**Chapter 1: The Fall**
" Father, look at this! I've just learned to control the flow of water!" exclaimed Ian, a young boy born into the esteemed Gram family, a child graced with a natural talent that had consistently elevated the pride of both his family and clan. His prowess in martial arts was nothing short of extraordinary.
"Ah, my boy, that is truly marvelous! I must admit, I never exhibited such talent at your age," his father, Zenith Gram, declared, lifting Ian into the air with a beaming smile. Zenith felt an immense pride swell within him; Ian was not merely a son to him but a cherished reminder of his missing wife. Their bond was profound, as Ian adored his father with all his heart, and at the tender age of seven, he had already showcased remarkable potential.
"Clan head, you have been blessed with a child of the heavens. Which deity do you think will choose your son at the upcoming ceremony?" inquired the clan elder, his voice filled with joy. Ian had become the delight of the entire clan.
"Father, Father! Can I go play with the second elder's son?" Ian asked eagerly, and his father, with a doting smile, nodded in approval.
"All I desire is for him to be happy; I care not for the gods he may serve," Zenith thought as he watched his son run joyously into the embrace of the second elder's son, his laughter echoing through the halls. Zenith then turned to make his way toward the throne room, flanked by the seven elders.
"Big brother Marcus, what shall we do today? I truly enjoyed your sword dance!" Ian exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration for his older brother.
"Today, we shall do whatever you wish! Your father mentioned you've mastered the flow of water—how impressive! Who knows, by the time you reach my age, you may very well surpass me," Marcus replied, a broad smile illuminating his face as they made their way to the Gram family garden. Ian dashed ahead, his laughter ringing like music in the air, as his black hair fluttering in the breeze, and his green eye's sparkling like a never before. He was undeniably a handsome boy, spreading joy wherever he went. The butlers and maids paused in their duties, captivated by his infectious giggles.
"Young Master Ian is such a joyful child; may his happiness last eternally," they all silently wished, for Ian's sweetness had even won the affection of the fiercest beasts of the family.
"Big brother Marcus, look! I can wield a sword too!" Ian declared, picking up a sword and demonstrating his newfound skills for Marcus. He moved with the grace of water flowing effortlessly, leaving the maids, butlers, and even Marcus in awe.
"What a heavenly genius!" a shadowy figure murmured enviously from the sidelines, his heart filled with a desire to appropriate this child's blessings and talents. However, Marcus quickly caught sight of the lurking man. "Young Master Ian, go play with the head butler!" he urged, swiftly vanishing from his spot to confront the cloaked figure, sword poised at the man's neck.
"Do not dare to turn or move a muscle, or your head will part ways with your body," Marcus warned, anger boiling within him at the thought of anyone coveting his master's gifts.
"If I were you, I wouldn't act so rashly. I am no ordinary man," the cloaked figure replied coolly, a hint of amusement in his voice. He had faced such threats before, but this time felt different; he sensed the resolve in the young man's stance.
"The gods of the royal emperor have dispatched me to take this child, and I will not hesitate to bring your entire clan to its knees if necessary," the figure declared ominously. A chill of dread coursed through Marcus. He quickly distanced himself, executing the Gram family's sword technique; each step unleashed a flurry of blades into the air. "Take the young master and flee now!" He commanded as the head butler With no hesitation grabbed Ian as he activated "shadow steps" vanishing into the shadows , fear gripping him, but his sole focus remained on protecting Ian.
"Ian, this is the last thing I will do for you today," Marcus declared as he lunged forward, unleashing every secret technique he had mastered: "Gram Family Sword Dive," "Infernal Sword," "Protection of the Divine Poison God." He soared into the air, his body slicing through the atmosphere like a blade. Yet, the cloaked man was formidable, evading the attack with a swift leap, leaving a deep gash in the ground behind him. "Ah, that was deadly," he muttered, quickly retreating as a wave of black poison surged toward Marcus. With determination, Marcus channeled his sword energy, known as "kai," to repel the toxic miasma. "Leave your neck exposed!" he roared, fury igniting within him. Yet, he felt the weight of abandonment; even his own god seemed to have forsaken him.
"Why have you deserted me, god of Poison? I believed you loved me!" Marcus cried out, engulfed in despair.
"You are indeed abandoned. That very god is among those who conspired to capture that child. You stand alone; no one will come to your aid," the cloaked man taunted, laughter dripping from his words.
"And who said he is alone?" Marcus was surprised , turning at the sound of a familiar voice. His father, the second elder, had arrived. Tears welled in Marcus's eyes. "Focus! Even if your god abandons you, I, your father, will never forsake you!" he shouted, charging forward with renewed vigor, his blades aimed at the cloaked figure.
But the adversary was devilishly strong, retaliating with sheer brute force. Yet, the second elder remained undeterred, diving in and unleashing a calm "sword wave," his sword flowing like water. "Such a brutal move—like father, like son. But let me break the news to you: today, I shall leave with your heads!" The cloaked figure wore a sinister smile as he lunged toward them, seizing Marcus and pulling him close. Yet, his father was unwavering in his resolve, clutching his son's shirt with fierce determination before hurling him skyward. "My son, you must leave this place—this is a father's wish," he implored, his voice filled with desperation. In a swift motion, he began to chant an ancient mantra, causing a rift to open in the air, from which a hand emerged to grasp Marcus and draw him into the unknown. "How touching," the cloaked figure sneered, fury bubbling beneath the surface. "We shall leave your life, then."