Blood seeped into the earth, painting it a grim crimson as cries of agony and the grisly cacophony of carnage filled the air. A severed head rolled to a halt before a three-year-old boy named Tampura, whose eyes were wide with terror. An unknown assailant, wielding dark mana, was mercilessly decimating his clan.
"No... W-What are you doing?! Who are you?!" he stammered.
The malevolent figure turned towards Tampura, advancing slowly. The boy retreated, his heart pounding with fear and sorrow. The assailant regarded Tampura with cold indifference and resumed the massacre, now slaying Tampura's parents before the boy's very eyes. Witnessing this, Tampura fled, tears streaming down his face. He spent hours weeping in the forest until an elderly couple, Ezra and Pab, discovered him.
"Huh! What is a child doing all alone in the forest? Are you lost, my boy?" Pab exclaimed.
Tampura continued to sob, prompting the couple to offer him refuge in their home. They served him some coffee, and Ezra sat beside him, her expression kind.
"How are you feeling?" she inquired gently.
Tampura remained silent, his young mind haunted by the day's horrors. Pab knelt beside him, his voice reassuring.
"Listen, kid, you're safe here. Nothing will harm you. So tell us, what's wrong?"
Tampura sighed, the weight of his grief palpable. "My mom... My dad... My family..." he scoffed the words barely a whisper. "They are all gone."
As Tampura wept, the old couple's hearts ached with compassion, and they resolved to raise him as their own. Though Tampura's heart was shattered by the loss of his parents, he gradually found solace with the elderly couple. With each passing day, his resolve to avenge his family only grew stronger.
Four years had passed, and Tampura had grown much stronger than before; now seven years old, he possessed the power to level mountains with a mere shockwave from his fist, fueled by the mana coursing through him. This newfound strength fueled his determination to confront the evildoer. He was often seen training with Pab in the fields, and after a rigorous session, he would sit, quenching his thirst with a bottle of water, his resolve as unyielding as ever.