The sky had been red for three days.
Not the gentle red of a fading sunset. Not the fiery red of a distant blaze. This was something else entirely—thick, unmoving, almost alive. It stretched across the heavens like a wound that refused to close, casting a strange glow over the village of Ikaru.
People whispered.
They always whispered when something felt wrong.
Doors shut earlier than usual. Fires were lit sooner. Children were called indoors before the wind picked up. Even the animals—especially the animals—had grown restless.
But Mandara stood at the eastern cliff.
He always did.
The wind surged violently around him, pulling at his clothes, his hair—but never quite touching him. It curved, twisted, bent its path like it was avoiding him.
Mandara stared into the horizon.
"I've seen this before…" he muttered.
But he hadn't.
At least… he didn't remember.
That was the problem.
He didn't remember anything before this village.
No childhood.
No parents.
No past.
Only fragments—like broken glass scattered in his mind.
A throne.
Fire.
A voice calling his name… not Mandara.
"Mandara!"
He didn't turn immediately. He already knew who it was.
Elder Kaito approached slowly, leaning on his wooden staff. Age had bent his body, but his eyes remained sharp—too sharp.
"You shouldn't be here," the elder said.
Mandara sighed. "You always say that."
"And you never listen."
Mandara finally turned, his expression calm but distant.
"Then tell me why," he said.
Kaito hesitated.
That alone was enough.
Mandara stepped closer. "Why is this place forbidden? Why does it feel like something is pulling me here?"
The elder's grip tightened on his staff.
"Some places are not meant to be remembered," he said quietly.
Mandara frowned. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
Silence stretched between them.
The wind grew louder.
Then—
A low rumble echoed beneath their feet.
Not thunder.
Something deeper.
Mandara's chest suddenly burned.
He gasped, clutching himself as pain surged through him. The symbol etched into his skin began to glow faintly, lines of light pulsing outward like veins.
Kaito's eyes widened.
"No… it's starting already…"
Mandara dropped to one knee.
"What… is this?!"
The rumble grew louder.
And then—
A voice.
Not from the sky.
Not from the ground.
From inside him.
> "You were not meant to forget."
Mandara froze.
His breath caught.
"Who… said that?"
Kaito stepped back.
Because he heard nothing.
But Mandara—
Mandara heard everything.
Images exploded into his mind.
A battlefield drenched in fire.
Mountains collapsing.
Four figures of immense power standing against something unseen.
And then—
Darkness swallowing everything.
Mandara screamed.
And the sky answered.
Lightning split the heavens.
The storm had begun.
Morning came, but the sky never changed.
Still red. Still heavy.
Still wrong.
The village of Ikaru had fallen into a quiet panic. People moved quickly, spoke less, and avoided looking at Mandara altogether.
He noticed.
He always noticed.
Mandara sat outside his hut, his fingers tracing the symbol on his chest.
It wasn't just a mark.
It pulsed.
Faintly… but steadily.
As if something beneath his skin was breathing.
"You're doing it again."
Mandara looked up.
Sira stood a few steps away, arms folded, her expression caught between concern and curiosity.
"Doing what?" he asked.
"Thinking too hard."
Mandara smirked faintly. "Didn't know that was a crime."
"Here? It might be."
She walked over and sat beside him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then she glanced at his chest.
"It's glowing again," she said quietly.
Mandara didn't respond.
"Does it hurt?"
"…Sometimes."
Sira hesitated. "People are talking."
"I know."
"They think you're… connected to this."
Mandara exhaled slowly.
"They're right."
Sira blinked. "What?"
"I don't know how," he said, "but this… whatever is happening… it's tied to me."
Before she could respond—
A deafening explosion shattered the village gate.
Both of them jumped to their feet.
Smoke rose into the red sky.
Screams followed.
Mandara's eyes hardened.
"They're here."
"Who?" Sira asked, panicking.
But Mandara already knew.
He didn't know how.
But he knew.
Figures emerged from the smoke.
Dark armor. Slow steps. No fear.
And on each of their chests—
The same symbol.
Mandara's symbol.
His chest burned brighter.
This wasn't coincidence.
This was a message.
And it was meant for him.
Chaos consumed Ikaru.
Villagers ran in every direction—some trying to fight, others simply trying to survive.
But the attackers moved with unnatural calm.
They weren't raiding.
They were hunting.
Mandara stepped forward.
"Stop!" he shouted.
The figures paused.
One of them stepped ahead of the rest.
Taller. Heavier presence. Authority in every movement.
"You've grown," the man said.
Mandara clenched his fists. "Do I know you?"
The man tilted his head slightly.
"No," he said. "But you used to know yourself."
Before Mandara could react—
The man moved.
Faster than sight.
A hand gripped Mandara's throat and lifted him off the ground.
"You don't remember being a god's prison?" he whispered.
Mandara's vision blurred.
"What… are you talking about…?"
The man leaned closer.
"The vessel has awakened."
Something snapped.
Not outside.
Inside.
The world slowed.
Sound faded.
Mandara's eyes widened as energy surged through him—wild, uncontrollable, furious.
His chest exploded with light.
A shockwave tore through the air.
The ground cracked.
Buildings shattered.
And then—
Silence.
Mandara collapsed to the ground, gasping.
He looked up.
The attackers—
Gone.
No bodies.
No blood.
Just… gone.
Mandara stared at his hands.
"What did I do…?"
No one answered.
Because no one understood.
Not even him.
---
CHAPTER 4: THE TRUTH OF THE FIFTH
The village burned.
Not from fire—but from fear.
Mandara stood before Elder Kaito, his patience gone.
"No more lies," he said. "Tell me everything."
The elder closed his eyes.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"It's time," he whispered.
The remaining villagers gathered.
They deserved the truth too.
"Long ago," Kaito began, "before kingdoms, before history… there were four gods."
Mandara listened carefully.
"They maintained balance. Order. Life."
He paused.
"But then… something else appeared."
Mandara's chest tightened.
"A fifth."
The air grew heavy.
"It wasn't born," Kaito continued. "It wasn't created. It simply was."
"Power without limit."
"Existence without purpose."
"Chaos without end."
Mandara's breathing slowed.
Because deep down—
He already knew.
"It nearly destroyed everything," Kaito said.
"So the four gods made a choice."
Mandara whispered, "They sealed it…"
Kaito nodded.
"Inside a human vessel."
Silence fell.
Mandara stepped back.
"No…"
Kaito looked directly at him.
"You are that vessel."
The words hit harder than any attack.
Mandara shook his head.
"That's not possible."
"It is," Kaito said. "And the seal is breaking."
Mandara looked down.
The symbol was no longer just glowing.
It was spreading.