The world trembles under the weight of endless conflict. Empires clash, armies fall, and chaos reigns. Amidst this turmoil, a forbidden ritual is taking place—one that will birth a being both feared and revered—Zeron. His creation is an unholy fusion of the most destructive bloodlines ever known, drawing from Yujiro Hanma's titanic strength, Baki Hanma's relentless will, and Guts' unyielding rage.
In the shadow of a forgotten temple, nestled deep within the heart of a kingdom ravaged by years of war, a group of enigmatic figures gathers. Cloaked in tattered robes, their faces are a mix of hope, fear, and ambition. They are the architects of the impossible: the birth of a living weapon.
The air crackles with magic as the ritual begins. Arcane symbols shimmer, drawn in the blood of fallen warriors. A firestorm of spiritual energy forms as the bodies of Yujiro and Baki Hanma—long deceased—are summoned, their unimaginable powers intertwining with that of Guts. The result is a fusion of brutal might, indomitable will, and searing rage, all focused into one being.
The moment the final incantation is uttered, the temple is bathed in a violent explosion of light. Flesh tears, the earth quakes, and the sky darkens as Zeron is born from the convergence of three titans' bloodlines. His body is an imperfect vessel, shaped by arcane forces and divine fury, his first breath one of cold silence. There is no cry of life, no scream of suffering—only the understanding of his purpose: to be both weapon and monster, the ultimate force of destruction.
Zeron's first moments in the world are chaos. His senses explode into overdrive—sight, sound, touch—all vying for his attention. His muscles feel as though they were forged in the very bowels of the earth, a power greater than anything he could ever have comprehended. His body is a weapon, each movement brutal and efficient, yet his mind is blank—a newborn in a world that demands dominance.
He rises to his feet, his instincts guiding him more than reason. His creators stand in awe, murmuring about the success of their experiment. But Zeron feels no loyalty, no sense of gratitude toward them. He is a being forged from the darkest parts of mankind's past, and his first instinct is not to obey but to destroy. His vision narrows, focused on nothing but the urge to fight, to test the limits of his power.
He moves with terrifying speed, his body tearing through obstacles like a storm through a fragile city. The figures who summoned him flinch as he rips through their constructs—walls, pillars, and statues—each one crumbling under his force. But even as he revels in the raw power of his body, there is something unsettling. Amidst the violence, Zeron feels an emptiness—a void that gnaws at him from the inside. He does not know what it is, but the sensation grows with each passing second.
Zeron's introduction to the world comes swiftly—he is cast into the heart of a battlefield, a place where survival is measured in strength and bloodshed. The clash of steel, the screams of dying warriors, and the scent of death fill the air. He is unleashed into the chaos with no training, no direction—his only guide the raw power of his body and the bloodlust that drives him forward.
The enemy is vast, but they are nothing compared to the force Zeron has become. His movements are like a blur, his fists smashing through armored warriors as if they were mere ragdolls. His power is undeniable—he is an unstoppable force, a whirlwind of violence. Each strike, each roar, carries with it the overwhelming might of the Hanma bloodline and the berserker fury inherited from Guts.
Yet as the battlefield falls silent and Zeron stands amidst the carnage, something begins to claw at his mind. The bodies of fallen enemies litter the ground, their blood mixing with the dirt. The violence, the brutality—it is all too familiar. The rage, the bloodlust—it mirrors the haunted memories of Guts' past, the endless conflict and torment that shaped him into the man he became. Zeron feels it all—the weight of every battle fought, every life taken, and the trauma that resides within him.
The berserker within him stirs, urging him to continue the carnage. But for the first time, Zeron hesitates. A part of him questions: is this all he is destined to be? A tool of destruction? A puppet of rage?
In the midst of the blood-soaked battlefield, Zeron is approached by an unexpected figure—Rael. His eyes are sharp, his gaze calculating, and his posture betrays a life lived in the shadows of war. Rael sees through Zeron's raw power, recognizing the untapped potential within the beast.
With a voice cold as ice, Rael steps forward, cutting through the violence and chaos. "You are a weapon," he says, his words slicing through the madness. "But weapons can be controlled. You must learn control, or you will be consumed by the very rage that defines you."
Zeron's first instinct is to disregard Rael's words. The violence calls to him, the rage sings in his blood, urging him to destroy. But something in Rael's calm presence catches him—a flicker of understanding, a promise of something beyond the endless cycle of violence.
Zeron's first taste of the world is one of violence, bloodshed, and the undeniable power coursing through his veins. His first steps are marked by destruction, but beneath the raw fury lies a growing sense of unease—a desire for something more. The weight of his heritage, the fear of being consumed by his rage, and the uncertainty of his true purpose all gnaw at him.
As the bloodied battlefield stretches out before him, Zeron realizes that his journey has only just begun. He is no longer just a weapon, no longer just a monster. He is something more—something caught between the beast that drives him and the man he might one day become.