Volume 1: Demon realm.
A lone figure sat beneath a waterfall, the roaring cascade of water crashing down onto his shoulders with relentless force. The boy, clad in a plain black robe adorned with a family crest—a phoenix bird mid-flight—remained unmoving. His composed expression betrayed no discomfort, though his body endured the sheer weight of the water. This figure was Rytha, a boy on the cusp of adolescence, his features a mixture of determination and youthful innocence.
For a month, Rytha had subjected himself to this grueling ritual of endurance, ever since the day he met Saint Quiver. That meeting was etched vividly in his memory, a turning point in his life that had left an indelible mark.
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The encounter had been nothing short of extraordinary. Rytha had been on the brink of death, cornered by a monstrous wild boar in the treacherous forests of Ivay. Its tusks gleamed, ready to end his life. Just as the beast lunged, the earth beneath them trembled, and a thunderous crash split the air.
Saint Quiver had arrived.
The wild boar's massive frame was crushed in an instant, its life snuffed out as if it had been nothing more than a nuisance. Rytha, frozen in shock, watched as the saint brushed a speck of dust off the jade-black shoulder plate of his armor. His movements were deliberate and elegant, exuding a calm yet overwhelming power.
As Saint Quiver turned to face him, Rytha's breath caught in his throat. The saint's piercing light purple eyes, etched with intricate runes, locked onto his. The faint glow of the runes seemed alive, pulsing with an unearthly energy. His long, snow-white hair swayed in the breeze, giving him an ethereal appearance. The wind carried a faint scent of ozone, amplifying the aura of divinity around him.
Purple essence radiated from Saint Quiver's body, forming an almost imperceptible barrier that danced and flickered like living fire. He was beauty and destruction personified, a being that seemed to exist on a plane far removed from mortal comprehension.
Rytha could only stare, his mouth agape, as the saint regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and detachment.
With a snap of his fingers, Saint Quiver broke the silence. "Child, what... who brought you to the Spirit Realm? And how did you end up in Ivay?"
The words jolted Rytha from his stupor. He scrambled to find his voice, bowing his head slightly in respect. "My name is Rytha Shirohaga. I was exiled to Ivay for a crime I... I was manipulated into committing."
Saint Quiver's expression remained impassive, though a faint flicker of emotion crossed his eyes—a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
Rytha pressed on, his voice trembling slightly. "I was instructed to come here to find you, Saint Quiver."
The saint's brows furrowed. He tilted his head, his gaze sharpening. "Who instructed you?"
"Shiro," Rytha answered, his tone resolute.
The name seemed to shatter the saint's composure. A violent gust of wind swept through the forest, rustling the leaves with an almost malevolent force.
"What?" Saint Quiver's voice was cold, tinged with disbelief.
"Shiro," Rytha repeated, his courage bolstered by the memory of his journey. "He told me who you are and where to find you. He guided me—"
Before Rytha could finish, the air was knocked from his lungs. A sharp, brutal force struck his chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain lanced through him as Saint Quiver's armored boot pressed down, pinning him in place. The weight was immense, crushing his ribs and leaving him gasping for breath.
The saint's eyes bore into him, filled with a killing intent that froze Rytha's blood. "Shiro has been dead for centuries. He was the creator of the Shirohaga clan. If what you say is true, prove it."
He smiled then, but it was not a kind smile. It was the smile of a predator toying with its prey, the same smile Kaguya had given Rytha during their last encounter.
"Activate your Tenagen," Saint Quiver demanded, his voice laced with scorn. "Let me see the proof, because I sense no soul essence in you."
Rytha tried to speak, but the pressure on his chest made it almost impossible. "I... I can't," he gasped. "Shiro said I have a curse. I came to find you because... because I want to be strong. Strong enough not to be shunned by those I care for. Please... help me..."
Before he could finish, his body gave out. Darkness crept into the edges of his vision as he lost consciousness.
Saint Quiver stared down at the unconscious boy, his expression unreadable. "Hmph. Just a child after all," he muttered, releasing the pressure on Rytha's chest.
End of chapter 24.