Koku froze.
The man who had chased him earlier stood motionless over a pool of blood. The metallic scent of it thickened the air, suffocating, heavy. Shadows clung to the corners of the small, run-down house, where a few others lurked, their presence a silent, looming force that made the space feel smaller than it was.
For a moment, Koku instinctively stepped back—his body wanted to flee, to escape whatever nightmare had unfolded before him. But his mind refused to listen.
His mother was here.
A sickening chill crept up his spine, his small hands curling into trembling fists. He swallowed, trying to push back the overwhelming nausea rising in his gut. His voice, fragile and weak, barely made it past his lips.
"W-where's my mother?"
The question felt like it shattered something in the air.
The man's gaze flicked toward him, but he said nothing. There was no emotion in his face—just stillness, as if he had already accepted whatever horror had taken place in this room. But the silence didn't last.
A soft, mocking laugh echoed from the darkness, slithering through the air like a snake.
"That bitch begged us to let you go, kid."
The words pierced through him, sharp, cruel, twisting deep into his chest.
Silence stretched in the room, long and suffocating. The only sound was the faint dripping of blood pooling across the wooden floor.
A thin ray of sunlight slipped through the cracks in the walls, its golden touch creeping toward the center of the room. It reached toward the men, the blood, and finally—
Koku's breath hitched.
His eyes darted wildly between the man's face, now clearly visible in the dim light, and the pool of blood that seemed too large, too dark. His small fingers curled, nails biting into his palms.
"Mom?"
His voice was small, uncertain, like a whisper lost in the wind.
"Mother?"
The word felt foreign on his tongue.
No answer.
Just the overwhelming stillness of the room, the shadows clinging to the walls, the way the sunlight almost seemed afraid to touch the lifeless body sprawled in the center of it all.
Koku was only five. He didn't fully understand death. But he had seen it.
The memory clawed at his mind—a rabbit he had caught the day before, its soft fur still warm in his hands before it went still, unmoving, forever silent. He had stared at it then, waiting, expecting something, anything. But nothing happened. It never moved again.
And now—
His mother wasn't moving either.
The realization settled into his bones, cold, numbing. His breathing turned shallow, his small chest rising and falling too quickly, too erratically.
The room blurred as his vision swam, his body trembling from something deeper than fear.
"Mo-m…"
He struggled to speak. His throat felt tight, his voice strangled, like something was pressing down on him, forcing the air from his lungs.
His body trembled violently.
A sharp, unfamiliar pain squeezed his chest, and before he realized it, he was gasping for air. The weight of realization crashed down on him, more suffocating than the thick, coppery scent of blood filling the room.
"Just kill him already," one of the men spat, voice laced with irritation.
No hesitation. No remorse.
"He's just a kid," another grumbled.
"No knights, no magic knights, no damn mages will care enough to investigate. Just get it over with."
A shadow moved—a man approaching, a dagger glinting in his grip.
"Tch. I'll enjoy this, kid," he sneered.
Koku barely heard him.
The world felt distant, as if his mind had separated from his body.
Then—something shifted.
The air around them changed. It was subtle at first, like a whisper in the wind, but it carried weight—an unseen pressure that pressed against the room like an impending horror.
The man holding the dagger hesitated.
Then he stiffened.
His eyes locked onto Koku, his sneer faltering.
Something about the boy had changed.
His expression was hollow. Empty. His violet eyes, wide and unblinking, had lost their light—like the life had already left him, like he was no longer human.
The man swallowed, grip tightening around his weapon. "He looks dead already," he muttered, his voice betraying a trace of unease.
Koku heard him.
He heard everything. The ragged breaths of the men around him, the rustling of fabric, the sound of blood dripping onto the wooden floor.
But his mind was elsewhere.
His body felt distant, unresponsive, like it was no longer his own.
Then—
Everything around him disappeared.
A dark, endless void stretched before him.
It was cold.
So, so cold.
He curled into himself, wrapping his arms around his legs, his small frame trembling uncontrollably.
Sobs wracked his body, his breath coming in shallow, broken gasps.
He was alone.
Completely, utterly alone.
But—
Something was watching him.
A presence. Unseen, unknowable, but there.
"Everyone's always hated me," he whispered into the void.
His voice sounded small, fragile, breaking under the weight of emotions too heavy for a child to bear.
"Everyone… except my mom."
His mind flickered to the kind teenager at the shop, the one who had smiled at him once, given him a piece of bread. But the memory barely lingered before slipping away, fading into nothingness.
None of it mattered now.
Nothing mattered.
He buried his face against his knees, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block everything out.
Time lost meaning.
Then—
A soft squeak.
Koku lifted his head, eyes unfocused.
Two rabbits stood before him.
They were the same ones he had killed. Blood still clung to their fur, yet they were alive. One white with dark, knowing eyes. The other black with brown eyes.
They stared at him, ears raised, unblinking.
"Do you hate me?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
No response.
The white rabbit hopped forward, its tiny paws making no sound against the empty void.
The black one hesitated, but after a moment, it followed.
They stopped before him, gazing up with quiet understanding.
Koku's fingers twitched.
His heart pounded.
A strange warmth spread from his left hand.
Then—he felt it.
Something vast. Something endless.
A presence, raw and incomprehensible, flooding through him, seeping into every fiber of his being.
It had no form. No limits. No end.
Power.
His body tensed as it surged through him, igniting something deep within his soul.
His eyes flared—brilliant, unnatural purple.
For a brief moment, he saw himself—small, frail, his light gray hair falling over wide, glowing violet eyes.
Then—warmth.
A liquid sensation crawled up his arms, seeping through his fingertips, wrapping around him like unseen tendrils.
The rabbits began to glow.
Their forms flickered, fading, yet their gaze never wavered.
As they vanished, something in him shattered.
And something new took its place.
A power unlike anything he had ever known.
His body felt different—sharper, stronger, faster.
Then—
Reality snapped back.
The moment his vision refocused, he saw it.
His hands.
Trembling.
Dripping.
Covered in blood.
And in them—two massive, dark purple roots, extending outward like blades of raw, seething energy.
On the other end—
A lifeless body.
Suspended. Impaled.
Blood pooled beneath it, soaking into the floorboards.
Koku's breath hitched.
His entire body was drenched in red.
And in the silence that followed—
A single, trembling voice whispered:
"Demon."
The word demon barely registered in Koku's mind. His breath was unsteady, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight before him.
The man—no, the corpse—hung limply in the air, impaled on the dark, writhing roots of energy magic or whatever it was that extended from Koku's hands. The blood dripped in slow, agonizing drops, each one hitting the floor with a sound far too loud in the suffocating silence.
The remaining men were frozen. Terror distorted their faces, their bodies rigid, unable to move, unable to breathe.
One of them swallowed thickly, his entire frame shaking. "H-he… he killed Ruzan… with magic? But he's just a kid. He had no magic! This—this ain't possible!"
Another took a step back, his voice hoarse, cracking under fear. "It's not magic—it's something else. Look at those things coming out of him. Look at his eyes!"
Koku remained still, his glowing violet eyes wide, blank, unseeing. His mind felt distant, his body heavy, foreign. His hands, slick with warm blood, trembled violently.
He could feel it.
The power.
It still surged through him, pulsing like a second heartbeat, an unfamiliar and terrifying presence that coiled around his soul.
He tried to breathe, tried to steady himself, but the overwhelming weight of what had just happened pressed down on him, suffocating.
His mother was still there.
Unmoving.
Cold.
Gone.
His eyes flickered toward her lifeless form, and in that moment, something inside him snapped.
A sharp gasp tore from his throat as a suffocating rage surged up from the depths of his soul. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before—something raw, primal, all-consuming. It drowned out every thought, every emotion, replacing them with one singular, unbearable truth.
They took her from him.
She was his world.
And they took her.
The ground trembled.
The air itself shifted, growing heavier, more oppressive. The wooden walls of the house creaked under the unseen force, groaning as if the entire structure would collapse beneath the weight of his fury.
Then—
A scream.
A monstrous, hate-filled scream erupted from Koku's throat, shaking the very air.
The remaining men dropped to their knees, clutching their heads, their ears ringing as a deafening shockwave exploded outward. Every soul within a third of a mile lost their hearing in an instant.
The dark, thick aura spilled from Koku's body, growing, twisting, expanding.
It consumed him entirely.
A shape emerged—a monstrous figure of pure, unrelenting malice.
Towering. Writhing. Unholy.
The shadows twisted, forming something beyond human, beyond comprehension. The men could no longer move.
Their bodies refused to obey them, paralyzed by a fear far too great for mortal minds to withstand.
One of them tried to speak, but the words never left his mouth. His lips trembled, his face contorted in terror as he realized—
This was not a child.
This was something else entirely.
Far away, in another town, a blonde woman suddenly shivered. She turned her gaze toward the sky, brows furrowing.
"Something terrifying has awakened," she whispered.
Even further away, in a land where no mortal tread, a man who called the heavens his home closed his eyes.
"The atrocities that will ensnare the heavens… have already begun."
And in the depths of hell, buried beneath layers of darkness and torment, a demon grinned.
"Oh… how interesting," he murmured, the corners of his lips curling upward. "The skies will soon run red with blood. Earth, heaven, and hell will collide… soon."
Back at the source—
Koku moved.
The towering, monstrous form that had taken shape around him blurred forward.
Faster than the human eye could follow.
An executioner in the dark.
A sickening crack. The man who had slain his mother was dead before he could even blink.
The others never stood a chance.
Limbs tore.
Flesh ripped.
Blood painted the walls, the floors, the very air itself.
The house became a tomb.
Then—just as quickly as it came—the power vanished.
Koku's body collapsed, his small frame hitting the ground hard, his chest heaving, lungs burning for air. His hands clutched at his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tattered shirt, his body trembling violently. His vision swam, blurred, darkened. But he forced himself to move.
Mother.
He stumbled toward her, his weak, shaking arms dragging his body forward. His legs buckled beneath him, he fell.
Crawling now, his fingers stretched forward, desperate, reaching.
His hand brushed hers.
Cold.
Unmoving.
"Mother…"
The world turned black, minutes Later…
The door burst open not too soon after.
Magic knights stormed in, their weapons drawn, their eyes widening at the massacre before them.
A knight commander stepped forward, his sharp gaze scanning the room, his expression unreadable. His visiting friend, a grand magus, took in the destruction before them, eyes dark with quiet calculation.
"Whatever was here… it's gone now," the magus muttered, his voice grim.
The commander frowned. "Gone?"
"In such a short time," the magus confirmed. His fingers twitched, as if recalling the suffocating presence that had lingered in the air moments before they arrived.
"We're lucky we didn't face it," he admitted. "We would have most certainly died. It felt that way, at least." A sharp voice cut through the tension.
"The kid's alive!"
The magus rushed over, hands already glowing with golden healing magic. His eyes narrowed as he worked, his magic scanning the boy's body for injuries, for traces of… whatever had just happened here.
"A child…" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
His hands hovered over Koku's small frame, his magic flowing into the boy's body. But the more he searched, the deeper his frown became.
"Without magic…?"
The commander didn't answer. He only watched.
"Take him to headquarters," he finally ordered. "We need answers."
Days Later…
Koku's eyes fluttered open. The world swam into focus, blurry, unfocused. His body felt heavy, sore, as if he had been asleep for a long time.
The unfamiliar ceiling above him was too clean, too polished. He was in a different place now. Not the bloodstained house.
Not home.
A voice—soft, feminine—echoed nearby.
"—will he wake up soon?"
A quiet sigh. "His condition is stable. He should regain consciousness within the day."
Koku's fingers twitched. He swallowed, his dry throat aching.
Then—
A presence.
Someone was close.
Slowly, Koku turned his head, his vision adjusting. A girl stood near him, wide-eyed, her lips parting in shock.
The moment their gazes met, she turned, voice urgent—
"He's awake!"