They say Anium pulses faintly within every living being, a whisper that flows through veins like an invisible river. But for me, it was a tidal wave. I felt it roaring, raw and uncontainable, even as a child. Growing up, I assumed everyone had this relentless energy, this burning drive that demanded more of them every day. But soon, I learned otherwise—I was different.

My journey started in the capital, where Anium hung thick in the air, woven into every corner of the city. The market was my favorite place to be, and every visit felt like an adventure. The noise, the movement, the faces—it was all an endless fascination to me. I'd dash from stall to stall, my mother's voice trailing behind me, mingling with my sister Aria's laughter.

Suddenly, I slammed into something hard. Or rather, someone hard. I looked up, eyes wide, into the face of a woman whose armor glinted in the afternoon light.

"Watch it, kid!" she said with a smirk, brushing off the collision like it was nothing. Clink! Her armor made a light metallic sound as she tapped it. "Run around without looking, and you'll be tasting the ground in no time."

I stammered an apology, feeling my cheeks heat up, but her face softened. Her name was Sarah, and she was no ordinary soldier—she was a knight in the One World Government Army. She quickly became a friend, a guide. Her stories of battles and bravery lit a fire in me, making me want to be just like her, to wield my Anium as fearlessly as she wielded her blade.

One day, Sarah looked at me after one of her stories, her gaze serious. "You have that spark, Eric. But you have to learn to control it. Don't let it control you."

"When can you train me?" I asked eagerly.

She laughed, ruffling my hair. "In time, little warrior. When you're ready."

But the path I wanted wasn't what my mother wanted for me. "No, Eric. That life is dangerous," she'd say, her voice tight, her eyes filled with worry. Even Aria would join in, saying, "Come on, Eric, do you really want to run off and risk everything?"

Despite their pleas, I could feel the Anium inside me bubbling like a restless tide.

And then, the day came that would change everything.

It was as if the city itself trembled underfoot. Rumors of the Diablo Forces—a terror spoken of only in whispers—had reached the capital. The Diablo 1 Force, they called it, a legendary storm of darkness and fury that tore through all in its path. The ground shook, BOOM! buildings crumbled, and screams filled the air.

In an instant, the market turned into chaos. People ran, their faces twisted with fear, and I felt my Anium flare, urging me to fight, to defend. But I was still a child. My mother gripped my shoulders, her voice shaky as she urged me to stay close. "Eric, you must stay with me. Please."

I strained against her hold, searching for Sarah's face in the crowd. And then I saw her.

She stood in the middle of the chaos, her armor gleaming like a beacon. Her voice rang out, calm and strong. "Get to safety!" she ordered, directing people away from danger. Her blade was a blur of motion, her strength an anchor in the madness. "Eric!" She caught sight of me and shouted. "Stay back! This isn't a fight for you!"

But I couldn't look away. The Anium in me raged, demanding release, filling my head with a sharp hum. I watched helplessly as warriors fell one by one, their bodies littering the streets, until Sarah was alone, surrounded.

"Sarah, no!" I screamed, straining against my mother's grip.

Her eyes met mine one last time, fierce and unafraid. "Remember, Eric," she called, her voice carrying over the noise. "Remember the stories. Fight for the ones who can't fight."

And then, with one final, defiant strike, she was taken down. Gone.

The city was left in ruin, and a piece of me was lost with it. Days turned into blurred memories, each one heavy with the silence that filled our home. My father, a knight himself, returned not as a hero, but as a man discarded by the One World Government Army. They had cast him aside like he was nothing, and that betrayal festered inside him, transforming into bitterness.

Our home became a shadowed place, a prison filled with anger and pain. My father's rage would flare at the smallest provocation, his words turning to fists, and each bruise became a lesson in helplessness. But it only fed the fire inside me. Every blow, every harsh word, reminded me of how weak I was, and how much I needed to grow stronger.

Years passed, and every memory of that day drove me to one goal to become powerful enough to protect those I loved. The Anium within me, that force I could barely contain as a child, would be honed into a weapon, a shield. For the people I lost, for those who suffered, I would rise.

One day, I will face the Diablo Force. One day, I will make them pay.

In the silence of the night, I sit alone, staring into the darkness. The memories, the pain, the anger—they swirl around me, filling the quiet with a deafening roar. And somewhere in that darkness, I feel a presence, like a distant echo of Sarah's voice.

"Remember, Eric," she whispers in my mind, her words lingering. "Fight for those who can't fight."

And as the Anium pulses within me, fierce and unyielding, I know that my journey has only just begun.