The Nephom known as 001 stumbled through the dense woods of Mount Takao, his ragged breaths coming in sharp, desperate gulps. His heart pounded against his ribs as he gripped a nearby tree trunk for support, his hands trembling with exhaustion and fear. The scent of pine and damp earth filled his senses as he struggled to calm himself.
Whew, that was close... he thought, sweat pouring down his face like a river. His eyes darted through the forest in sheer panic as his thoughts swam with worst-case scenarios. "If I was caught by that mad scientist... Who knows what he would've done to me if he had..."
He shivered at the thought, his breathing ragged as he tried to steady himself. His pulse was like a hammer striking his chest with every beat. His mind flickered back to his earlier actions—If he found out I fiddled in his plans with that kid...
Before he could gather his thoughts further, a voice broke through the air.
"Hey."
The sound was casual, nonchalant, but sharp enough to make 001's body jerk. His head snapped up, his eyes locking onto the source of the voice, and his breath hitched. Standing just in front of him, leaning against a large tree with his arms crossed in a lazy manner, was Lucien Graves. His appearance was calm, cool, and effortless—like he had all the time in the world to stand there as though he were taking an afternoon nap.
001 froze, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened in pure panic as he tried to process the sight in front of him. "When'd you get here? Were you here the whole time?!" His voice came out in a high-pitched, strained tone.
Lucien didn't move, didn't even blink, merely standing there with his usual cool, relaxed demeanor. He grinned faintly as if this was the most boring thing he'd seen all week.
"Yeah, pretty much. I got pretty bored of just watching you gasp for air, so..." Lucien's voice was smooth, dripping with an unnervingly casual indifference.
Before 001 could gather himself or take a step back, he suddenly tried to flee again. His legs, shaky with fear, carried him only a few steps before he collided hard into an unseen barrier. His body slammed into it with a force that sent him stumbling back, his hands grasping the air in confusion.
"What's this?!" 001 gasped, turning his head toward the force that stopped him. His hand came into contact with what felt like a wall—solid, unyielding, and invisible.
Lucien gave a small, amused chuckle as he pushed himself off the tree and began strolling toward 001 with slow, deliberate steps. His voice was low, steady, and firm as he spoke.
"It's already too late for that. Upon coming here, I set up a barrier around our vicinity. That means you can't escape, no matter how hard you try."
Lucien came to a stop a few feet away, his piercing gaze fixed on the terrified 001. His voice took on a sharp edge as he continued, "Now tell me, 001. I gave you very specific orders to not attack the student with white hair. I had told you his was Seijuro Matsuda. But you went ahead and did the opposite. You were supposed to help him pass this exam, but It looked like you were going to kill him, 001. Now Ryu Tsukiyama and the higher-ups are starting to grow suspicious."
The pressure in the air felt unbearable. 001's body felt as though it would collapse under the weight of Lucien's words. His panic reached its peak. Before he could say anything, he dropped to his knees without thinking, bowing his head to the ground in submission.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry! I didn't mean to disrupt your plans! It's just the human's strength... I got a bit carried away!" He clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture, his voice cracking with desperation. "Please forgive me, Master!"
Lucien let out an exasperated sigh, stepping closer with a look of mild disdain on his face. His expression was cold, his gaze sharp, his voice disinterested but cutting.
"It seems you've forgotten something very important about yourself, 001," he said as his gaze bore into the trembling figure on the ground. "Who created you, 001? Who created this entire Artificial Kyukogai?"
He paused for effect, letting the words sink in before finishing with a cold, deliberate clarity.
"Me."
The words hit 001 like a physical blow. His heart sank. His breaths came even harder, his body trembling as he tried to process the weight of that truth.
Lucien Graves, a twenty-year-old prodigy from America, is infamously known throughout the Three Divine Academies as the "Mad Scientist." The nickname stems from his twisted brilliance and cold, calculating demeanor, paired with his uncanny ability to create inventions that often blur the line between genius and nightmare.
Despite being a student, Lucien holds the prestigious position of Leader of the Research and Development Division, a role that speaks volumes about his unmatched intellect and influence. His groundbreaking creations, some revolutionary and others deeply unsettling, have reshaped the boundaries of science and innovation, earning him both awe and fear among his peers.
Lucien's strength lies not only in his unparalleled talent but also in the inventions that defy logic, standing as milestones in the world's history. His cold, detached approach to his craft, coupled with an obsession for progress at any cost, makes him a generational talent. Much like Ryu Takahashi.
"Master Lucien, I understand!" 001's voice came out in frantic desperation as he stayed kneeling. "Please, give me another chance! I'll do better, I swear!"
Lucien clicked his tongue, his gaze unwavering as he stared at 001 with a mixture of pity and disgust. He took a step closer, his voice carrying the same cold detachment as always.
"A second chance?" Lucien asked, his voice slow, his tone taunting. "I don't think so, 001."
His words hit like a death knell.
"You were once great, but you're proof of how unreliable my older inventions can be. You disobey orders. I've already started building your replacement."
Before 001 could respond, his pleas grew louder, more desperate. "Please, spare my life, I swear I—"
Before the words could leave his lips, Lucien moved with swift, terrifying precision. A single flash of steel—a single swipe of his hand—and 001's body was split in two. Blood and mechanical components spilled onto the ground as his body crumbled into ash.
Lucien looked down at the remains for only a moment, his expression unchanged. His shoulders relaxed as he exhaled a long, tired sigh.
"Hm... this is so irritating, but meh, everything seems to be going according to schedule," he muttered, his voice low as he looked up toward the sky. His mind seemed to drift as his gaze focused on something far away.
"Things are falling right into place, isn't it, Seijuro Matsuda?" he whispered, his voice soft and contemplative as if speaking to himself.
The trees whispered above him, the wind rustling through their branches, but Lucien's thoughts were locked on that name—a name heavy with meaning. He couldn't help but smile faintly. His mysterious and unknown plan was moving, every piece fitting into place. Why did he order the Nephom, 001, to not interact with Seijuro Matsuda? What plans does he have for the boy?
....
The world of Shinkoku no Dō (神刻の道, Path of Divine Etchings) grants humans the ability to achieve unbelievable power. While ordinary humans could live mundane lives without awakening their Reitō (Divine Etching), they would always remain beneath those who had unlocked their potential. It wasn't by choice, it was forced upon society by the strong.
The Divine power, originally meant to protect and serve, had been twisted into a tool for power, control, and dominance.
In the sprawling slums of Tokyo, a city renowned for its corruption and high concentration of Reitōka (Divine Etching users), a nameless boy was born into the filth and shadows. He knew nothing of love or kindness—only hunger, fear, and an unrelenting struggle to survive. His parents, both drunkards, despised him. At the tender age of six, they abandoned him without a second thought. Alone, the boy scavenged for scraps, stealing what he could just to stave off starvation.
Each day was a battle in the unforgiving streets, where the strong preyed on the weak, and compassion was a luxury no one could afford.
But everything changed when he turned seven. On a fateful day, when the boy was close to the death, he awakened his Reitō. His newfound power made him faster, stronger, and more resourceful. For the first time, people noticed him—not as a helpless street rat, but as someone useful. He made 'friends,' though they were nothing more than criminals who sought to exploit his abilities.
The boy didn't care. For the first time, he had a sense of belonging, even if it was built on lies.
He took jobs for them—robbing stores, defeating Nephoms in underground gambling matches, betraying others like him for a chance at survival, and even killing for money. Day by day, he grew stronger, forcing himself to mature far earlier than any child should. His handlers praised him, calling him 'special,' but he was too young and desperate to realize they only valued him for his strength.
He clung to their words and the illusion of family. Deep down, though, he despised the world—a world where only the powerful thrived, and the weak were left to rot.
This illusion shattered one fateful night. During a job gone wrong, he and his gang were ambushed by a rival group. Cornered and outnumbered, the boy waited for his friends to save him. Instead, they abandoned him, using him as a distraction to cover their escape.
He barely survived, slipping away by the skin of his teeth. Alone once more, he realized two harsh truths: the weak are prey for the strong, so therefore he must become strong himself and secondly, trust is a luxury you cannot afford—not even with those closest to you.
From that day forward, the boy swore he would never return to the powerless state he once knew. He vowed to climb the ranks of this brutal, power-obsessed world by any means necessary to prove to the world that anyone can become strong.
That boy's name was Seijuro Matsuda.
...
Seijuro gasped for air as he bolted upright in bed. Sweat dripped from his brow, soaking the sheets wrapped around him. His chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm as his wide, panicked eyes darted around the unfamiliar room.
"Where... am I?" he muttered, his voice trembling. Then the realization hit him like a freight train. "Why am I not dead?!"
The room was modest in size, with plain walls and minimal decor. Beside his bed sat another empty cot, adding to his confusion. He glanced down, pulling the sheets off to check himself. His torso was bare, free of any injuries or scars from his last fight, though his pants were thankfully still intact.
Seijuro's breathing began to steady as he inspected his hands and face, finding no bruises or cuts. Memories of his last moments came rushing back—a flash of his battle with the Nephom, the overwhelming odds, and his inevitable defeat.
His voice cracked as he pieced it together. "Wait... I didn't have 1,000 points yet. I didn't beat the Nephom... doesn't that mean I failed the test?"
"Yea you kind of did fail the test."
The sudden voice made Seijuro whip his head toward its source. His eyes widened in shock as they landed on a figure sitting casually in a chair beside his bed.
Ryu Takahashi.
The strongest student in the Academy.
Ryu was effortlessly cool, his posture relaxed as he sipped from a steaming cup of coffee. His dark hair fell loosely around his sharp features, and his piercing amber eyes held a glint of amusement. Despite his casual demeanor, his mere presence radiated an intimidating aura of power.
"Yo," Ryu said, raising a hand in a lazy wave as if this was the most natural thing in the world.
"W-What the hell?!" Seijuro stammered, pointing a shaky finger at him. "Were you here this whole time?"
Ryu shrugged, his tone light. "Pretty much."