The fog fades away, and the flames engulf the open field. A man is walking towards me. The same man who killed everyone. We were only told to kill a man, but little did we know he spewed flames from his fingertips. His charred hands seeped smoke.
"Ple-Please, spare me... I won't tell a single soul what I saw, I swear!", are the words that I managed to spit out while trembling.
His lifeless eyes stared me down, his black hair swaying in the wind, all I could distinguish from his face and the surrounding smoke, was a name tattooed on his neck, written in Japanese.
"Kouji.", was the name.
He held his palm to me, it began to spark as flames began to form.
"I'm sorry, nothing can be left...", were the last words that I would ever hear.
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In a world where each bloodline has an inherited element, not everyone has the ability to awaken it.
For centuries, our ancestors have told stories of people who wielded flames or created water through their bare hands, although we never believed them. They were always there.
Only being able to awaken these elements whenever experiencing an event that unleashes their true desire to live, their purpose in life. Their awakening.
These people were lost to time. Along with the constant struggle to survive within the world, people lost their desire to fight for their lives, for what's theirs, everything being served to them on a silver platter.
Although a hand few people had these powers in the present, their history, and origins were forgotten. But despite everything, we'll see this story unravel, the history of this world, and what would come to be.