PROLOGUE

The lights in the underground bunker laboratory flickered as Dr. Kiyoshi Hamura hunched over a metal table, his hands steady despite the chaos outside. It was 1945, and Japan's defeat in the war was all but set in stone. Air raid sirens wailed across the city, and distant explosions sent tremors through the earth. But here, in the darkened depths of an unmarked bunker, Hamura continued his work with fervent focus.

He looked down at the rows of vials neatly arranged on the table, each one filled with a faintly glowing liquid—a result of his years of experiments on the soldiers of the Dai-Nippon Teikoku Rikugun (Imperial Japanese Army). What had begun as a desperate attempt to turn the tide of war had evolved into something far greater. He had unlocked a secret buried deep within the human genome, something he had named Gene X—a latent potential for untapped strength, speed, and resilience. The serum could push human beings beyond their natural limits, a discovery that could change the very nature of power.

A pale soldier lay strapped to a table nearby, muscles twitching as the serum flowed into his veins through a series of IV tubes. Hamura watched the monitors as heart rates spiked, pupils dilated and blood pressures fluctuated wildly. For weeks, he had tried to perfect the formula, but the results were always the same—short bursts of incredible power followed by biological collapse, the human body unable to sustain such drastic modifications. Yet, the progress was undeniable. The serum had begun to awaken abilities beyond mere physical enhancement. In one test, a soldier's body temperature had dropped rapidly, freezing the moisture in the air around him. Another had briefly altered the magnetic field of the room, sending the laboratory's instruments into a frenzy, sadly sealing his fate.

But with Japan's defeat looming, time was running out.

Hamura moved swiftly through the lab, his face drawn with exhaustion but his eyes sharp. He knew the American forces would arrive soon, and with them, the threat of exposure. He couldn't let his work fall into their hands. One by one, he smashed the glass tanks that had held his failed experiments, acidic liquids hissing as they ate through the concrete floor. He gathered the vials of his perfected formula, slipping them into a lead-lined case. When the last traces of his research had been wiped away, he set the incinerators alight, watching as years of work turned to smoke and ash.

As the flames engulfed his lab, Hamura made a silent vow. This was not the end—only a new beginning.

The world changed on September 2, 1945, when Japan signed the surrender treaty aboard the USS Missouri. For the public, it marked the end of an era. But for Hamura, it meant the beginning of a new mission. He disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind his military affiliations and vanishing from the radar of the Allied forces. The research that had nearly altered the outcome of the war became a ghost project, known only to those few who had glimpsed its potential.

Hamura resurfaced years later under a different name, a humble biologist in the quiet outskirts of Kyoto. He kept to himself, taking up menial work to cover his tracks, all the while refining the formula in secret. His resources dwindled, and the years began to wear on him. He knew he could not perfect the serum alone, not without new subjects or better equipment. He needed allies—those with ambition, vision, and, most importantly, the wealth to fund his continued work.

It was in the smoke-filled parlour of a secluded estate that Hamura found his answer. The room buzzed with murmurs as men and women from Japan's most influential families gathered around him, their eyes gleaming with the hunger for power. They were the remnants of the old elite—industrialists, former military commanders, and business magnates who had survived the American occupation. Now, they sought a way to reclaim the influence they had lost.

Hamura revealed his vision to them, speaking of a new age, one where power was not determined by politics or treaties, but by the strength of the human body itself. He told them of the serum he had created, the potential to craft warriors who could stand above ordinary men—soldiers who could bend the elements, break steel with their bare hands, and heal wounds that would kill lesser beings.

But with such power came risk. If they failed, the families knew that the consequences would be dire. Even whispers of treason against the new Japanese government could mean imprisonment or death. Yet Hamura's promises kindled a fire in their hearts, and they agreed to fund his work in exchange for a share in the serum's future.

For years, Hamura toiled in hidden laboratories, guarded by men loyal to the cause. The experiments continued, his funding now basically limitless after also contacting families outside Japan and Asia, refining the serum until its effects were no longer temporary. He created warriors who could endure the strain, who could command their newfound abilities with precision. The families provided their own members as test subjects—sons and daughters whose veins flowed with ambition. As each generation passed, they grew stronger, faster, more inhumanly powerful.

By the late 1980s, the families had amassed a force unlike anything the government had ever faced. And with the perfected serum in their veins, they finally made their move.

The old government fell with a whisper, not a bang. Politicians disappeared in the night, their seats filled by those whose names carried ancient weight. Those who resisted found themselves facing enemies whose bodies could shrug off bullets and break through reinforced steel. Within months, the new order had established itself, a world where laws were replaced by a single rule: those with strength would decide their fate. The families stepped into the vacuum of power, carving up territories, shaping borders not with treaties, but with blood and strength.

They left behind the pretence of constitutions and courts. To challenge a ruling family meant challenging the might that they wielded. And as the families grew stronger, the serum remained their closely guarded secret, a small batch being released annually to the public, ensuring that they would never be challenged by the common people they ruled over.

The era of nations had ended. In its place was a world where power was the only currency, where the line between conqueror and tyrant blurred into insignificance. It was a world of strength and ambition.

And at its heart, hidden in the shadows of history, was the legacy of Dr. Kiyoshi Hamura.