Haru woke to pain.
A deep, aching pain that clung to his bones, as if his entire body had been set on fire and left to smolder. His ribs throbbed with every shallow breath. His limbs refused to move.
The cave ceiling swam above him, the flickering torchlight casting shifting shadows on the damp stone. Somewhere nearby, water dripped steadily, a rhythmic reminder that he was still alive.
But he wasn't supposed to be.
The warlord's blade had come down. He should have died there, in the ashes of his village. And yet…
Haru clenched his teeth, forcing his fingers to move. His hands trembled, weak and unfamiliar. He turned them over, staring at the thin red lines glowing faintly beneath his skin.
The Bloodflame.
It had finally awakened. But it didn't feel like power. It felt like a curse.
"Awake already?"
The voice was calm, steady. Haru turned his head, his muscles screaming in protest.
The man in red robes sat cross-legged near the cave's entrance. His face remained hidden beneath the brim of his hat, but Haru could feel his gaze—measuring, waiting.
Haru swallowed, his throat dry. "Who… are you?"
The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached into his sleeve and tossed something toward Haru. It landed beside him with a dull thud.
A rice ball.
Haru hesitated. His stomach twisted—not with hunger, but with the memory of his last meal, of his village before the fires came.
The stranger sighed. "Eat."
Haru's fingers curled into the dirt. "I don't need your food."
The man's voice remained patient. "No, but you need your strength."
Silence stretched between them. Haru's breath was shallow, his ribs still raw from the warlord's strike. His mind screamed at him to stay defiant, but his body had already betrayed him.
He reached for the rice ball.
It took all his effort just to lift it. His fingers felt like they belonged to someone else, shaking and clumsy. The moment he bit into it, warmth spread through him—simple, plain warmth, but real.
The stranger watched quietly.
"You survived something you shouldn't have," he finally said. "That warlord left you for dead. He didn't finish you off because he didn't see you as a threat."
Haru's jaw clenched. The rice turned to ash in his mouth.
"That's how weak you were," the man continued. "But that fire in your veins? It means you're not done yet."
Haru forced himself to swallow. "What do you know about my Bloodflame?"
The man's fingers drummed lightly against his knee. "I know that what you used back there wasn't normal."
Haru frowned.
"Most Bloodflames," the man went on, "are inherited. Passed down through families, trained from childhood. But yours—" He gestured toward Haru's hands. "—didn't awaken naturally. It was forced out in death."
Haru's fingers twitched. He thought of the warlord's blade, the scent of his mother's blood.
The man leaned forward slightly. "That kind of awakening comes with consequences."
Haru met his gaze. "What kind of consequences?"
The man tilted his head. "That's what you'll have to find out for yourself."
Silence again. Only the drip of water filled the cave.
Then, the man stood.
"You have two choices, Kurogane Haru."
Haru stiffened at his name.
The man continued, "You can stay here. Let your grief eat away at you. Let the warlord's mercy be the reason you rot in this cave."
He turned toward the entrance, the wind shifting his cloak.
"Or you can get up."
Haru's muscles ached. His body wanted nothing more than to sink back into the dirt, to let the exhaustion take him.
But something burned beneath his skin.
The fire.
Slowly—painfully—he pressed his hands into the ground. His arms shook, struggling under his own weight. His ribs protested. His breath hitched.
But he pushed.
The man watched in silence as Haru dragged himself upright, his body swaying, his vision swimming.
When Haru finally stood, gasping, sweat dripping down his brow, the man nodded once.
"Good."
Then, without another word, he walked into the night.
Haru clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
His legs felt weak. His ribs ached. His hands trembled.
But for the first time since the night the skies burned…
He had taken a step forward.
He stood there, swaying. His legs threatened to give out beneath him, but he forced them to stay firm. His breath was ragged, his ribs burning with every inhale.
The man in red robes—his only lifeline in this unfamiliar place—had already disappeared into the night, leaving Haru alone in the dim cave.
The silence pressed against him.
For the first time, he noticed just how far removed he was from the world he once knew. The comforting noise of the village, the scent of morning rice cooking over the fire, his mother's humming—gone.
Only the distant howl of the wind and the steady dripping of water remained.
His fingers twitched, his body itching for something—anything—to hold onto. But there was nothing. No home. No family. Just him.
And the Bloodflame.
He looked down at his trembling hands. The faint red glow had faded, but he could still feel it, simmering beneath his skin like dying embers.
What was it? A gift? A curse?
He clenched his fists.
His father once told him, "Power without discipline is like fire in dry grass—it will consume everything, including you."
Was this what he meant?
Haru staggered forward, each step sending jolts of pain through his muscles. He needed answers.
He needed to survive.
---
The cave was cold. Much colder than he expected.
Haru curled up near the small torch left behind by the stranger, his knees drawn to his chest. He was exhausted, but sleep refused to come.
His mind wouldn't stop racing.
The memories hit him like waves crashing against a crumbling shore. The screams. The blood. His mother's eyes, wide with terror.
He squeezed his head between his hands.
No. Stop.
Thinking about it wouldn't bring them back. It wouldn't change what happened.
But still…
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He gritted his teeth, forcing them back. He had no right to cry—not when he had survived.
He forced himself to focus on something else. The cold air. The rough stone beneath him. The rhythmic drip of water.
A distraction. That's all he needed.
His gaze drifted to the cave entrance. Outside, the world stretched endlessly beneath a sky filled with stars.
If he left now… where would he even go?
He knew nothing of the outside world. His village was his whole life. And now it was gone.
The thought made his stomach twist.
He pressed his forehead against his knees, breathing deeply.
One step at a time.
He wasn't dead yet.
---
By the time morning arrived, Haru was barely able to move.
The night had been long, restless. His body was stiff, his ribs aching worse than before. Hunger gnawed at his insides. The single rice ball he had eaten wasn't enough to sustain him.
But there was no food here.
No food, no medicine, no shelter from the elements.
If he stayed here, he would die.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to sit up. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored them. He had to find the man from last night.
The one who knew about the Bloodflame.
Using the cave wall for support, he pushed himself to his feet. The moment he let go, his vision blurred, and he staggered forward. His knee buckled, sending him crashing onto the stone floor.
Pain exploded through his body.
He groaned, pressing a hand to his ribs. Damn it…
He wasn't strong enough. Not yet.
But he couldn't stay here.
With shaking limbs, he tried again, this time using slower movements. One foot forward. A deep breath. Another step.
Pain still lanced through him with every motion, but he didn't stop.
He wouldn't stop.
By the time he reached the cave entrance, sweat dripped down his face. His breaths came in short, sharp gasps.
But he had done it.
The outside world stretched before him—towering mountains, dense forests, rivers carving through the valleys.
Somewhere out there was the man in red.
And Haru would find him.
---
Haru didn't make it far.
Barely an hour into his journey down the rocky terrain, his legs gave out. His body collapsed onto the ground, his fingers digging into the dirt.
He couldn't keep going like this.
He needed food. Water. Rest.
His mind raced, trying to remember his father's survival lessons. What did he say about finding water?
A memory surfaced.
"Follow the land. Water always flows to the lowest point."
Haru lifted his head, scanning the terrain. Below, past the jagged rocks, he spotted a thin line of green—trees, thicker than the others.
A river.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself forward.
The descent was brutal. Every step threatened to send him tumbling down the mountainside. His balance was weak, his body uncooperative.
More than once, he slipped, scraping his hands and knees against sharp rocks. His blood stained the dirt, but he barely noticed.
Survival was all that mattered.
By the time he reached the river, his vision was swimming. His throat was dry, his entire body trembling with exhaustion.
But he had made it.
Collapsing onto his knees, he cupped his hands into the cold, rushing water, bringing it to his lips. The relief was immediate.
The water tasted like life.
For the first time since waking in the cave, he allowed himself to breathe.
But his peace didn't last.
A rustling in the bushes sent a jolt of fear through him.
Haru froze, his heart pounding.
Then—
A wild boar burst from the undergrowth.
Haru barely had time to react before the beast charged.
Pain exploded through his body as the boar's tusks slammed into his side, sending him rolling across the ground.
His breath caught in his throat. His vision blurred.
The boar snorted, pawing the ground, readying for another charge.
Haru tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't move. His body was too weak.
He was going to die.
No.
Something inside him stirred. A flicker of warmth beneath his skin.
The Bloodflame.
His heart pounded. He had no idea how to control it. No idea how to use it.
But if he didn't do something now, he would die.
The boar charged again.
Haru clenched his fists.
Move!
The fire inside him flared—wild, untamed. His vision turned red.
And then—
The world erupted in flames.