Akirax - "Oh, what a pity, Devorath."

Devorath coughed up blood, each crimson drop a stark contrast to the twilight around them. His once-imposing figure, now crumpled and weakened, struggled to remain upright. The air was thick with the stench of betrayal, and the silhouettes of his former allies circled him like vultures.

Akirax - "Who would have thought... the great Voidbringer, devourer of all, would suffer such a pitiful end?" His eyes gleamed with victory, his voice sharp, cutting like a blade.

Devorath - "Who would have thought that I would fall... into the hands of my own allies? Especially you, Akirax." He spat the name like venom, the pain of betrayal etching lines of sorrow across his face. "You... the one I trusted most."

Akirax said nothing, his face a cold mask as the rest of their once-loyal allies chanted the incantations for the god-killing magic. Light and shadow danced in an intricate weave around Devorath as the spell ignited, tearing his form apart with searing intensity.

And then... silence.

A moment of absolute stillness before a low, rumbling laugh erupted from the dying god.

Devorath - "Is this... all you have?"

The wounds that should have ended him closed, the gaping holes sealing as if they had never existed. His laughter grew, mocking and hollow, echoing off the desolate landscape. Shock flashed across the faces of his enemies, their god-killing spell powerless against the being who stood before them.

With a gesture, he summoned the darkness—the essence of gluttony itself—consuming his betrayers as their screams filled the air. Limbs tore apart, swallowed by an endless void as they vanished one by one. He watched, bored and detached, the hollow sorrow of a lonely god overwhelming any satisfaction. When the last screams died away, Devorath's gaze drifted to the void where they once stood, empty and cold.

He was alone—again.

Devorath - "All things... come to an end." His voice, barely above a whisper, carried the weight of eternity. With a weary sigh, he raised his hand, willing the darkness to consume even him, to end the endless cycle of power and loneliness.

And then... darkness.

--

Kenzou woke up, gasping. His heart raced, and his hand instinctively reached for his chest, feeling the rapid thud beneath his palm. The room was dim, the pale morning light barely filtering through the blinds. The remnants of the dream—the vivid scenes of death, betrayal, and loneliness—still clung to his consciousness.

Kaname - "Kenzou, wake up!" A gentle voice, sweet and warm, broke the suffocating silence of the dream. He blinked, disoriented, and looked up to see Kaname, her concerned face inches from his own.

Kenzou - "Huh? Yeah... I'm awake." He forced a smile, hiding the unease gnawing at the edges of his mind. Kaname was a petite girl, her eyes wide with worry as she lightly swatted his shoulder.

Kaname - "You were dozing off again. We're in class, you know?"

Kenzou nodded, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. Beside him,Ryogi, his best friend since childhood, gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

Ryogi - "Man, you okay? You've been spacing out a lot lately." His tone was light, but there was an underlying concern.

Kenzou - "Yeah... Just tired, I guess."

As the teacher droned on, a strange unease settled over Kenzou. He tried to focus, but everything felt... off. Then came the instruction.

Teacher - "Alright, everyone, I want you to form groups of five for the upcoming project."

The number echoed in Kenzou's mind—five, five, five—until it seemed to drown out everything else. A cold shiver ran down his spine, the number thrumming like an ominous pulse.

Akira, a classmate with a sharp gaze and confident demeanor, called his name. "Kenzou! You're in our group, right?" She motioned him over, and he joined the group, their voices fading into background noise. As they discussed the project, he glanced out the window, the sunlight casting strange shadows across the classroom floor.

Outside, the cheerleading team practiced. As they moved into a formation, they created a perfect figure-eight. His chest tightened—it was his mother's birthday tomorrow. The number eight seemed to glow in his mind, a reminder of better times.

---

The bell rang, ending the day. Kenzou's thoughts drifted as he made his way to a nearby bakery. He picked out a small cake for his mother, a simple tradition they'd kept up for years. As he paid, memories of her warm smile and laughter filled his mind—the only light in his otherwise tumultuous life.

With the cake safely in hand, he walked home, but was suddenly jolted as a man—towering over seven feet—bumped into him. Kenzou almost dropped the cake.

Kenzou - "Watch where you're goi—"

He stopped. The man's face was shrouded in shadow, his presence unsettling. Kenzou felt a chill, his voice dying in his throat. "Sorry..." he muttered, and the man continued on, his form vanishing into the crowd.

Shaking off the unease, Kenzou hurried home. He opened the front door, the familiar warmth of home greeting him. His dog, Pochi, barked excitedly, and he paused to greet his pet dog before heading to the kitchen.

As he pushed open the kitchen door, the cake slid from his grasp, hitting the floor with a muffled thud. His mother's body lay twisted, contorted into the shape of a perfect 'O'. The room seemed to tilt as his mind struggled to process the horror. His heart shattered, and he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.

Kenzou - "Mom... no... please... wake up..." His voice was broken, choked with grief. The room echoed with his desperate cries, the sound of Pochi's barking growing frantic.

Suddenly, the barking stopped. Kenzou froze, fear clawing at his insides. "Pochi?" He turned, only to see the same towering figure—the shadowy man—grinning down at him, his smile a sickening curve of malice. Kenzou's mind went blank, replaced by a desperate fury. He grabbed a kitchen knife, lunging at the intruder, but he vanished.

In a panic, Kenzou ran to the porch, where Pochi's lifeless body lay, his head twisted unnaturally. Kenzou's screams pierced the evening air as he crumbled to the ground.

Kenzou - "Why... Why has this happened to me?" Anger and despair merged into a whirlwind of emotion, and he heard a voice—a familiar, haunting echo—whispering in his mind.

Devorath's Voice - "I am the Voidbringer, devourer of all."

Suddenly, the world around him flickered, and Kenzou was thrust back into the dreamscape. The voice, cold and detached, continued.

Devorath's Voice - "Tell me the password... and you will get another chance to save who you love."

Kenzou - "Password? What password?!" His mind raced, fragments of memory and panic blending together.

Devorath's Voice - "Time is running out. Ten... nine..."

The classroom—the cheerleading formation—the number five... He grasped for the fragments as time ticked down.

"Five... eight..." His mother's body—the shape of an 'O'—it had to be...

Kenzou - "Zero!"

He shouted the numbers—580—just as the last second slipped away. For a moment, nothing happened, and he felt the weight of hopelessness crush him. Then, the world froze, and he heard Kaname's voice, distant and urgent.

Kaname - "Kenzou! Wake up!"

His eyes snapped open, his heart hammering in his chest. He was back in the classroom, the world around him achingly real. But the terror, the grief... it was all still there, lurking just beneath the surface.

Kenzou knew—he was back.

---

He awoke in class, trembling, but this time, he knew. He remembered everything. His mother's death, the tall man, the voice of Devorath— it had all been real. Without thinking, he jumped to his feet, but Ryogi grabbed his arm.

"Whoa, what's going on?" Ryogi's face was a mask of confusion.

Kaname- "Are you alright? You look pale."

Kenzou paused, catching his breath. "I... I'm fine. Just remembered something important." He forced a smile and sat back down, his mind racing. There was still time—his mother was alive. She always came back from grocery shopping at 3:00 p.m. He had a chance to stop it, to save her.

He spent the next period struggling to focus, his two friends watching him with concern. When the second-to-last subject began, Kenzou couldn't wait any longer. He raised his hand. "I need to go to the bathroom," he said. The teacher gave a distracted nod, and as soon as he was in the hall, he ran.

The world blurred around him as he sprinted toward home. "Please, Mom, don't be there," he muttered to himself. As he burst through the front door and rushed into the kitchen, his worst fear became a reality—the tall figure stood there, his hand around his mother's throat.

"No!" Kenzou screamed, charging the man with all his strength, but his attack barely budged the stranger. The man turned, smiling coldly, and hurled his mother aside like a ragdoll.

The next moments were a blur of pain and fury as Kenzou was battered, slammed into walls, and left coughing blood. He staggered to his feet, determined to protect his mother at any cost. The stranger moved faster than he could react, a scythe materializing in his hand, swinging down with deadly precision.

"No!" His mother's desperate cry echoed as she leaped in front of the blow, arms outstretched. The scythe flashed, and Kenzou watched in horror as her arms were severed, blood spraying across the room. A roar of rage and agony erupted from within him, and then everything went white.

I am Devorath.

The words echoed in his mind, and he felt a surge of power unlike anything before. His eyes shifted, hair turning a stark white, and in an instant, he was standing before the man, his fist smashing into the stranger's chest and sending him flying. Broken glass scattered across the floor, and Kenzou caught a glimpse of his new reflection—no longer the ordinary student but something far more.

But he didn't care. Not now. He had to end this.

The man rose, fury in his eyes, charging with his scythe alight in purple flames. Kenzou caught the blade effortlessly, a grim smile spreading across his face. "This ends now," he said, his voice cold and inhuman. Then he uttered a single word: "Devour."

Darkness surged from his outstretched hand, consuming the man, and as the last of him vanished, Kenzou turned to his mother. She was alive, but barely. A voice in his head instructed him to use his blood, and, desperate, he let a single drop fall onto her wounds. Miraculously, they began to heal. He then collapsed, exhausted and overwhelmed.

Kenzou's eyes slowly fluttered open, the weight of exhaustion pulling him down. His head throbbed, and every inch of his body ached. He blinked, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. This wasn't his room. The walls were lined with paper scrolls, dimly lit lanterns cast a warm glow, and the scent of incense lingered in the air. He pushed himself up, heart racing.

Kenzou: "Where... am I?" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

He looked around, noticing the unfamiliar tatami floor beneath him. A soft rustle caught his attention. A silhouette moved in the dim light, a woman kneeling beside him. She was carefully tending to his wounds, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth.

Kenzou: "Who...?"

The woman looked up, and he recognized her face.

Akira: "Kenzou, it's okay. You're safe."* Her tone was calm, reassuring.

Kenzou: "Akira? What... what's going on? Why am I here? What happened to my mom?" Panic edged his voice as he tried to sit up, but Akira gently pushed him back down.

Akira: "Your mother is safe. She's resting. You saved her."

Relief washed over him, but confusion still clouded his mind. He looked down at himself, noticing his body felt... different. He was taller, his muscles firmer. He felt stronger, and a strange sensation pulsed beneath his skin, a lingering echo of the power he had wielded.

Kenzou: "What happened to me? I don't look the same... I feel different."

Akira paused, a serious expression crossing her face.

Akira: "There's a lot you need to understand, Kenzou. What happened at your house... it wasn't an accident. And the power you used—"

Kenzou: "Power? You mean when I fought that man... when I saved my mom?"

Akira: "Yes. It's a power you inherited, but it's not just any power. It's the mark of Devorath, a force that has existed for centuries." She hesitated, her eyes studying him carefully.

Kenzou: "What do you mean? And why am I here?"

Akira took a deep breath, her eyes determined.

Akira: "My family and I belong to a group—an order, if you will—that has been protecting this world from monsters and entities that come from beyond. We've been doing this for generations. And Kenzou... it seems that you're connected to it now."

Kenzou's mind spun. He wanted to protest, to say it was all a mistake, but he couldn't forget the feeling of power coursing through him, the way he had torn through that creature with his bare hands.

Kenzou: "So... what attacked my mom? Why did it come after us?"*

Akira: "We don't know for sure, but it wasn't a coincidence."* She looked away, her brow furrowed in thought. "There are beings from another realm who seek out power—power like yours. My guess is that the man who attacked your home was one of them."

Kenzou's fists tightened, anger bubbling up inside him. "So... it was after me?"

Akira: "Maybe. Or maybe it was after the power you hold, the power of Devorath." She paused. "Devorath was once a great warrior, but his power comes at a cost. It's a force that can either save or destroy, depending on how it's used. My family has been fighting to contain that kind of power and to keep it from falling into the wrong hands."

Kenzou: "So... you knew about this? About me?"

Akira: "Not about you specifically, but when I saw what you did... I knew we had to bring you here. You're not like any other person we've met. Your power is... unique."

He sat silently for a moment, processing everything. The weight of responsibility felt heavy on his shoulders, but another thought gnawed at him.

Kenzou: "My mom. Is she really okay? Where is she?"

Akira: "She's resting in another room. We managed to stabilize her wounds, thanks to... your blood."

His eyes widened, remembering how he had cut his finger and watched her injuries heal before his eyes. It all felt like a dream.

Kenzou: "My blood... healed her?"

Akira: "Yes. It's part of the power you now possess. But it's also dangerous, Kenzou. That's why you need guidance." She stood up, extending her hand to him.

Akira: "Come with me. There's so much more you need to see—and so much to learn."

---

As they walked down the wooden corridors of Akira's home, Kenzou noticed symbols etched into the walls, protective talismans and ancient scrolls that seemed to pulse with a quiet energy.

Kenzou: "Is this... your family's temple?"

Akira: "Yes. It's a sanctuary. A place that's protected from the creatures that you encountered. We use this space to train, to learn, and to keep the darkness at bay."

She led him to a large room where his mother lay, asleep on a bed of woven mats. Her face was pale but peaceful, her breathing steady. He knelt beside her, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Kenzou: "I'm sorry, Mom. I promise... I'll protect you."

He stood, glancing at a mirror in the corner. His reflection startled him—he looked stronger, his eyes more intense, but his black hair had returned to its natural color. He reached out and touched the glass, a quiet determination settling in his heart.

Kenzou: "I need to understand what's happening to me... and why."

Akira: "Then we start with training. You need to know what your power is capable of—and how to control it. If you don't, it could consume you."

---

Kenzou followed Akira to a hidden room deep within the temple. It was filled with ancient tomes, weapons, and artifacts—each carrying a story of its own. He picked up a book, its pages yellowed with age, the title faded but still visible: "The Legend of Devorath."

Akira: "If you want to protect your mother... if you want to survive... you have to know what you're up against. This isn't just about you anymore, Kenzou."

Kenzou: "I know." He clenched his fist, the memory of his battle with the tall man still fresh in his mind. "I'm not afraid. I'll do whatever it takes."

He opened the book, feeling the weight of his new reality settle over him. He didn't fully understand the power within him, but he was determined to master it.

The first step? Understanding Devorath's past... and preparing for the battles yet to come.