Legends speak of the Seventeen Gods, divine rulers who shaped the world and chose the strongest to inherit their power. Some were worshiped, others feared, but one truth remained—their will decided the fate of all men.
Yet, fate had never been kind to Raiga Omari.
The sea raged, dark clouds twisting like living beasts above the endless waves. A lone ship cut through the storm, its sails torn, its crew gripping the deck, trying not to be swept away. Among them, a boy stood at the bow, steady. The wind howled, the rain hit his skin like needles, yet his golden eyes burned with something greater.
"Captain! We can't hold on much longer!" a voice shouted over the storm.
Raiga barely heard them. His fists clenched, his body moved with the rhythm of the sea, but his mind was elsewhere. Beyond the horizon, past the raging waves, lay his true destination—the land where the Gods once walked.
"Then hold on harder," he said, voice firm.
Thunder roared, and for a moment, the world seemed to crack open. The storm raged on, but Raiga did not waver. His journey was only beginning, and no force—**not the sea, not the sky, not even fate itself—**would stop him.
Tonight, the storm wouldn't decide his fate. He would.
As dawn broke, the storm finally loosened its grip. The once-wild waves calmed, and the heavy rain faded into a light drizzle. The crew, exhausted and battered, let out heavy sighs of relief. Some slumped onto the deck, others checked the ship for damages.
Raiga remained at the bow, staring ahead. In the distance, through the mist and morning light, land emerged. Jagged cliffs rose from the sea, their peaks shrouded in swirling clouds. The shore was untouched, ancient, as if the world itself had forgotten this place.
"We made it," someone whispered behind him.
Raiga's grip on the railing tightened. No, this was just the start.
As the ship neared the shore, an uneasy silence fell over the crew. There was something about this place—something watching.
Raiga stepped forward, his boots thudding against the damp wood. The moment his feet touched the sand, a deep pulse ran through his body, like the land itself was waking up.
He exhaled slowly. This was where his destiny began.
The air was thick with salt and something older, something untouched by time. The sand beneath Raiga's feet was smooth yet firm, like a path meant to be walked. His heartbeat steadied, but the strange pulse within him did not fade.
Then, the ground trembled.
A low rumble, distant yet deep, rolled through the cliffs. The crew stiffened, hands reaching for weapons, eyes scanning the misty landscape. Birds scattered from the treetops ahead, their cries sharp against the morning silence.
Raiga took a step forward. His golden eyes flickered, focused on a dark figure standing atop the nearest cliff.
It wasn't a man.
A towering statue loomed over them, carved from black stone. It depicted a warrior, its face obscured by an ancient helmet, its body poised in a battle stance. Time had worn its edges, but the presence it carried was undeniable.
"It's just a statue," one of the crew muttered, but his voice wavered.
Raiga narrowed his eyes. No. Something about this felt alive.
And then, the statue moved.
With a grinding sound that echoed through the cliffs, the stone warrior turned its head. Its hollow eyes locked onto Raiga. Dust fell from its joints as it raised one massive arm and slammed its stone fist into the ground.
The earth shook, the sand cracked, and from the base of the cliff, something began to rise.
A test. A trial. A message from the gods.
Raiga smiled, fire lighting in his chest. If they wanted to test him, he would not disappoint.
Before Raiga could react, a figure landed beside him. A young man, lean yet muscular, with sharp blue eyes and a smirk that carried both confidence and mischief. His clothes were torn from the storm, but his stance was firm.
"Looks like you could use some help," the man said.
Raiga eyed him warily. "Who are you?"
"Zapero," the man said, cracking his knuckles. "I was planning to explore this place, but I didn't expect a giant stone warrior."
The ground shook again. From the cracked earth, another presence emerged—a beast.
It was monstrous, its body covered in dark fur with sharp red eyes that burned like fire. Its muscles rippled as it let out a deep growl. The beast was unlike anything Raiga had ever seen, and beside it stood a warrior clad in silver armor, his face hidden behind an intricate mask.
"I am Shema," the warrior's voice boomed. "And you are not worthy to step foot on this land."
Raiga's muscles tensed. He had no powers—yet. But that didn't mean he would back down.
Zapero grinned, stepping beside him. "I don't know about you, but I don't like being told where I can or can't go."
Raiga smirked. "Then let's show them why we belong here."
Side by side, the two warriors charged. The battle for their fate had begun.