The nightmare began when the Emissary of Destruction descended from the skies. It was a malevolent tower that appeared without warning, unleashing a legion of monsters that painted the world in absolute ruin. Mankind stood at the precipice of extinction, helpless against the slaughter, until a miracle finally occurred. The first generation of awakened emerged. We know them now as the founders. With god-like abilities, they suppressed the beastly horde and sealed the rift. The towers crumbled into dust, and for the first time, humanity tasted the sweet nectar of victory against the invaders. The founders saved our world and their legacy was immortalized within the hallowed halls of the founders's mosselum. A century later, a boy named Manado consumes these legends with a burning passion, reading every scroll in the library. The great swordsman, wielding only a withered branch severed an army of 10,000 with a single strike. Beside him stood a mage of infinite wisdom, a caster who commanded the very laws of magic to do his bidding. To most, these are merely fairy tales of a bygone era. But Manado is a dreamer who yearns to carve his name into history. On his right hand lies the proof of his ambition, a mystic seal of the chosen ones. With this mark, he swore an oath to rise just like the founders of old. And speaking of legends, make sure to leave your mark by smashing that subscribe button so you do not miss the next chapter of this saga. But reality is often cruel. While the teacher praises the successful students, Manado stares at a notification of despair he failed. His classmates mock him as they head to a party, suggesting he is only fit to clean up their trash. For an awakened passing should be as simple as breathing. Just writing your name is enough. Yet Monado has failed the Hunter exam for the third consecutive time, becoming the laughingtock of the academy. 3 years, that is the limit. This was his final chance to prove his worth. Despite acing the written test and exhausting his soul to train his aura, despite the mark on his hand, fate has abandoned him. He gazes at the crest on his hand. It is no blessing. It is a useless scar. Tears stream down his face as the dream of standing among the legends shatters into dust. Suddenly, a classmate interrupts his sorrow, telling him to rush to the school gate immediately. Manado quickly masks his pain, feigning ignorance as he wipes his tears and obeys the summons. He wishes he could taste even a fraction of the glory that times he times possesses. To the girls, he is a god. To the boys an idol. This charismatic deity is Haki, an A-rank hunter who stands at the pinnacle of their generation. Manato arrives late and immediately two lackeyis corner him for disrespecting their king by making him wait. But Haki intervenes, commanding them to stand down, claiming he does not support bullying the weak. The idiots scramble to apologize, but Haki whispers a warning, not out of kindness, but because of the reporters behind him. The bullies retreat in fear as a reporter gushes over filming a documentary at the hero's alma mater. The director holds up a photograph intended to be the face of the documentary. It captures a legendary moment. Haki slaying a ferocious dragon with a single devastating slash of his blade. Haki fains embarrassment, acting humble before the lens, claiming the photo makes him shy. Since entering the academy three years ago, he has been a monster of talent, a notorious genius who crushed every evaluation. But Manado knows the truth. Behind that smile lies a demon. For years, Haki has been a massive tormentor, a two-faced jerk who builds his throne on the suffering of others. Manado cannot believe he is trapped in this charade, forced to participate in this propaganda. The cameraman notices Monado lurking in the background and Haki seizes the moment to introduce his dear friend. He pretends to forget the name until a lackey whispers it into his ear. Then Haki exclaims, "Ah, that is right." Manato, treating him like a piece of trash he graciously remembered. He spins a tale of benevolence, claiming he helped Manado pass his exams despite his terrible grades. Manado stands frozen, stunned by the audacity of these lies. As Haki paints himself as a saint, Haki claims Monado begged for money when in reality Haki was the one extorting him. That year together was hell on earth. Yet the reporter laps it up, praising Haki as the embodiment of perfection. Haki strikes a heroic pose for the camera, cynically declaring that he is the awakened who will write the new history. The cameraman zoomed in his voice, oozing with false cheer as he asked if Monado felt blessed by Haky's generosity. Words of gratitude. He froze. There was no way he could thank this scumbag without vomiting in his mouth. Haki flashed a camera ready smile, asking about the failed exam, but then leaned in his whisper dripping with venom. "Your useless trash," he hissed. "Don't you dare ruin my shot." Manato flinched memories of daily torment flooding back. "The hateful days, the abuse. That clown was a nightmare wrapped in a uniform, but fear tightened his throat like a noose. I I'm grateful," Manato stammered, his dignity shattering. "There are no words for everything Haki has done." Satisfied with the performance, Haki dismissed him like a servant. Cut. Let's see the trophies he commanded, diverting the crew. The crew fawned over the shiny awards cameras rolling. As they packed up, the reporter dropped the act, turning to his team. What was that weird kid's name again? Did we even need him in the footage? The disdain in his voice was palpable. A crew member laughed. Cut him. No one cares about losers. In this world, if you're a hunter, you can be the devil himself, and people will still worship you. Power is justice. That's the only truth. Manado stood in the shadows, every word piercing his heart like a dagger. He opened his mouth to scream his existence to say his name, but a loud voice cut through the air. It was Kazaki flanked by his two lackeyis. Meet me at the founders's mausoleum after class. Kazaki ordered. Manado blinked. Why want to retake the test? Kazaki smirked. Manato was stunned. A retake? I'll pull some strings with the association. Kazaki lied smoothly. Manado's mind raced. Then he heard at the whisper to the cameraman. Just filming the charity finale at the mausoleum. Good PR, right? It was all a stunt, a lie. Manado knew he should run. Knew it was impossible for a failure like him. He hated it. He loathed being a prop for that clown's ego trip. But deep down, a desperate flame still flickered. Even if it was a trap, it was a chance. A chance to grasp his dream. To become a hunter. I have to believe he told himself, clinging to a threat of hope. At the mausoleum, Haki posed like a legendary guardian, a lone hero vowing to protect humanity. The shutter clicked. It was the perfect shot for social media. Magnificent, the reporter gushed, checking the photos. Thank you for your time, oh great hero. Can't wait to see the article, Haki beamed. As soon as the van drove off, his smile vanished instantly. He turned to the tomb. Did you find it? He barked at his two fools. They were already digging into the sacred floor, sweat dripping. Right here, boss. They pointed to a hidden breach. A staircase descending into the dark unknown. Is this it? Exactly what I was hunting for. Haki grinned greedily. Stop. A voice cried out. Manato stood there trembling. What are you doing? Kazaki laughed cold and cruel. You still don't get it. I'm on a treasure hunt, you idiot. You're desecrating the founders's tomb. Manado shouted horror rising. Have you no respect for the dead? For the legends? Respect? Haki scoffed. He kicked a piece of the ancient stone structure, shattering it. Crack. They're just rotting corpses, Manado. Dust and bones. I'd be stupid to let this loot sit here just because of some superstition. Normal bodies. Founder bodies. Who cares? Dead is dead. His eyes held zero reverence. Only avarice. Manado clenched his fists. This place was sacred. He dreamed of being like them, of having a name that echoed in history. You bastard. Blind rage took over Manato charged. But the difference in power was an ocean. Haki dodged effortlessly. "Bam!" A fist buried itself in Manato's gut. Crimson blood sprayed from his mouth as he collapsed. "How dare you touch me?" Haki sneered. Manato curled up, pain exploding through his nerves. He was helpless. "Boss, look at this." The lackeyis dumped a backpack full of relics. Manato watched through blurred vision, his heartbreaking. Haki picked up an orb. It pulsed with a magnificent blue light. Look at this aura. It's divine. With this alone, I'll never have to work a day in my life. Manado tried to protest to scream. Stop. But his voice failed him. Haki walked over, looming above him like a dark god. Let me spell it out for your tiny brain. Manado, I wasn't looking for a partner. I was looking for a victim, a coward, a weakling, a nobody. I saw you at the library reading about heroes. Haki laughed. A chilling sound. It was hilarious. You were the perfect pawn. The narrative writes itself. A failure student, desperate and bitter, breaks into the tomb to steal power. A tragic end for a piece of trash. Manado gasped for air. Tears mixing with the blood on his face. I can see the headlines now. Haki mused. Tomb Raider vanishes. The culprit. The eternal failure. Manado. He grabbed Manado by the collar and dragged him to the edge of the underground lake. What was your name again? Uh, doesn't matter. He let go. Manado fell as the dark water rose to swallow him. The last thing he saw was the devil's smiling face. Plunging into the abyss deeper and deeper into the cold embrace of the void. He wonders, "Is this the sensation of death, years of training, blood, sweat, and tears, all of it meaningless in the end." He is fading away, destined to be forgotten by the world. But then a flicker in the deep, radiant lights pierce the gloom. Not stars, but souls. Goling glowing human-like figures encircle him. They reach out, calling to him. A vessel. They claim he is the chosen container, the one destined to carry their unfinished dreams. Manado is baffled. How could someone as weak as him hold such greatness? The figures reveal the truth. They are the heroic spirits, the legendary souls sealed within this lake, the very essence of the ancient heroes. Manado is bewildered. He sees the light. He hears their voices, but his mind reels. Could these truly be the founders of legend? One spirit steps forward, his voice echoing like thunder. He points to the mark on Manado's hand. The mark of the void. Powerless on its own, yet it is a gateway to infinite potential. It can manifest power beyond mortal comprehension. But there is a condition. He must choose a partner. A contract with one spirit to inherit their legacy. They represent the pillars of this world. Ultimate magic, iron wall endurance, god tier swordsmanship, alchemy. All these gifts await his command, but he must choose. Only one path lies before him. Manado hesitates. Does he want power like Kazaki's? No, that is not enough. He craves a power that defies logic. Strength absolute enough to wash away every ounce of humiliation he has ever endured. The voice presses him for an answer. Choose one. But Manado looks up, his eyes burning with madness. I want all of you. He demands everything. Every skill, every soul, every ounce of their might. A request born of pure greed. Yet it resonates. Impossible. The spirits recoil. No vessel can withstand such pressure. To contain a legion of heroes would mean total destruction. But Monado silences them. Shut up. He screams. Stop talking and give me the power. The lights begin to swirl. They converge on the mark of the void. Every insult, every sneer, every moment of weakness fuels the transformation. A massive golden formation ignites beneath him. On the shore, Kazaki and his goons sense a disturbance. They turn eyes wide. Boom. The lake [clears throat] erupts. A pillar of water blasts into the heavens, raining down like a monsoon. Kazaki shields his eyes. What is that? Above the waves, Manado hovers. He is bathed in blinding azure aura. He descends slowly, floating like a deity before mortals. He lands before the stunned bullies. His expression is cold, merciless. One lackey recovers his wits and snears. Look. The cockroach crawled back. Manato stands silent, holding a simple dry twig. The goon bursts into laughter. A twig. You plan to fight us with a stick. Hysterical laughter fills the air. They think he has lost his mind. A twig against steel. It is more comedy than combat. Kazaki growls his patience wearing thin. Enough games. End him. He orders his dogs to slaughter the boy. Make sure he stays in the lake this time. Cut off his head if you have to. The killer's nod. Killing intent flares. One thug steps forward, summoning a gleaming blade. I awakened an A- rank aura skill. He boasts. A trash like you wouldn't understand. I have mastered the way of the sword. You should be honored to die by this technique. Manado tilts his head. The way of the sword, you say. The thug lunges. A blur of steel aimed at Manato's neck, but then swift movement cuts the wind. The thug lands grinning, thinking the job is done. But suddenly, blood sprays. He realizes too late. He has been slashed a dozen times. Manado stands behind him, the twig humming with power. Is that the path of mastery you spoke of? The thug collapses in a pool of red. The other cronies freeze in terror. Manado turns to the fallen swordsman. Would you mind teaching me that path? I'm curious. How does it work? For a master, you fell quite easily. Enraged, the second goon begins to chant, magic circles form. He recites the incantation for the green cradle. The gaze of destruction. I am a seventh circle mage. But Monado simply points a finger. Golden lightning crackles at the tip. Too slow. He whispers. Hadad's lightning. No chant, no delay. The cronies gasp in horror, casting without an incantation. That is impossible. A massive explosion of yellow thunder swallows the mage. When the smoke clears, he is nothing but a charred remnant like bacon forgotten on a stove. Kazaki trembles. He saw it all. A twig that cuts like a legendary blade. A spell cast with a mere thought. It cannot be. There is only one explanation. The legends of old. The sword saint who cut down an army of 10,000 with a dry branch. The grand mage who commanded the elements without a single word. In this era, those are just fairy tales. Myths exaggerated by time. But the awakened souls of the founders's mausoleum. They have found a home inside this vessel. Inside Manato's body, 106 legendary souls reside within him. He remembers the mockery. You will be forgotten, they said. Manado's eyes glow. No, I will be remembered. I am the new myth. As your light explodes from his body, Kazaki takes a defensive stance, sweating cold fear. This power is unreal. How did he absorb them all? The mark of the void. It defied the laws of nature. And Kazaki can feel it. The souls are not just quiet passengers. They are speaking. A hundred voices in Manado's mind, marveling at their new existence. It had been an eternity since the boredom of the void faded. One soul finally dared to stake his claim. He carved out a dominion within the spiritual sea. Mata knew these legends well, having studied the ancient texts. The souls of the founders now dwelled within his very being. Closing his eyes, he gazed into his inner world. A war for supremacy over the boy's flesh, had begun. Emerging from the shadows, a legendary figure appeared. The great sword Saint Hanoki, the man who once decimated an army with nothing but a withered branch. "You remember my name?" the spirit scoffed. "Naturally," Matata replied. "Your deeds are etched in history," the saint narrowed his eyes. And what is your plan? Boy Matata assumed. He meant the trash standing before them. No, the saint corrected sharply. Ignore the insect. I speak of times that asterisk. He pointed a spectral finger into the darkness. Mata's gaze followed his focus sharpening. The A-rank fool Haki mistook the movement for aggression. Stay back, Haki shrieked, his mana flaring in terror. Do not underestimate an A-rank hunter. But before he could even draw his blade, asterisk smack times, Matata backhanded him with the force of a falling mountain. The fool was sent flying like a broken kite. Mata barely registered the hit. He only wanted the obstruction gone. Before him, a catastrophic energy began to swell. Crimson lightning crackled as a demonic aura expanded. Mata stood his ground, the soul of the samurai burning beside him. Meanwhile, chaos engulfed the city streets. A three-headed hellhound rampaged unchecked, destroying everything in its path. A lone figure stood defiant. "Leave this to Kisaragi," the man declared calmly. The beast roared and lunged, jaws gaping wide. But the S-rank hunter ascended to the heavens. With a single devastating strike, he crushed the monster's spine. "The crowd erupted in worship. He took down an A-rank beast with one blow." Kisaragi basked in the glory. "Where is that rookie Haki?" he asked. The interview would surely boost the guild's prestige to new heights. Fame, after all, was just another form of power. He planned to celebrate with a drink, but suddenly the air turned heavy with death. A demonic pressure so vile it forced civilians to their knees. "What is this killing intent?" Kisaragi gasped. "Ordinary hunters would stand no chance against such despair. There was no mistake. This was an S-rank calamity." He extended his senses toward the mausoleum. Back in the dungeon, the fool Haki struggled to rise, but a nightmare had materialized before them. From the looted backpack, darkness spilled forth. Haki trembled. Why is a demon lord here? Because of your greed, Matata stated coldly. You looted the seal that bound it. The sword saint confirmed the worst. By removing the artifacts, the ancient bindings were shattered. It was a void demon that had slumbered for eons. An entity so powerful modern rankings meant nothing. In my era, we hunted them. Hinoi mused. But its mere aura can kill from kilome away. For the current generation, this was the apocalypse. Terror seized Hasaki's heart, and he fled. I must escape, he screamed. Do not run, Mata warned. The beast hunts by sensing fear. Too late. A tentacle lashed out like a viper. Hizaki sensed the death blow and dodged in a panic. He raised his prized blade to defend himself. Asterisk crack times. The steel shattered like fragile glass. That sword had cleaved through dragons, yet now it was useless scrap. The darkness pierced his flesh. The infection spread instantly. He screamed in agony as his life force was drained into the void. In seconds, he was nothing but a withered husk. I warned him. Mata whispered into the silence. The sword saint turned to his descendant. "Are you ready to surrender your flesh to me, boy?" Hinoi prepared to unleash the one-handed divine art. Mata nodded. "I do not mind." The spirit grinned, stepping forward, but suddenly the void erupted. Other ancient souls appeared. They grabbed the saint by his top knot. "Do not be greedy," Hanoki shouted another ancestor. "This divine vessel is not yours alone. It belongs to the lineage. The spectral masters bickered violently. Enough, Matata's voice cut through the noise. I have a condition. I will not yield to just one of you. The founders paused, confused. I will use all of you, Matata declared. To surpass the heavens themselves. He would become greater than any legend before him. The saints scoffed, then smiled. Show me then, Brat. Mata raised the wooden branch. Behind him, the ghost mirrored the stance. A perfect symphony of past and present. Azure energy floods the battlefield as the demon's limb is sliced through like butter. However, Motto's makeshift weapon shatters from the impact. The beast writhes in agony, giving Motto a split second to shift into a new marshall stance. An ancient founder manifests directly behind him, delivering a devastating palm strike that obliterates yet another tentacle. True terror finally floods the monster's gaze as it looks upon this small human. Desperate to survive, the demon focuses its killing intent solely on Monado, preparing to day. End this instantly. But the boy effortlessly snatches up a fallen branch, wielding it like a legendary staff. Yet another founder lends his strength, allowing Motto to smash against the monster's defenses. He dances through the attacks, cycling through the techniques of different marshall masters. The final thunderous blow leaves the beast completely disoriented. Motto calmly walks to his bag, his presence now cold and calculating. He retrieves a bow with the grace of a master archer and unleashes a relentless barrage of arrows. The creature screams as it becomes a pin cushion of agony. Motto isn't finished. The crest on his hand blazes with blinding intensity. He unleashes a storm of physical strikes mixed with high tier magic spells. The monster battered and unable to retaliate appears to be subdued. Motto steps toward a broken sword lying on the ser. It was a trap. The demon launches subterranean tentacles for a lethal ambush. But before they can graze Motto's skin, golden lightning erupts from his body, incinerating the sneak attack into ash instantly. Hovering high above like a judgment god. Manado channels the one-handed sword saints art. He descends like a meteor. His blade cleaves through the tour. Monster severing reality itself beneath the edge. The creature's massive form splits perfectly in two. Motto offers a faint smile, having dominated a calamitous demon. Under the serene moonlight, the night returns to silence, save for a single crow watching from the shadows. Miles away, a young man answers a vibrating phone on a rooftop. He receives the shocking report the monster has already been neutralized. He is baffled, asking if a high-ranking hunter happened to be in the area. The surveillance crow reveals the impossible truth. It was a mere academy student who annihilated the target. Hearing this, the target ops. Young man smiles with intrigue. He needs to meet this anomaly. This is Miori Madori, the strongest awakened being in existence. He takes another call, noting it has been ages since the director reached out personally. As he speaks, he casually rests at top the corpse of a colossal dragon he just slayed. They discuss the S-rank threat that appeared and Madori confirms he didn't touch it. According to the footage they have identified the student, it was Motto. Madori is stunned. Motto is the failure who flunked the entrance exam three times in way a row. Even with video proof, it sounds absurd. So, he asks the director to arrange a meeting immediately. Back at the academy, the air is thick with rumors about the previous day's chaos. Students whisper about a killing intent so heavy it paralyzed them with fear. Another student shivers, claiming the ominous feeling still lingers in the air. A third student arrogantly claims credit, boasting that he was the hero who took down the beast. His friend shuts him down instantly. An S-rank hunter hasn't emerged from this academy in over 10 years. That is exactly the point. The rumors say a student did the impossible, but logic dictates that if someone that powerful existed, they wouldn't be wasting time in the school. There is no way a hidden dragon is hiding among these extras. Ignoring the chatter, Monado drags his feet down the hall, running on fumes. His body screams in agony, and all he hears is gossip about his own secret battle. A bully shoulders past him, sending Motto crumbling to the floor like a ragd doll. The jerk sneers, unable to imagine this weakling is the S-rank hero. To him, the loser on the ground is just trash. Motto struggles to rise, channeling the founders's divine power has completely wrecked his physical vessel. The backlash from using such highlevel arts has left him broken. Suddenly, a voice cuts through the haze. Are you all right? Motto looks up to find B, the spirit of the swordsman staring down at him. Stand up, the spirit commands. Didn't you vow to surpass us all? The words ignite a spark in Motto's soul, reminding him of his path. Yes, that is exactly what he desires, but his limbs feel like lead. The swordsman pushes him, demanding he show his resolve to the world. A student passing by looks at him with pity, thinking Motto has lost his mind, muttering to thin air. The swordsman scans the students, disgusted by the bath, pathetic aura of this generation. They are mediocre at best, barely stronger than ordinary civilians. In his eyes, they are absolute trash. As Motto forces his trembling legs to work, the spirit offers a grim prophecy. If the Tower of Trials opened today, humanity would be extinct within hours. These professionals are weak, but suddenly the spirit freezes. He senses a monster among the sheep. A presence vastly superior to the rabble surrounds them. Motto asks, "What is wrong?" But the swordsman stays silent. The truth is, a massive overwhelming aura just flooded the hallway before vanishing without a trace. At that moment, a voice calls out to Manado, ordering him to the director's office immediately. Matado was certain this was the end. After failing the exam three times, a summon to the academy could only mean one thing, his resignation letter. But the voice on the phone shattered that assumption. It wasn't a dismissal. It was a command. Get to the field immediately. You are being retested. Matado stood frozen, mind racing. A re-examination. It was unheard of. Whispers spread through the campus like wildfire, drawing curious eyes to the windows. History was about to be made, or a public execution witnessed. Matau's body felt heavy, his physical condition far from peak, but he had no choice. First up, the 100 meter dash. The Academy average sat at 3 and 1/2 seconds with the legendary record holding firm at 2.7. Arrival bumped past him, sneering. The walking failure is back for more humiliation. But before the insult could even land, Matado moved. He didn't just run. He vanished. Explosion of speed. The mockers were silenced instantly as he tore across the track. He crossed the finish line in a mind-bending 1.2 seconds. The bully's jaw hit the floor, eyes wide with disbelief. Next, the grueling 3,000 m run. Average 4 minutes 20, record 317. Matado obliterated it, clocking in at 1 minute and 17 seconds. The physical limits kept shattering. Push-ups in 2 minutes. While elite struggled for 400, Matado casually pumped out a monstrous 840 reps. The bench press was a massacre against a record of 620 kilos. Mado hoisted a titan gentlike 1,280 kilos. The dormatory windows were now packed with stunned students. The atmosphere shifted from mockery to absolute awe. This wasn't just passing. This was dominance. The so-called failure was rewriting the laws of human capability by an impossible margin. As the evaluation continued, Matado remained unstoppable. But amidst the adrenaline, a thought crossed his mind. Is this the founders's power lending me strength? Deep within his consciousness, the spectral swordsman scoffed. Do not insult me, boy. I wouldn't lift a finger for such child's play. The spirit watched with amusement. This raw explosive power, it wasn't a handout from the dead. It was entirely Matado's own potential awakening. Meanwhile, in the director's office, the data streamed in. Madori watched the screen, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as the numbers climbed. The director, however, remained skeptical. "Physical stats are fine," he grumbled. "But when I approved this retest, I expected magic." He tapped the desk anxiously. "The boy's physical prowess is an anomaly, but a hunter needs mana. In the past, his capacity was absolute zero. It's impossible to measure what doesn't exist," the director argued. This is a waste of resources for someone of your standing, Madori. The warden agreed, suggesting the boy was a bust. But Midori's eyes gleamed with a knowing light. Patience, he whispered. The real show starts now. Back on the field, the final trial awaited. The mana sensitivity test. Matado stood before the testing apparatus, the air heavy with tension. The instructions were simple. Channel mana, spin the fan blades. The rotation count would determine his fate. Average score 1,500. The standing record a dauntless 4,022. A high wall to climb. For 3 years, that machine had been his nightmare. No matter how hard he strained, the blades never moved. He had been empty. But today, the world sang to him. He could feel it. The ethereal flow of mana dancing in the air, waiting for his command. It started in his right foot, a warm current surging up, weaving through his meridian, circulating with the rhythm of his breath. The cycle completed, gathering in his core. With a sharp exhale, he thrust his palm forward, releasing the torrent of energy. The machine roared to life, the blades ignited with blinding blue light, spinning faster and faster. The hum turned into a scream. The evaluator gasped, the digital counter blurring into a solid line of unreadable numbers. It's too fast. The velocity defied physics. The metal groaned under the stress until boom, a catastrophic explosion rocked the field. Shrapnel flew like deadly projectiles, sending students scrambling for cover. High above the director leaped from his chair. A single fan blade sliced through his office wall, obliterated the ceiling, and embedded itself in the floor inches from his face. Silence reigned in the office. The director stood trembling pale as a ghost. Madori, however, just widened his smile. "Incredible," Madori murmured. "Only the second in history to possess such chaotic, immeasurable potential. He is just like me." On the field, Matato stared at his smoking hand, stunned. He never intended to blow the exam up, literally. The shell-shocked evaluator peaked out from cover. You will you pass. Welcome to the hunters. The crowd erupted into chaos. Matato clenched his fist overwhelmed. "Thank you, founders," he whispered, still believing the spirits were guiding his hand. Within the void, the swordsmen beamed with pride. By hosting the souls of legends, the boy's vessel had been forced to evolve. The mark of the void was no curse. It was the sign of a king. The mediocrity was gone, replaced by a monster in human skin. "I have waited a century for this," the swordsman mused. "Brothers, do you see him? This boy, he is the vessel we died waiting for. Matado breathed a sigh of relief, but his moment of peace was cut short. The air suddenly grew heavy, crushing down on them. From the heavens, a pillar of emerald light slammed into the earth right before him. The shockwave nearly knocked him off his feet. Matado shielded his eyes, heart racing. Who or what had just descended? But inside his mind, the swordsman recognized the signature instantly. That immense suffocating aura. It could only be one person. Midori stepped from the light, greeting the new legend with a challenge in his eyes. Midori, the living legend of the current era and the strongest awakened one in existence. But why would a god walk among mortals? He approached Monado with a knowing gaze. The boy froze, shocked that the apex hunter even knew his name. But Midori wasn't there for small talk. There was one final trial remaining. He wanted the boy to attempt the impossible land, a single strike on the strongest hunter. At just 23, Madori was already a myth. A fullyfledged hunter since the age of nine. His power was absolute. No one could deny he stood at the pinnacle of the world. Weaklings perished in his mere presence. He turned thousands of demons to ash in the blink of an eye. He single-handedly crushed the demon outbreak a decade ago, and the calamity 5 years passed. He is a living singularity. Manado trembled. To think the legend of this era had eyes on him. But as the proposal hung in the air, the ancient swordsman's voice echoed in his mind. Surrender your body, boy. I wish to test my steel against this monster. The students watched in disbelief. The living god stood before them in the flesh and he was challenging Manado. The so-called failure tension suffocated the academy air. The rules were simple yet impossible. Land one hit within 60 seconds to claim victory. Defeat carried no penalty. Midori would only retaliate once every 10 seconds. Do not fear. The legend smiled. I will show you mercy. Manata was free to use any ability. Madori would even grant him a weapon of his choice. A handicap for a god, a lifeline for the boy. Manado's mind raced. An extra test. This was unprecedented. Could he survive a full minute? He asked for confirmation on the weapon. Madori's grin widened with arrogant confidence. My skin is tougher than steel, sharper than any blade. Snap. He shattered a sword with two fingers. The swordsman roared in his head again. Hurry up. Surrender the body. Let me teach this modern brat the meaning of war. The samurai took this personally. He was ready to school the arrogant hero. Manado realized the truth. The spirit was bloodthirsty for Madori's aura rivaled the founders of old. Manado stood no chance in a direct clash. If that was the case, there was only one path forward. Spectators flocked to the windows. A duel between a dropout and a deity was about to unfold. The atmosphere crackled. The ancient spirit urged him to switch, but Manado held his ground. Madori tapped his phone. Begin. The timer started. Manado gripped his blade and launched his assault. The samurai scoffed in disappointment. The boy was fighting alone. Where was the fun in that? Manado knew it was suicide. But to forge his own legend, he couldn't just borrow power. He needed to prove his own worth. He had to strike with his own talent. The blades slashed empty air. Madori dodged effortlessly, eyes glued to his smartphone screen. "Do you have social media?" he teased mid combat. "This clip will definitely go viral." The gap in skill was desparing. Midori danced around the attacks without lifting his gaze. It was like striking a ghost. Not a single thread of Midori's clothes had been touched. Yet, the students noticed something odd. The boy's stamina. His attacks remained relentlessly fierce. To Madori, however, time seemed to crawl. He saw the intent before the muscle even twitched. He was dodging the future itself, sidestepping reality before it even happened. Manado was shocked. His body flowed like water, obeying his every command without fatigue. His stamina was bottomless. Was this the residual gift of the ancient founder? His very physiology was evolving in real time. But then the 10 seconds were up. Midori raised a single finger to the boy's forehead. My turn. A flick of doom. Manado barely twisted away. Death grazing his skin. Boom. The shock wave gouged a trench into the earth behind him. Going easy was a complete lie. If that had hit, Manado would have been sent straight to the afterlife. Madori frowned. He hadn't intended to use lethal force. So why was the destruction so vast? Something was wrong. But Manado knew one thing. If this continued, he wouldn't just be knocked out. Soon, he must ignite the memory of that fateful day. Deeply recalling the sensation of the demon's defeat, channeling the absolute power that once coursed through him, he steals his resolve, energy flooding his veins like a breaking dam. Madori instantly detects the shift in aura. As the boy launches a ferocious assault, he pours his very soul into the strike. The students gasp as Manato's speed defies logic. Mere camera shutters can no longer capture his after image. The movement is a blur. Even Madori admits the difference. The pressure is heavier. The strikes are sharper and deadlier than before. But Manado knows it is not enough. To reach an S-rank legend, his blade must transcend the laws of physics themselves. He senses the air growing heavy around them. The spiritual pressure has altered gravity itself. Is there a hidden condition to unlock or a secret the founders kept buried in the shadows, but Midori checks the time? His interest is fading. The clock is ticking down mercilessly. He prepares to discipline the boy. This time, he decides to end it, promising a strike as light as a falling feather. But even a feather from a dragon carries the weight of a mountain. The impact is devastating. Manado is launched like a ragd doll, crashing into the academy wall as blood sprays from his lips like crushed fruit. Incredible. Truly magnificent. Midori was fighting against the apex of humanity. Yesterday, that single touch would have obliterated him, but he survived. Euphoria swells within him. His body has evolved at a monstrous pace in such a short time. He is becoming a vessel of steel. Yet his skill tree is still empty. He cannot bridge this gap with technique alone, not against a monster of this caliber. But he refuses to yield. He grits his teeth, ignoring the pain to push forward, channeling every ounce of remaining stamina into brute force. He rushes past the instructor. Madori is still bored. Glancing at his screen with casual disrespect. I have seen enough. 30 seconds are up. The test is over. A blur of motion, a chop to the neck, and Monado's consciousness is instantly severed. The lights go out. Midori size. The boy is a diamond in the rough, but nowhere near the brilliance of his peers. The power he sensed was a fleeting illusion. insufficient for the academyy's true standards. He dials his assistant. Prepare the car. We are leaving. This was a waste of my time. The test was a disappointment, a let down. But then Manado's fingers dig into the concrete. Claws of a beast waking from slumber. His grip on the sword tightens like a vice. A terrifying aura erupts from his broken body. Midori freezes. What did you just say? The voice that speaks is not the boys. The ancient samurai has seized the vessel. The rebellious brat is taking a nap. Finally, I can stretch these limbs. Manado is gone. The entity turns its cold gaze to Madori. Leaving so soon. Let us play a little longer. I want to test this new toy. Deep within the void of his mind, Manado watches in silence, a spectator in his own body. While Midori's eyes light up with twisted delight. This is it. This is the suffocating killing intent he was searching for. The same presence that slaughtered the monster. It has returned. Midori realized his error. That presence was the variable he missed. The reason he miscalculated the force of his earlier blow. Is it a hidden skill, a second personality? It does not matter. The boy before him is a monster, and monsters must be hunted. The samurai commands the distance. Do not stray too far, little hero. His blade lashes out, forcing the S-rank warrior to dodge in earnest. The movements have transformed, shedding all hesitation. Strength and speed have ascended to a new realm. This is no longer a student. His swordsmanship is ancient, refined by centuries of blood. Madori's instincts scream. His sharp reflexes detect the cold steel. The blade kisses his skin. A fraction of a second from drawing blood. He dances back, creating space. Realizing one mistake means death. Madori's playfulness vanishes. He is completely focused. The opponent before him is a warrior reborn. Fully intent on claiming victory. The samurai unleashes a horizontal slash, a wave of invisible force, forcing the hero to drop low to avoid decapitation. The attack misses, but the school wall behind him is carved apart. The students recoil in terror, recognizing that this spar has become a war. Madori struggles to read the rhythm. The unpredictability is chilling. It feels as if the boy sees the future, anticipating every counter. Beautiful. It resembles a lost style of fencing, fluid as a calm stream, yet suddenly transforming into a raging torrent of destruction. Marvelous. Madori laughs. This is the level required to challenge a god like me. The air crackles with intensity. 40 seconds have elapsed. It is the instructor's turn to hunt. He launches himself with god-like agility while the samurai stands his ground. Too slow, the samurai scoffs. That clumsy strike will never reach me. He weaves through the attack, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Midori evades, but his face is split with a maniacal grin. Pure joy at the boy's legendary performance. The spectators are frozen, questioning their reality. Is the S-rank hero actually on the defensive. The hierarchy is crumbling before their eyes. The samurai spits. You are annoying me. Stop holding back, human. His voice thunders with authority. Underestimate me again, and I will crush you where you stand. He charges. A blur of violent intent. Once again, seeking blood, Midori laughs, enjoying these fleeting seconds. Very well. He kicks a loose stone, a projectile to break the boy's focus. The distraction works. The stone strikes the weapon pile, drawing the samurai's gaze for a split second, but that is all Midori needs. Death descends from above. Midori clutches a spear, diving like a judgment from the heavens. Manado watches from within, pleased that the hero is finally serious. The students can only watch in awe, trembling as the two monsters collide, witnessing a battle that defies all logic. Steel clashed against steel in a blur of sparks. Even the weapons raining from the heavens were severed instantly, sheared through by their strikes. As if forged of mere parchment, the falling blades crumbled. The samurai pushed the body to its absolute limits, accelerating into a frenzy. The ancient founders watched from the spiritual realm, aruck. His swordsmanship rivals our own, one declared. A true prodigy. What a thrill," another spirit laughed. "If only we possessed flesh and blood to join this magnificent dance of death, but the vessel had limits. The boy's body is too weak," the hooded founder noted. "He is a cracked cup trying to hold an ocean." She urged the samurai to halt before the boy broke, but the samurai was lost in the battle lust. Matado, however, did not blink. His eyes devoured every movement. Vertical slash, horizontal cleave, thrust, evasion. He downloaded the battle data instantly. His fingers twitched, simulating the deadly arts. Shifting his center of gravity, Matado became one with the combat, analyzing the flow of energy. Asterisk clang times, the cheap blade finally shattered under the immense pressure the samurai spat. Next time, pay for quality steel. But the strongest hero only grinned, his heart pounding like a war drum. This was the excitement he had craved for years. Out of blades, the hero taunted. Will you pull a gun now? You have 10 seconds left, boy. Show me a miracle. Mat scanned the battlefield with desperate eyes. There, the arrogant student from earlier stood by the window, a sword at his hip. In a flash, Matau seized the bully's weapon, but the hero was already airborne, a god of destruction hovering above them. Too slow, the hero unleashed a massive strike from the heavens, obliterating a chunk of the academy in a deafening explosion. Dust swirled, but Matado emerged unscathed. He closed the distance instantly, entering the hero's personal space. The duel resumed. Yes, more. The hero roared, intoxicated by the battle. The structure is failing. A student screamed in terror. Run for your lives. While the bully wept over his stolen sword, the hero landed near a jagged blade embedded in the concrete wall. Matado was already in his shadow, poised for the kill. But the hero's senses were divine. He sensed the killing intent instantly. With bare hands, the hero ripped the steel from the wall and hurled it with lethal force, a projectile of death. In that split second, Matado invoked the ancient one-handed style. The air itself seemed to bend around his blade. With a single fluid motion, the projectile was diced into confetti. The hero's eyes widened. "Magnificent," he whispered. "Truly amazing," the hero admitted. But the samurai was not done. He pushed forward, hungry for victory. Immersed in the way of the sword. He wound up for a devastating strike. But times, snap times, the stolen sword crumbled to dust. The weapon could not handle his power. 60 seconds had passed. Time was up. The hero launched his final devastating blow to end the test. It's over. The founder's soul sensed the incoming defeat. Nomat's spirit surged forward. Do not yield. He seized control of his own body, switching places with the samurai. He thrust his hand toward the hero's incoming fist. He barely grazed the hero's knuckles, diverting the kinetic energy by a hair's breath. A technique of pure desperation. Asterisk crack times. His armbbones splintered under the force, but the path was open. He needed just one touch to win. Ignoring the agony, Matato's fist flew toward the hero's unguarded face. In that frozen moment, time seemed to stop. Two geniuses existed in a world of their own. A lifetime of skill condensed into a single hearttoppping second. It was a high-speed chess match of death. The samurai watched from within, stunned. The boy is insane, he realized. To strike now with a broken arm, even a founder would not dare such a reckless gambit. Matado had chosen a path no warrior would tread. A strike from the depths of his soul. But the hero was a monster among men. His other hand snapped up, catching Matado's punch mere millimeters from impact. I failed," Matado thought despair crashing over him like a tidal wave. He hadn't landed the hit, but the hero looked at the boy's broken, trembling arm, and smiled. He gently pulled Matau's fist against his own cheek. asterisk tap asterisk. You passed. The hero beamed. The spectator stood in stunned silence. What just happened? Matado, his spiritual energy spent, collapsed like a puppet with cut strings into the hero's arms. "Darkness took him." "Healer, get over here," the hero shouted. "How did he do?" the secretary asked, appearing in a flash of light. "He's fascinating," the hero grinned, wild excitement in his eyes. Though I may have pulverized his arm by accident. "I can fix it," she sighed, shaking her head. The crowd erupted in whispers. "Did he say pass that rookie?" The realization hit them like lightning. The hero had acknowledged him. The weakling had done the impossible. He hit the strongest hero. Cheers. Shook the building. Matado groaned, waking to a soft green light. The secretary hovered over him, knitting his bones back together with magic. "Stay still," she commanded softly. "Thank you," he rasped. "Congratulations on passing," she smiled warmly. He nodded, too exhausted for words, simply grateful. Only then did the weight of reality settle upon him. "He had conquered the trial." Stumbling back in shock, he stared at his own hands, unable to process the impossible. He had actually managed to land a clean strike on Midori. Suddenly, the hero materialized beside him, a playful smirk on his face. You are a cruel disciple. Midori teased to forget such a legendary moment so quickly. His appearance was so instantaneous that it startled Monado to his core. The hero straightened his posture, his aura shifting. "We are even now," he declared. "You passed, and that is final." The truth was, Madori had gotten serious halfway through the exam. He recalled that split second when the boy's presence changed. At that moment, it wasn't the boy fighting, but the ancient samurai in control. Furthermore, Midori continued, his eyes gleaming with praise. The boy had managed to dodge the hero's strongest technique by a hair's breath. "Your movement was nothing short of a miracle," Madori said. "Be proud of yourself." Manato drank in those words, his heart swelling with emotion. "To hear such praise from the strongest hunter alive was a dream come true." "What comes next?" Manato asked, his eyes burning with determination. Now that I have passed, what is my path? Silence filled the room. Neither the secretary, the hero, nor the students could comprehend the depth of that question. Later, as twilight painted the sky, Manado's mother busied herself in the kitchen. How many guests should I prepare for? She asked, her voice filled with nervous excitement. Manado hesitated, scratching his cheek. Probably just one, he replied softly. He watched her polish the floor until it sparkled her humbleness, breaking his heart. Yet, this was a glorious day for their family. Manato had not only passed the impossible test, but he was also personally escorted home by the legendary Midori himself. I always knew his mother said, tears welling in her eyes. I knew my boy could achieve anything if he just believed. Manato listened to her words, a warm happiness spreading through his chest. However, he noticed her trembling hands. She was putting immense pressure on herself. A celebrity was coming to their humble abode, and she feared their home wasn't worthy. She worried their simple life would leave a poor impression on such a great figure. Hearing her self-doubt, Monado gently scolded her. "Madori isn't that kind of person, Mom." He looks at the heart, not the house. Now the boy waited in his room, anxiety and anticipation waring within him. He stared at the hunter license he had received, the golden card shimmering in the light. Meanwhile, back at the academy, a different scene was unfolding. The hero's assistant had Midori in a brutal leglock. Madori screamed for mercy, tapping out frantically, "I surrender. I surrender." He howled. Did you not tell the boy? The assistant roared. If he won, he was supposed to join our elite squad. I didn't hear you say those words, she accused, tightening her grip. Manado had been left in the dark about his true reward. The assistant was punishing the hero for his air-headed negligence. There were too many prying eyes at the school. Madori Whised trying to explain that was why he had asked the boy if he could visit his home tonight. Within the sanctuary of Manado's house, they could speak freely. He intended to reveal the truth about the boy's choices and more importantly reveal the identity of their real enemies. Real enemies. The phrase echoed in Manado's mind heavy with implication. The great tower had been destroyed by the founders long ago. The current mission of all hunters was simply to call the monsters leaking from dimensional rifts. That was the history they were taught. Is there something more? Manado wondered, gazing at the ceiling. A truth hidden in the shadows. Suddenly, a whisper brushed against his consciousness. The whisper quickly swelled into an energetic roar from within his soul. Do not fall asleep, boy. The swordsman's voice thundered. Manato blinked, finding himself pulled into his inner mental world. He stood face to face with the samurai and the council of ancient founders residing in his psyche. "What is wrong?" the samurai asked, his presence, imposing. "We have been debating a serious matter. They had been arguing amongst themselves, and finally a verdict had been reached. Manado felt a chill of fear. Were they deciding who would possess his body permanently? was his time as himself coming to an end. But actually, they were discussing something far more trivial. Before he could finish that thought, the sound of the doorbell shattered the trance. Manado snapped back to reality. Madori must be here, he thought, relieved. I'll talk to the founders later. He rushed out of his room, but confusion slowed his steps. Why was the house so dark? An ominous silence suffocated the hallway. Then his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and his heart stopped. His mother lay motionless on the cold floor. A scream of pure terror ripped from his throat as he scrambled toward her. As he passed the living room threshold, the nightmare deepened. A stranger sat at their dining table, casual and arrogant. The man had painted nails and was helping himself to the feast his mother had prepared. He chewed loudly, looking down at the food with disdain. This tastes like garbage, he spat. Pots and pans lay shattered on the floor, the kitchen in ruins. The stranger looked up, eyes cold and dead. Did you discipline your mother, boy? If she wanted to impress a guest, she should have used expensive ingredients. Who are you? Manado screamed, his voice cracking with rage. What did you do to her? The man merely sighed, licking sauce from his fingers. Watch your tone, he commanded, his aura flaring. My name is Goro. I am the S-rank hunter sent by Madori to fetch you. I am one of his companions, he lied smoothly. Pack your things. We are leaving this dump immediately. The moment the last syllable left his lips, the air exploded. Manato moved with blinding speed. his hand aimed at the stranger's neck. It was a kill shot fueled by pure adrenaline. But just as his fingers brushed the man's skin, the target vanished. Goro reappeared behind Manado, a mocking smile twisting his face. "Oh, are you challenging me?" he chuckled darkly. Manato fell to his knees beside his mother, trembling. Memories of his father's funeral crashed over him like a tidal wave. She had raised him all alone in this cruel world. She promised she would make him the happiest person alive. He remembered every meal she skipped so he could eat. Every luxury she denied herself so he could have new clothes. She always scolded him for training too hard, yet always patched his wounds with gentle hands. She always made his favorite stew, no matter how tired she was. Manado stood up. The trembling stopped. A demonic aura began to leak from his body. "I will ask you one last time," he said, his voice void of humanity. "What did you do to my mother?" Inside his consciousness, the samurai's eyes widened. an S-rank of this era. The spirit mused. It is about time. My blood boils just looking at that piece of trash. The founders watched intently. This fight would decide everything. It would determine how the ancient spirits would treat Manado from this day forward. The weirdo Goro looked at the boy and laughed. "Aw, your angry face is so cute," he taunted. He raised his hand, charging it with lethal energy to crush the boy. But before the blow could land, time seemed to freeze. With a simple fluid motion, Manado's hand snapped on and caught the S-rank's wrist. The world turned upside down for the arrogant hunter. The ancient founders watched in stunned silence. The boy had perfectly replicated a technique Manado mastered years ago. The assassin was launched through the concrete wall debris raining down as he crashed onto the unforgiving asphalt. While the enemy struggled to recover, Manado approached with the calm of a predator. The poisoner scrambled to analyze the situation, wondering if he had just been hit by a highle iikido art. He had studied the boy's battle data against Midori. But this was different. Not only did Monado possess an overwhelming aura and masterclass swordsmanship, but his arsenal of skills ran far deeper than the report suggested. Manado stared down coldly, noting that an A-rank hunter should be tougher than hockey ever was. He demanded an answer, his patience wearing thin. If the clown didn't speak now, things were about to get catastrophically violent. He asked one last time, "What had this freak done to his mother?" The assassin sneered, replying that asking such a question showed how naive the boy was. It was simple poison. She was an obstacle, so he put her to sleep. If fate was on her side, she might wake up with only permanent organ damage. The assassin scoffed, claiming he couldn't understand why a potential recruit would care so much about a weakling. Suddenly, the freak burst into laughter as if he had heard the world's greatest punchline. Appearing behind the boy in a blur of speed, he mocked his intelligence. But before the killing strike could land, Manado vanished, dodging with effortless grace. The assassin continued his taunts, declaring that Manado would never be a true companion. At best, he would be a mindless puppet obeying orders. Someone as sentimental as this kid would fold instantly if his loved ones were held at knife point. During the exchange, Manado realized his foot was pinned beneath the enemy's soul. The assassin seized the opening, launching a vicious strike. Manado managed to recoil, but a burning sensation flared across his face. He wondered what just happened. As the heat intensified, he realized too late he had been tagged. From beneath the assassins, fingernails, microscopic needles glinted in the light. The venom was already courarssing through his veins. The grotesqually grinning man boasted of his ability, a dark art that allowed him to synthesize dozens of lethal toxins from his own biology. It was a hassle to manage but effective. He bragged that if he truly wanted to, he could unleash a plague cloud over a 5 km radius, wiping out everything. But destroying the city wasn't part of the plan. This specific poison was designed to incapacitate the boy in 60 seconds flat. However, if Manado pledged loyalty to the organization right now, the freak would hand over the antidote. Refuse and he would collapse while a toxic gas erased the neighborhood. This man was a genuine S-rank calamity. For a civilian, his presence alone was a death sentence. Manado glanced at the spreading purple discoloration, and deep within his consciousness, he called out to Valentina, the divine goddess of medicine. He asked if she was awake within his soul, apologizing for the trouble and requested she teach him the detoxification method immediately. A timid voice whispered back, "Yes." The assassin demanded to know what the hell Manato was, mumbling about assuming the fear of death had driven the boy insane. He launched another offensive, but Manado weaved through the attacks with supernatural ease. That Iikido stance belonged to the god of Huma. As expected, the founder realized the boy had copied the divine technique after seeing it only once. The samurai, the lancer, and the archer from a very early age. Manado had devoured their scrolls, memorizing every kata and philosophy. The spirits of the founders he had always worshiped now fueled his every movement. The assassin was baffled. The boy's rhythm had completely changed. Manado stated calmly that he had no reason to fear, a circus clown. Enraged, the poisoner roared, promising to teach the brat the true definition of agony. He unleashed a new toxin, one guaranteed to make the kid beg for death. The corrosive spray missed the boy, but the poison struck a nearby tree, causing it to wither and rot in seconds. The slow-witted villain taunted that if Manado knelt now, he might spare him the worst of the symptoms. Otherwise, the pain would be enough to shatter his mind. The assassin pressed the attack, closing the distance, and one strike came dangerously close. Manado reacted instantly, dodging and countering with the fist of the sink. The freak coughed up a fountain of blood and tomato juice from his disgusting m. Inside Manato's mind, a founder nodded in approval of the form. The assassin was blasted against a concrete pillar. Before his brain could process the impact, he was intercepted by a devastating kick to the face. Illuminated feet. Another legendary technique inherited from the founders. The weirdo tried to steady himself, barely avoiding being launched into orbit, but his stamina was draining fast. He screamed in desperation, flailing wildly to land a hit. But Manado had already prepared a counter. With a precise chop of his hand, he shattered. The assassin's fingernails snapping the poison needles instantly. The combo continued. A palm strike landing squarely on the losers chest. Sharp beak. A technique of the Aven masters. Dragon's claw. Yet another move pulled from the library of the claw founders. Grabbing the clown's battered body, Manado executed a gravitydeying takedown, slamming the fool into the air before driving him into the ground. As he fell, the assassin could only think that this boy was a complete anomaly. It defied all logic. If a human is exposed to that venom, even once their judgment should be clouded, their mind broken. The neurotoxin should have already shut down his central nervous system. His movements should be sluggish. And yet this monster was meanwhile golden mana coalesed at the tip of Manado's finger. He was channeling the legendary truth mage technique. A skill stolen from another founder. The lightning bolt erupted, ascending to pierce the very heavens as the ancient masters watched in awe. The samurai could hardly believe his eyes. He witnessed the boy defeat a demon just once and instantly copy its martial arts. He had absorbed their physical techniques and even their complex magical signatures. It was pure terrifying genius. Whether his power stemmed from the mark of the void or the abyss itself didn't matter. The only truth remained. This boy was an anomaly. The founders made their decision. They would forge this diamond in the rough. Under their toutelage, Manado would become the apex awakened. But the young hero's focus was elsewhere. He cradled his mother in his trembling arms, desperate to pull her back from the darkness of unconsciousness. Shadows moved across the rooftops. Hooded figures dashed through the night. "Do not hesitate," one commanded. At least 15 rival guilds were already mobilizing. They all wanted the rookie who took down Midori. Time was of the essence. Suddenly, Midori himself materialized among them. "Surprising," he smirked. "So many vultures circling one little boy. If there are only 15 of you, consider this a mercy." The hero charged his legendary energy before the cultist could utter a prayer. The one-finger flick of death struck. The enemy collapsed instantly, incapacitated. Midori casually answered his phone. "Report," he said. His assistant's voice crackled on the line. "She had just arrived at the scene." "No active threats nearby," she confirmed. "But someone beat us to the punch." The S-rank hunter Goro, the master of poison, had tried to assassinate the boy, and he had been utterly crushed. Midori listened, a wild grin spreading across his face. He appeared beside his new student. "You continue to defy logic, kid," he laughed. You just soloed an S-class assassin. Are you intact? Did the poison touch you? Manado looked up, answering shily. I I think we're safe. My mother and I are fine," he whispered. She lay on the couch, sleeping peacefully. But the samurai cut through the moment. "You're lucky Valentina is here," he grunted. "Without her, I'd already be asking God for a refund on your life." "Behind him," the healer groaned. "I'm exhausted," she complained. "Don't be modest," the samurai retorted. You neutralized the toxins in 5 seconds flat. Since the poison maker was right there, she sighed. Extracting the antidote from his blood was child's play. Midori stepped forward, his expression serious. Sorry for the delay, kid. I had to intercept the other vultures. The viral video of their battle had painted a target on the boy's back. Minato realized the danger he was in. "That weirdo. Was he really lying about being your ally?" he asked, voice trembling. Midori nodded grimly. Scum will always use my name to gain trust. Trust no one but us. Is the cleanup complete? He asked the air. Valentina materialized nearby. Done, she stated. Manado's jaw dropped. The destroyed structure of his house had been perfectly restored. It was high tier spatial reconstruction magic. All right, Midori said, his aura flaring slightly. Invite us in. It is time to discuss your destiny. The next dawn brought a new chapter. A sleek car waited outside. Are you ready? his mother asked, fussing over him. Wallet phone charger. Mom, I'm fine. He smiled gently. You worry too much. Her mind drifted to yesterday's pact. Her son was moving into the hero's sanctuary. Midori had sworn he possessed latent potential that could shake the world. He demanded custody of the boy. He promised to mold him into the ultimate hunter. It was an offer no sane person could refuse. Manado was still in shock. The strongest man on earth had chosen him. But for a mother, this was a bittersweet farewell. Sadness welled in her eyes as she handed him a bento box. "You left without breakfast," she scolded softly. "Throw it away if you want," she mumbled, hiding her pain. "I'll eat every bite," he reassured her, gripping the bag tightly. Flashback to the negotiation. "Will he face danger?" she had asked, voice shaking. "Will he see death?" "Yes," Midori had answered without hesitation. She knew her son idolized the founders. He had fought tooth and nail for this dream. It was the highest honor to be the strongest disciple. But a mother's heart knows only fear. She knew the hunter's life was a dance with the reaper. "Monsters are merciless," she whispered. "There are no guarantees in our world," Midori replied solemnly. "But I swear this to you," the hero declared. "I will make him strong. Strong enough to rival even us founders." And so, she entrusted her heart to the hero's hands. Back in the car, the assistant broke the silence. "That was a heavy vow. We don't know what the abyss holds for him," she warned. Can you truly keep such a bold promise? Midori watched the rearview mirror. The boy waved goodbye to the fading figure of his mother. Don't sleep naked, she shouted from the distance. You'll catch a cold like last time. Manado turned beat red. He didn't even remember that happening. And separate your whites from your colors. Her domestic advice echoed in the street. Midori chuckled, his eyes stealing over. I will keep my word, he said, power resonating in his voice. No matter what hell awaits us. The goodbyes were finished. "Wish me luck, Mom," Manato whispered to the wind. "Take care, my son," she prayed. "Come home for New Year's." "Alive," the engine hummed, signaling the start of a new destiny. Manato apologized for the delay, but Midori simply asked if his spirit was prepared. The boy cast one final longing gaze toward his mother. If he lingered a second longer, his resolve to leave might shatter completely. Midori, sensing the boy's heavy heart, assured him the road ahead was long. He could eat or sleep as he pleased. His eyes fell upon the lunchbox. It was the last gift from his mother's hands. As Manado lifted the lid, a wave of nostalgia hit him a surprise that warmed his very soul. Inside lay his absolute favorite meal, accompanied by a handwritten note wishing him fortune. Gratitude swelled within him, unlocking a flood of memories. Every cherished moment shared with her flashed before his eyes. He ate in silence, tears mingling with the delicious taste of a mother's love. While the assistant navigated the road, Madori dozed peacefully in the front. Slowly, the landscape shifted as they approached the hero's sanctuary. Basuen Manado stared in awe. Madori welcomed him to the inner sanctum, a property that was not merely magnificent, but titanically vast. Access here was a privilege granted only to the elite, the absolute apex of the awakened. Only those chosen for the special unit could enter, the anti-prophecy unit. This was their fortress. The name alone carried a weight the boy could sense but not yet fully comprehend. A piercing doorbell echoed. From high within the tower, a man watched their arrival, his voice cool as he announced the new recruits presence. The team gathered buzzing with curiosity. A girl questioned the news while another confirmed that the rookie had finally stepped into the lion's den. A blonde warrior smirked, noting how rare new blood was these days. However, the atmosphere grew tense as a red-haired man voiced his doubts. He demanded to know if this rookie truly possessed the qualifications to stand beside them to bear the heavy burden of the anti-prophecy unit. Manado, confused by the title, asked if the name referred to Madori's Guild. The air grew heavy with secrets yet to be revealed. The assistant apologized for the silence. She explained that she couldn't speak freely before, not in front of a civilian, not even his mother. It was a state secret of the highest order. Hearing this, the boy's awe deepened, realizing he had stepped into a world of classified shadows. Midori promised all would be revealed in time, but first they needed to settle in. They moved to take his gear to the quarters. The assistant reached for his bag, but Manado humbly declined. Suddenly, a roar tore through the air. Someone screamed that explanations required action. A figure descended from the sky with a devastating kick. Manado reacted on instinct, blocking the blow. The blonde attacker grinned, praising his reflexes. Manado felt the weight of the strike. This opponent was powerful. Demanding an identity, he watched the blonde man perform a fluid backflip. Landing with a superhero's grace. He introduced himself as Hinata, a member of the squad. And now Manato's brother in arms. Manado prayed he wouldn't be the one giving the orientation. Madori, unfazed, simply asked for tea. While chaos erupted before him, the rookie and the veteran squared off. Manado was baffled. Why fight if they were allies, but in this world, combat was the only language. This was the initiation. To understand the meaning of antiprophecy, he had to prove his worth in blood and sweat. Manado braced himself. The blonde warrior launched a relentless assault, kicks rain down like hail, and one powerful impact sent Manato flying across the training grounds. Hinata shouted that he would teach the units history through pain. Manado wondered if this lunatic truly intended to lecture him mid battle. Amidst the flurry of blows, Hinata demanded the rookie's name. Manado shouted his introduction, dodging another strike. Madori watched calmly, sipping his tea, the leader reflected. The boy had already been tested at the academy, even surviving against an S-rank hunter. Yet the trials never ended. In this line of work, you were tested every single day. Madori glanced at his assistant, knowing she thought the same. She agreed. For a talent personally scouted by the legendary Midori, a brutal welcome like this was the only appropriate greeting. As fists flew, Hanata shouted a question. "What is the duty of a hunter?" Manado replied instantly to hunt the beasts from the rifts. "Correct!" Hanata yelled, forcing Manado to dodge a lethal kick. To the public, they were just glorified pest control exterminators. But what lies beyond that? Hanata pressed, his eyes gleaming. He demanded the boy look past the surface level of their existence. Manado hesitated, his mind racing. Hinata's voice dropped an octave. There were threats in this world far deadlier than simple dimensional beasts. The pandemonium of 10 years ago, the great outbreak of 5 years passed. The boy argued those were just massive rift escapes. A strike nearly took Manato's head off as he barely guarded. That is what themmies teach. Hanata roared. That is the lie the public swallows. The truth was far more terrifying. Hanata unleashed a kick that shattered a nearby tree as if it were made of glass, emphasizing his point. Those catastrophes were not accidents. They were calculated invasions from other dimensions. Intentional acts of war. They were events of the same apocalyptic nature as the tower that manifested 300 years ago. A state of absolute emergency. Manado listened, stunned, as he realized the world had already faced two tower level extinction events without even knowing it. The invasion isn't over. Hanata warned his killing intent spiking. An entity from another dimension was targeting their world with malice. Hanata revealed a grim reality. The awakened were growing weaker with each generation compared to the founding legends. There were barely any warriors left who could match the power of the ancestors. Manado asked the obvious question. Then what do we do? That is why we exist. Hanata declared. They were the shield against the dark future. The ones who would predict and stop the apocalypse. These calamities are secrets whispered only to the elite guardians capable of facing them. They are the anti-prophecy squad, an organization forged in shadows to defy the very will of fate itself. Manado finally grasps the weight of their mission. From this day forth, the rookie is one of them. After all, he accomplished the impossible by blocking the blonde captain's lightning fast kicks. He was the first in history to react in time. With a gesture of formal acceptance, the captain extends a hand. Welcome to the team, Manado. Manado grips it firmly, gratitude shining in his eyes as Mador applauds in the background. The captain announces to the squad that the rookie is officially family. Suddenly, a chilling pressure descends. A mysterious group materializes on the rooftop above, their silhouettes looming against the sky. But in the blink of an eye, they vanish into thin air. Mador narrows his eyes. That theatrical exit, definitely the mark of a villain, the captain smirks. It seems they wanted to size us up with their own eyes. He tells Mador to step back and leave the rest to him. With a nod of absolute trust, Mador leaves the rookie in the captain's capable hands. "It is time to settle in. "Let me grab your gear," the captain insists. Manato thanks him, surprised by the kindness, and together they step into the imposing mansion that will now be his home. Night descends, draping the world in shadows. Alone in his new quarters, Manado reflects on the anti-prophecy squad. He wonders about the founders. Did they face apocalyptic crises like this? Surely, such calamities must have been prophesied long ago. Is he truly ready to fight against destiny itself? The sheer scale of the battle sends a shiver of anxiety down his spine. Suddenly, a spectral presence fills the room. The samurai spirit manifests. I can handle your training, he declares. The ancient founders are watching from the void. The samurai apologizes for his silence. Manado flinches, still believing their grand plan was to hijack his body for their own rebirth. Attempting suggestion, the spirit muses. We are indeed in a war for survival. His words strike fear into the boy's heart. That was how it started, the samurai admits. However, after observing Monado's potential, the ancient masters change their verdict. Possessing him would be a waste. Instead, forging him into the ultimate warrior would be far more entertaining for them. They recall his battle against the poison user. The boy had mimicked secret arts after seeing them only once. True, he lacked the raw power of the original masters, but he had instantly grasped the essence of every technique he witnessed. Do you have any idea? The samurai asks, how terrifying that accomplishment is? Perhaps it is the curse of the void mark on his hand. But the boy's true weapon is his monstrous learning speed, a talent so rare it surpasses even the legendary founders themselves. As the samurai speaks, the weight of those words hits Manato. Tears begin to stream down his face, hot and uncontrollable. He remembers the past. The cold eyes of the test supervisors. No matter how much blood and sweat he spilled, the verdict was always the same. You have zero talent. Until now, no one expected anything from him. His life was a waking nightmare. Treated like absolute trash by the elite. Three times he failed the exam. Three times he became the laughingstock. Despite his unbreakable will, the world screamed at him to give up. Even in that humiliating documentary, he was portrayed as a nobody. A background character with no future in this world of awakes. Yet here he stands. His talents finally recognized by the ghosts of legends. A samurai spirit just declared. He has the potential to become a god among men. To be told he could be the strongest to ever live. It is too much. The emotions crash over him like a tidal wave. He weeps, unable to comprehend this feeling. Is it truly allowed for someone like him to feel this burst of pure happiness? The heroes he worshiped in story books now place their hopes on his shoulders. It is a dream come true. Seeing his tears, the samurai offers comfort. Our souls reside within you. He explains the power of the inner space. While he sleeps, his mind will enter their domain. Unbound by physics, they will grant him the equivalent of 100 hours of training every single night. By day, he will hone his body with the squad to defy the prophecy. But when night falls and his eyes close, the real hell begins with the founders. We will not allow you a moment of peaceful rest. It sounds like torture. However, looking at the boy's eyes, his resolve is already made of steel. He does not hesitate. Yes, he declares. I am counting on you to make me strong. The moon climbs high. Witnessing the birth of a legend, the sun rises on a new day. The blonde captain hums a funky tune. Unaware of the shift, Manado approaches. The captain spots him and flashes a relaxed smile. Morning rookie. You still look half asleep, the captain teases. Manado nods, rubbing his eyes. I'm still getting used to everything. We've all been there. The captain laughs. But then he freezes. The air around Manado has changed. A dense, invisible pressure radiates from the boy. Instinct takes over. The captain launches a high-speed kick at Monado's head, but with a bored expression, the boy tilts his head, dodging it effortlessly. Manado keeps walking as if swatting a fly. Please don't do that while I'm groggy, he yawns. I'm heading to the cafeteria. The captain stands there dumbfounded. Yesterday, he held back, but today that kick was lethal, and the rookie treated it like a joke. Morning light flooded the cafeteria as Monado finished his meal with a grateful sigh. But peace is short-lived. Blondie approached with a knowing grin. He pointed toward a specific table, a seat of power. A young woman sat there, devouring a mountain of fruit with intense focus. Blondie signaled the move. We sit with her. Already seated, he gestured for Monado to join the elite table. The boy realized with a start this was the comrade from yesterday. She was the one introduced during the briefing, but her eyes were cold. She sneered, addressing him only as rookie. "You finally showed up," she scoffed. Manato sensed the hostility radiating from her. He tried to be polite, offering a humble greeting and his name, but before the words could leave his lips, she cut him off. "I don't care," she declared isoly. "I have no intention of wasting memory space on your name." She pointed a finger sharp as a blade. "I will only call you by name when you prove your worth." Today was the beginning of his hell training. His mission to stop a prophecy. To understand the stakes, one must look back. 1945, Antarctica. 3,000 meters beneath the eternal ice. An explorer found an artifact that defied logic. He barely comprehended the power he held. The book of ruin. The cover bore childish scribbles, but the contents were a nightmare. Inside it foretold every calamity destined to crush humanity. And the terrifying part, the world leaders decided to believe every word. Inside the mission vehicle, the heavy questions began. Why trust a book of scribbles? Manado asked. He tried to ask the girl's name again, but she shut him down instantly. I am not obliged to answer you. Just focus on the mission, rookie, Manado guessed. Is it because the prophecies came true? She looked at him like he was an idiot. Are you stupid? If any of those final prophecies came true, she said darkly, humanity would already be extinct. Manado froze the realization, hitting him like a truck. How many prophecies are in there? The boy asked, his voice trembling. Around 200, Blondie answered casually. Shock froze Manato's blood. Then isn't the world doomed. The veteran smiled. We have successfully shattered nearly 180 of those dark futures. Manado was stunned by their hidden war, but he returned to the core mystery. Why did humanity believe the book in the first place? The girl finally decided to reveal the truth. The explorer's name was Bernard Russell, and the book knew him. The moment he opened that cursed tome, the first page spoke back. It didn't just contain text. It contained a greeting. It addressed him by name. It stated the exact date, the time, and the precise moment he would find it. It was destiny written in ink. Downtown Tokyo. A dimensional rift tore the sky open. Local guards tried to block the girl's path. "It's too dangerous." But in the blink of an eye, the trio had already bypassed the blockade. Manato looked back nervously. "Is this really okay?" Blondie just smirked. "Keep moving." As they walked, the girl listed the horrors World War II, global pandemics, the corruption of the moon, floating forests in the sky. These weren't just disasters. They were apocalypse scenarios. Just like the pandemonium avoided by the Manory Incident. Though the Book of Ruin had few pages, they knew other prophecies were scattered across the globe. To hunt them down, the anti-prophecy division was born. Threats were ranked by devastation, beginning with the eraser of a region and ending with the total annihilation of the world. And we are the shield," Manato asked. "We are the only shield," she confirmed. Ahead, a guard spotted them. "Someone is approaching." The three of them crossed the barrier tape without hesitation. A bystander muttered, "Are those civilians?" The local hero Kisaragi stepped forward. "This area is a death zone. Leave immediately." But the girl remained ice cold. According to the data, she said, "Boring." "This is merely a rank three prophecy. A simple class B dimensional rift." She was wrong. The atmosphere screamed as the rift tore open. It wasn't a class B. The energy spiked to critical levels. Crimson Mana pulsed violently. The crack in reality expanded, defying physics. Kisuragi watched in horror as the phenomenon escalated. This wasn't a small fry. Enormous beasts poured out of the abyss like a flood. Rank A, monsters or higher. Kisuragi stood paralyzed for a second before roaring. Prepare for battle. He launched a strike, but the power gap was absolute. It was a massacre. His subordinates were devoured in seconds. Rank B hunters were nothing but snacks to these abominations. The pressure was suffocating. An aura comparable to a dungeon boss despair began to set in. While Kisaragi struggled to hold back the tide of death, he noticed the girl. She approached the monsters calm. Unbothered, the trio stood amidst the chaos as if taking a stroll. Kisaragi reached out desperate. Civilians, get away. You'll die. But the girl ignored him. She began her Arya. Magic rippled from her hand like liquid light, reacting to the very air. Space distorted. Countless spears materialized from the void, hovering around her like obedient soldiers. The monsters lunged for the kill, but they were obliterated. The spears swept the battlefield in a storm of destruction. Then Blondie moved. Golden aura wrapped around his legs. He didn't run. He glided across the ground, his kicks striking the beasts with the force of a cannon. Kisuragi stared trembling. Who? Who are you people? The girl scoffed. Get out of here. In this battle times, you times are the civilian. Kisuragi finally saw it. The government emblem on their coats. They were the elite. But the nightmare wasn't over. Giant hands pried the rift open from within. The girl in Blondie froze. Something far beyond rank S was descending to Earth. He sensed the danger instantly and warned them to hold their ground. Don't attack without a plan. But his words were lost in the rush of battle. Blondie launched a flurry of kicks, but they bounced off the monster's iron-like hide. Their weapons bent uselessly against the creature. It possessed perfect defense. Suddenly, the brute shifted its gaze, charging straight for the mage. She tried to conjure a shield panic, widening her eyes as death approached. But before the blow could land, a shadow flickered. Manado was already there. He caught the beast's charge with a single hand, stopping the momentum dead. The monster strained against him, but he stood immovable like a mountain. Then the air warped around his palm. With a sudden surge of force, the beast didn't just fall. It was obliterated from the inside out in a massive crimson explosion. The silence that followed was deafening. The girl stared in shock and Blondie was absolutely dumbfounded. He realized the terrifying truth. The impact had bypassed the outer shell completely. His suspicion was correct. Manado had defeated a high defense monster with a single blow. The rookie had undergone a monstrous evolution in just one night. The girl stammered trying to save face. You didn't need to step in. But Manado ignored the noise, analyzing his hand. Using key to penetrate physical resistance was devastatingly effective. A technique he had inherited from one tac, the saint of fists. He had mastered it within the dream realm. The ultimate counter penetration force. It was the most basic yet the most lethal of arts. Turning his back on the carnage, Manado looked at the girl. I saved your life. The least you can do is give me a name. She flushed, finally lowering her guard. It's Shaniah. Meanwhile, Blondie vented his frustration on the remaining mobs. His kicks shattered skulls while Shaniah joined the fry. Hermon spears danced through the air, piercing the monsters relentlessly. "You were right," Blondie admitted, panting. "Destroying them from the inside is the only way." With the path clear, Shaniah looked at the rookie with new respect. "We're going in to the rift." A bystander trembled nearby. "That's madness. Going inside is pure suicide." But Manado grinned the thrill of the hunt rising. "I'm in." They leaped into the abyss as if it were a mere playground. The witness fell to his knees in disbelief. Monsters, he whispered. "They must be from that guild. Only they possess such power." Inside the dungeon, a horde of beasts roared, rushing to meet their doom. "Small fry Shaniah" scoffed. "These are the same trash from outside. They cut through the enemy lines like a hot knife through butter." Manado observed his team. "Shaniah is a powerhouse," he noted. Blondie nodded. She has the best area of effect damage out of all of us. Suddenly, an elite monster blocked their path. Mine Blondie shouted, already blurring into motion. He dodged the creature's swipe with effortless grace. He defied gravity, striking from the ceiling in a lethal descent. "Not bad," Manato murmured, watching the choreography. But before Blondie could land the final hit, Manado was there, moving like a phantom, he mirrored the attack perfectly. "Two strikes, one rhythm." Blondie looked at him eyes wide. Did you just copy my move? They pressed forward deeper into the dark. The mob density was dropping to zero. We're close, Shaniah whispered. They stepped into a colossal hall. Instinctively, all three looked up. A shadow loomed over them, radiating pure malice. Gravity seemed to double as a massive figure crashed down. It was the one they sought, the Minotaur. Its roar shook the very foundations of the rift. This was a calamity beyond rank S. The dungeon boss had awakened. Shaniah didn't hesitate. Mana flared around her like a raging storm. "Cover me," she screamed. The earth split as jagged spears of ice and energy erupted. They surged toward the giant like a tidal wave. "Rule number one," she grit her teeth. "Unleash your ultimate immediately. Don't give it room to breathe. I'm dumping my entire monopool into this strike. You two deliver the killing blow when it falls." "He must be nice to be a walking nuke." Blondie smirked, preparing his stance. Manato watched, analyzing the sheer density of her magic. It was a magnificent display of destruction, but a cold feeling settled in Manado's gut. It wasn't enough. Blondie noticed Manato's lack of movement. "What? You got a problem with her plan?" Shaniah glared at the rookie, but their confidence shattered in an instant. The smoke cleared and the nightmare was revealed. The attack had failed. A shock wave blasted them back as the ceiling groaned and collapsed. Shaniah's eyes trembled, unable to process the scene. The Minotaur stood there, brushing off the debris like dust. Not a single scratch on its body. Absolute despair. As the team froze, a spectral presence awakened within Manado. It was Kilik, the ancient master spirit. Impressive technique, the spirit mused, observing the girl. But raw power alone cannot fell a mountain. He watched her desperation with a cold, analytical gaze. A pity. She thinks a head-on collision will work against a god. She miscalculated her level against this beast. a fatal error on the battlefield. Its physical resilience is a staggering 100% making it a walking fortress. Blondie panics, realizing their physical attacks are bouncing off like pebbles. But suddenly, Manado surrenders control to the ancient alchemist residing within his soul. He offers his body as a vessel, preparing to show this arrogant girl what true magic looks like. As he casts, Akane is stunned to see him wielding an ability that mirrors her own. She screams that physical strikes are useless, but the alchemist simply calls her a fool. You have much to learn, child. Observe how I manipulate the three states of matter. He doesn't strike the skin. He boils the fluids inside the Minotaur, triggering massive internal damage. The heatwave is so intense that Blondie and Aane have to shield themselves from the thermal blast. The spirit smirks, seeing potential in Aane, deciding right then to make her his disciple. The Minotaur collapses, cooked from the inside out. The dungeon boss has fallen. As the monster's giant ax dissolves into mana, silence falls over the party. Aane stares, her worldview shattered. Awakened ones are bound by their marks. Manado shouldn't possess magic yet. He just performed a miracle before her eyes. The boy reaches out a hand, demanding she acknowledge his strength from this day forward. She hesitates, pride, stinging, but finally grips his hand, sealing their new dynamic. Outside, the dimensional instability begins to fade as the rift shrinks. The mesmerizing energy swirls, and Manado is the first to step back into reality. Bystanders gasp, unable to believe this rookie team survived the abyssal depths. As the portal seals shut behind them, the immediate danger has finally passed. The guard captain rushes forward, bowing low in gratitude for saving his squad. Akane steps in handling the politics. She advises them to keep the details vague in the report. Just mention the guild emblem and the bureaucracy will handle the rest. She warns the guard to return to his peaceful life for their worlds are too different. As twilight descends, a strange, eerie atmosphere begins to creep over the village. Back at headquarters, the adrenaline fades, but the paperwork remains. Blondie announces a summon to the lab, and Akane feels a headache coming on. They enter the office only to find the arrogant redhead Shu waiting with the director. Shu scoffs, mocking them for taking so long to clear a mere level three disaster. Tensions flare instantly. Akane snaps back, reminding him he isn't their commander. Blondie plays Peacemaker, asking director Kirihara why they've been summoned. The director activates a display showing a glowing ember recovered by the analysis team. It is a prophecy grimoire discovered within the scorched remains of a volcanic zone. Manado notes it's too damaged to read, but the director smiles, revealing modern technologies power. Using spectral analysis, they deciphered a fragment, and the text is ominous. A specific prophecy points directly to a catastrophe looming over Japan. Manado asks if this is rare, and Blondie confirms he has never seen such a dark omen. The intelligence department is baffled. A new type of prophecy has entered the game. Shu looks at the team, realizing this investigation requires the elite squad. Usually, high-rank hunters would handle this, but the main force is currently absent. The director assigns the mission to them immediately. There is no time to rest. Manado sigh at the workload, but Blondie assures him this is the life of a hero. Shu accepts the order on behalf of his subordinates, causing Akane to bristle with rage. The director's voice turns grave. The danger level is unknown, and they are on their own. He couldn't shake the ominous feeling about this unranked mission. Sue, the veteran, advised them to recover their stamina since they were fresh from battle. Ain insisted Hermana was full and refused to sleep, but Manado knew better. He wasn't too proud to accept the chance to recharge his core. The blonde fighter nodded in agreement, shocking everyone. Ain struggled to keep her eyes open, but exhaustion was an enemy no hunter could defeat forever. Darkness claimed them all until a sharp voice pierced Ain's dreams. She jolted awake, disoriented. She turned to Manado, demanding to know why he hadn't roused her sooner. But Manato didn't answer. His gaze was locked on the horror ahead. With a grim expression, he simply pointed, urging her to witness the nightmare herself. Peering past him, her blood ran cold. The entire dungeon had transformed. The blonde fighter's voice trembled as he assessed the catastrophic shift. "It's worse than we thought," he whispered. Inside the glowing crystals, ancient skeletons awaited command. The doomsday prophecy was no longer a myth. It was manifesting. Ain's eyes widened as she recognized the layout, a massive ritual circle. Those pillars, they're the missing residence. Sue's face darkened with a chilling realization. It's just like the Wakama mansion tragedy, he growled. That time, a dimensional rift nearly tore our world apart. We are standing on the brink of hell. Suddenly, a crystal pulsed with blinding malevolent light. The blonde fighter sensed the mana spike and Aan screamed, "We have to move now. What's the plan?" the blonde shouted over the rising hum. Sue drew his weapon. We contain it. We have no choice. But Aan hesitated. That defies the director's direct orders, she argued. We need the main assault force. Her words were cut short as a bolt of lightning annihilated the silence behind them. The shockwave nearly knocked them flat. There stood Manado wreathed in crackling energy like a storm god. He looked at his team eyes glowing. Are you ready to hunt? A in. And the blonde gasped. His mana pressure was suffocating far stronger than it was just this morning. Sue smirked, gripping his hilt. Looks like the rookie won't be dead weight after all. Manado strode forward, commanding the squad to follow. A scoffed at his newfound arrogance. Don't get cocky just because you powered up. Watch your step. They reached the first pulsing crystal. An eerie voice echoed one of the founders. Ah, this scent. How nostalgic. The samurai spirit within agreed. Indeed. The stench of ancient blood. We bathed in this scent on countless battlefields. The spirit mused. Suddenly, under the pale artificial moonlight, the earth cracked open. Something was rising. A corpse pale hand burst from the soil, grasping at the air. The samurai's voice turned grave. I know this foul magic. It is a forbidden art from the dark era. The king of dark mages, a monster who slaughtered thousands during the age of peace, bathing the world in terror. He was finally struck down by the heroes, but at a terrible cost. An entire village was erased from the map. In that chaos, Schwimo lay dying, his body broken. As his life force faded, he spat a final curse at the heavens. He would not end there. He swore to return in a millennium to claim his throne. I shall rise again, he vowed. I will devour this world and reign as the true demon king Shuimo died. But his malice remained etched into the earth. He left behind a parasitic magic circle waiting to drain the living to fuel his return. And now this squad had walked right into the heart of that investigation. Scorching heat blasted the area. Schweimo lived. His threat level was catastrophic. Yet the ancient mage scowlled. Is this it? I have resurrected with merely a fraction of my power. The sacrifices had been insufficient. He surveyed the surroundings. 1,000 years have passed, yet this wretched place remains unchanged. His eyes locked onto the hunters. A twisted smile formed. No matter. Fresh sacrifices have delivered themselves to me. He raised a hand, unleashing a wave of repulsion magic. Crimson flames erupted like a volcano. Manado flashed away, dodging the inferno. But panic gripped him. The others. We're alive. The blonde roared from the smoke. Manado's eyes widened. Don't get comfortable. Look at your feet. They looked down in horror. A glowing summoning circle was already spinning beneath the tank's boots. The trap snapped shut instantly. Before they could react, dark chains erupted, binding both the blonde fighter and Ain in an inescapable prison of magic. Immobilized, they were sitting ducks against a legendary monster, scoffed, turning just in time to sidestep a lethal strike from Manado. The boy was a blur of violence, striking again and again. But the ancient mage flowed like water. Not bad, Schwimo taunted, dodging a blade by a millimeter. But your technique is that of a child, he lured Manado right where he wanted him. A glyph illuminated beneath the boy's feet, and an instant later, a cataclysmic explosion swallowed him whole. Schwima waited for the ashes to fall, but his eyes widened. The boy was gone, high above Manado plummeted like a meteor weapon raised for the kill. A bolt of golden lightning crashed down with him, a strike meant to cleave mountains. Yet with a bored expression, Schuimo stopped the calamity with a single finger. Manado froze, staring at the absolute gap in their strength. "Impressive power," the mage admitted. But he hadn't noticed the shadow looming behind him. Sue was ready to strike. The veteran swordsman unleashed his signature art in a flash. A dozen blades of pure energy materialized, encircling the demon king's throat, millimeters from decapitation. Daisu commanded the blades to close, but the monster just smiled. In a blink, he was gone, reappearing behind Sue. A hair's breath closer, he mocked. Sue grit his teeth. He knew it wouldn't be that easy. That strike was merely a distraction. Without hesitation, Sue reversed his grip and drove his blade deep into the bedrock, channeling every ounce of his aura. Crimson light gazered from the cracks. Schweimo looked up, amused. "Oh, an updraft of energy. It looks like a rain of blood is coming." Countless light swords manifested from the energy. "I've always detested swordsmen," the mage spat, his aura flaring as he rushed towards Sue to end him. "Impact." A bare-handed strike shattered Su<unk>s defense, sending him skidding back. Yu Schuo declared, "Are the only warrior worth killing in this pathetic group," Manato watched from the distance, trembling. The enemy's mana wasn't just strong. It was an ocean. This monster rivaled the guild masters, perhaps even the founders themselves. Fear paralyzed him. What could he do against a god, but then a shout broke his trance? The blonde tank and Ain had shattered their magical bindings. They charged back into the fray, screaming for Manado to coordinate. Mo glanced at them with irritation. "Insects!" he sneered. "Know your place and stay down." He flicked his wrist, sending a wave of annihilation toward the support team. The air screamed as death approached them while Sue struggled to find an opening amidst the chaos. The battlefield erupted in chaos. Shiima had summoned his vile beasts from the void. Anne and the blonde unleashed a storm of attacks, but their blades barely scratched the surface. These monsters possess the impenetrable hide of a minotaur. One of the beasts lunged for Manado its killing intent spiking. The boy inhaled deeply, centering his key for a counter strike. Mana surged through his veins, ready to explode. Meanwhile, Shajima mocked Shu with a twisted grin. "No one is coming to save you," he sneered. Shu scoffed at the provocation, his blade carving through the air in a lethal arc. "I don't need a savior," he spat. He recalled, warning Shinji to stay back. In this cruel world, the only thing he could trust was his own strength. Xiima's laughter echoed like a curse. Precisely. A true predator needs no pack to devour the world. A terrifying pressure exploded from the villain, forcing Shu onto the defensive. He had to be faster or he would die here. Suddenly, a voice pierced the battlefield. It was Manado charging forward with his fist glowing like a miniature sun. Shijima's eyes widened in confusion. How are you here? What happened to my demonic legion? But the answer came in the form of a devastating punch. The impact sent Shijima flying, crashing violently into the distance. He was tossed aside like a ragd doll. Even Shu couldn't hide his surprise. "Fighting a monster like that alone is suicide," Manato declared. But Shijima only rose his blood lust rising with every second. "Let's finish this together," Manato urged. Shu was stunned. "While the others were still struggling, Manato had already annihilated his opponent. Who was this guy? How could he wield such power so effortlessly? Yet Shu<unk>s pride would not allow it." Stay out of my way, he barked. I don't need a crutch to win this battle. I will cut him down myself. Suddenly, Shajima materialized before them, nodding in agreement. Yes, solitude makes the kill so much sweeter. The villain purred. Shu didn't hesitate, his blade flashing and severing Shiima's hand in an instant. The counterattack went wild. Shu evaded with feline grace, but Manata was right in the line of fire. Shiima's flesh knit back together in seconds, a horrifying display of regeneration. He pressed the assault, forcing Shu to parry for his life. Meanwhile, Manado slammed into a massive tree, snapping the trunk like a twig. His arms smoked from the impact. Pain surged through him as his consciousness slipped away. He awoke in the spiritual realm, standing before the ancient founders. "You blacked out, boy," they inoned. Manato tried to speak, but his spiritual form flickered with damage. "I have to go back," he insisted, struggling to his feet. But the samurai blocked his path, his expression stern. "Step aside, child. This enemy is beyond you." Manato couldn't accept that. Back in reality, Shu and Shajima were locked in a dance of death. You and I are the same, the villain taunted. Shu gritted his teeth, realizing his blade could no longer pierce the enemy's aura. We don't need the weak, do we? Shima laughed. I will consume this entire world. Shu launched a desperate strike, but steel met immovable power. The tip of his blade shattered on impact. His weapon was broken. Adrenaline spiked as he switched the damaged sword to his left hand. He struck again, but Shijima dodged with insulting ease. Is that all? Entertain me more, little swordsman. In the mind realm, the samurai pointed to the vision. Look closely. That swordsman is elite, yet he is helpless against this monster. This enemy is leagues above your current level, another founder warned. His spiritual pressure is immense. If this city were more populated, his resurrection would have been god tier, and if he consumes the life force here, the catastrophe will be unstoppable. It was the unclassified calamity predicted in the ancient grimmooire. Hand over your body, Manado, the samurai commanded. Let us handle this. But the boy's eyes burned with defiance. "No, the founders recoiled in shock." "This isn't a sparring match," Manato declared. "If I don't overcome this wall now, I never will. I need to forge my own strength," he shouted. The mage looked concerned, but the atmosphere shifted. Suddenly, the samurai burst into roaring laughter. "He loved the boy's guts." "You truly intend to surpass us all, don't you?" "Very well, go then. Show us your way of the warrior." Manato turned his spirit blazing as he returned to reality. He paused for a heartbeat, looking back at his masters. "Watch closely," he whispered. Then he launched himself back into the fray. The founders watched with pride as his consciousness faded. Back on the battlefield, Shajima loomed over Shu. Is this the limit of your power? The villain unleashed a torrent of violence. Shu leaped high to escape, but it was a trap. In the air, there is nowhere to run. "It ends here," Shimima roared. Shu<unk>s heart sank. He was defenseless and cornered. "Is this how I die?" he thought. Suddenly, a hand snatched the falling blade from the air. I'll be borrowing this. Manado announced. Shu<unk>s eyes widened in disbelief. The newcomer had returned. Shu twisted in midair, landing gracefully as Manato charged forward. Power surged around Manato, an ultimate technique ready to be unleashed. He drove the blade toward Shajima with the force of a hurricane. Adopting the one-handed stance of an ancient samurai, he executes a flawless strike against Shajima's assault. The impact triggers a blinding flash. In an instant, one of the threats hands is severed from his body. The enemy is intrigued by such lethal skill and demands the boy's identity. Manado stands tall, declaring he will be the one to transcend the founders themselves. Watching this unfold, the samurai turns to the mage. He seeks her insight on this impossible development. She replies that their role is over. Now they can only witness the boy's destiny unfold. The samurai notes that Monado is far from reckless. He suspects the boy unlocked a new enlightenment while seemingly asleep. Or perhaps he grasped a truth that lies even beyond their understanding. Manado overwhelms the threat, unleashing a torrent of sword arts. Sue watches in awe as Manato gives no quarter. Shima feels a chill of apprehension as his remaining hand begins to crumble under the strain. The enemy's regeneration is failing. Su remembers when Manado offered an alliance and he foolishly refused. Now the gap in their power leaves him shaken. Shajima is visibly unsettled by this pressure. Manado slashes again, but Shajima evades just in time. Unknown to the boy, lethal energy orbs manifest in the shadows. The trap is sprung. Shajima launches every orb at once. Manado evades the initial barrage with ease, moving like the wind, but his eyes widen. The orbs are tracking his soul. He tries to dodge again, but they hunt him relentlessly. Realizing he cannot simply run, he gathers his resolve. He decides to confront the massive energy headon and leaps into the sky, deliberately taking the battle aerial. One of the founders watches with pride, recalling the grueling hours spent drilling the basics into the boy. But Manado's stance has evolved. He channels force into the earth, ripping a chunk of the terrain upward to serve his will. He creates an improvised stone shield to intercept the bombardment. Shima scowls, seeing his attack neutralized. He attempts to curve the remaining orbs around the barrier, but Manado's battle instincts are sharp. He anticipates the trajectory and prepares his defense. Deafening explosions tear through the air. A massive curtain of dust rises, obscuring the battlefield. Shiima peers into the haze, confused. But as the smoke clears, Manado stands completely unharmed. The boy recalls another lesson from the founders, turning debris into opportunity. He uses the floating stones as footholds, propelling himself through the air. In a blink, he appears behind Shiima's blind spot. The sword swings with lethal intent. It would have been a decapitation had Shajima not dodged by a hair's breath, losing only skin from his cheek. Shiima is stunned. This boy is no ordinary fighter. He is an irregular. Enraged, the entity summons a colossal magic circle directly beneath Manado's feet. A catastrophic explosion erupts. Manado is swallowed by the inferno, but his will refuses to burn. He manages to deploy a shield. He uses aerial debris for stability. Stick to the basics, he reminds himself, pushing every skill he was taught to its absolute limit. He bursts through the smoke, charging straight for Shajima. He moves like a phantom, closing the distance in a heartbeat. Shajima tries to defend, but fresh wounds open on his body with every pass. The enemy realizes the boy has versatile strengths, yet none seem fatal alone. What baffles him is the sheer variety of distinct abilities this human possesses. The samurai and mage watch in disbelief as Monado flows seamlessly between martial arts and magic. It is a symphony of violence. He is evolving in real time, perfecting his craft at a terrifying pace. It is magnificent yet both the boy and Shiima sense something is still lacking. Shijima decides to end this play. He unleashes his forbidden technique. The founders freeze in horror as the girl barely dodges the shockwave. A shadow falls over the battlefield. Looking up, they witness a nightmare. A gigantic grotesque skeleton descending from the heavens. Shajima has lost all patience. He intends to crush this insect instantly. He is ready to bring this clash to a violent conclusion. The skeletal titan raises a hand to obliterate Monado. The samurai screams for Manado to flee. Fearing the boy faces certain death, but Manado stands his ground. He realizes that mere skill is not enough. His current output cannot breach this darkness. Even his best is insufficient. He needs to ascend. Memories of the mage's lessons flood his mind. Step by step, master the origin before the spell. She taught him the essence of creating fire. Then the samurai's voice echoes. Discard fear. Abandon hesitation. When you strike, your entire existence must focus on severing the enemy's life force. The teachings converge in his mind. He grips his blade with one hand, channeling searing heat with his mind. He visualizes a single absolute slash. Flames erupt around him as Manato assumes the ultimate offensive stance. The spectators tremble. This power defies logic. From the fusion of magic and steel, a new legend is born, the blazing blade. He swings and the giant skeleton is cleaved in two from crown to chin. The strike does not stop there. Shima is caught in the devastation. Manado stands amidst the embers, gazing calmly at his handiwork. The samurai whispers his philosophy. To me, life is but a thread, and my sword exists to sever that thread. Manata recalls being asked how he perceives existence. In that moment of impact, he saw his enemy's life not as a thread, but as a torch, a foul, corrupted flame choking on its own soot. Water would not suffice to extinguish such evil. No, he needed to consume it with a greater inferno. He would drown the darkness in absolute fire. That was the resolve behind his strike. The blazing blade annihilated everything in its path. Shujima stares into the abyss, unable to comprehend his own defeat. The sword saint stood in awe. The boy had achieved the impossible, fusing two opposing forces to forge a new path. He had perfectly harmonized raw mana with the way of the blade. The alchemist materialized from the void, declaring it magnificent. This child is an irregular, a genius capable of wielding every technique. He thought it was mere luck, but now he sees the truth. The boy's potential transcends simple fusion. As the master smiles, the sword saint catches that peculiar glint in his eye. If the alchemist's assessment is correct, they have vastly underestimated Monado's ceiling. She worries if it is wise for them, the founders, to continue, but the sword saint dismisses her fear. Does she not yearn to witness the ultimate conclusion, to see how high Manado can soar? Back in reality, the boy's stamina hit zero, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Suddenly, Shima's bloodpool began to boil. A new form reconstructed itself from the crimson sludge, mocking him. Manado stared, drained of all energy as the enemy sneered. That last attack was lethal. If it had struck true, Shima would have perished. He declares the game over. But before he can strike, a blade of pure silence sweeps across his neck. It was Shu. The assassin had erased his presence completely. Shu unleashes a flurry of strikes, shredding the enemy before rushing to support his crumbling leader. He catches the rookie just in time. As Shima's consciousness fades, a tragic memory surfaces from the depths of his soul. He sees himself young and desperate, comforting a fragile life. He begs the person to hold on until dawn, promising food for his starving brother. But the boy in his arms was too frail. His brother collapsed lifeless. Shima remained frozen in that hellish cold, embracing a corpse while the world ignored him. Above on the bridge, the wealthy laughed and celebrated. He couldn't comprehend why some feast while others rot. Solitude is peaceful, but loneliness is a curse. Shima's body finally disintegrates into dust. Shu assures him he isn't alone, even if the world abandons you, but his words are cut short. A terrifying rumble shakes the space behind them. The teammates are regrouping. Akan rushes over, asking if Monado still breathes. Shu confirms their leader is safe, bringing a wave of relief to the squad. The blonde fighter is glad they survived, but a greater threat looms. The dimensional barrier is destabilizing rapidly. The pocket dimension is on the verge of total collapse. Shu realizes they could be crushed into oblivion if it implodes. They need to launch a full power strike to break out, but their spirit energy is completely depleted. Do they have the strength left? Fate, however, offers no other option. Suddenly, the unconscious manado raises a trembling hand, pointing his blade toward the heavens. Shu watches in shock as the rookie channels power he shouldn't have. Inside his mind, the sword saint smiles proudly. You did well today, child. Recalling the boy's fiery determination, the master decides to handle the rest. The barrier begins to shatter. The squad desperately shields themselves as the sword saint unleashes a transcendent secret art through Monado's body. Far outside civilians watch in terror as the invisible dome implodes. They fear the worst thinking rescue arrived too late. But suddenly, a pillar of azure light pierces the sky. The overwhelming aura erupting from Manado's sword obliterates the darkness. The approaching reinforcements witness the miracle. The light of a godslaying sword, mutters Captain Makoto of the Sue Squad. He demands to know who unleashed such power. Madori observing from the jet reveals the rookie is the vessel of the prophecy. He is ecstatic. While Japan trembled before rank two threats, Makoto is witnessing power that rivals a rank one calamity. Madori laughs, calling it legendary. While the captain was away, the new generation evolved and the center of that storm, a rookie who joined only two days ago, Manado. The convener demands the boy's identity from Madori instantly. Madori's voice turns serious. That boy is the key. He is the one who will shatter every chain of fate and end the prophecies. He is the savior they have waited centuries for. Makoto warns that Midori is placing the weight of the world on a child's shoulders. Midori simply chuckles telling the captain to see for himself. Makoto asks his friend to return quickly. The battlefield is boring without him. Midori apologizes signing off. Suddenly the radio crackles. Target sighted dead ahead. A massive shadow dominates the clouds. A titan hovers in the sky. A living prophecy of destruction. The jet accelerates toward the beast as the atmosphere screams. A blue light pulses from the monster as it opens its eyes. Sensing a threat. Madori tells Makoto to wait. He has one last job to finish. The scene shifts. Manado's eyes flutter open. He wakes in a sterile room, the scent of medicine in the air. A woman beside his bed smiles gently. Welcome back to the land of the living. She explains he is in the base's infirmary. He had been in a coma since the mission ended. Manado realizes with a start that he lost consciousness and missed his training. He couldn't cultivate with the founders. The woman stands to leave, assuring him he is healed, but to call if he needs aid. As she exits, Manado notices a familiar figure. Shu sits silently in the corner. Have you been guarding me this whole time? Manado asks for the others. Shu's expression is grim. They are training. The squad was frustrated by their own powerlessness. They felt like burdens during the last battle. Witnessing the devastating power Manato unleashed lit a fire in their souls. The young warrior couldn't comprehend the gap in their power. Shu cornered him, demanding to know the truth behind Manato's identity. In just 2 days, this boy had annihilated two catastrophic threats single-handedly. The sheer versatility of his arsenal and the way he chained combos was defying logic. Shu had never witnessed anyone capable of such mastery. He burned with envy, desperate to know how Manado reached such god-like heights. But before he could even finish his desperate question, a commanding presence silenced the room. Makoto arrived, offering a cold apology for the intrusion. He stared at the bedridden fighter. "Are you Minato?" the protagonist confirmed his identity, though he didn't recognize the newcomer. Shu's eyes lit up as he called out, "Big brother," Yet Makoto walked past him like he was invisible. The disrespect stung. Shu looked crushed by the cold shoulder. Just as Manato tried to address the tension between the siblings, steel flashed. Without a word, Makoto struck with lethal intent. Shu flinched, covering his face in terror. But Makoto's blade hit only empty air. In a blink, Monado had vanished, clinging to the ceiling like a predator lying in weight. Was that a test? Manato demanded heart racing. Makoto sheathed his blade with a smirk. Correct. A standard intern would have been cut down just now. The boy had passed the initiation. Manato was baffled. He hadn't realized the trials had already begun. Makoto straightened his uniform and declared, "I am the captain of the Sue squad." Manato confirmed the blood ties with Shu, realizing he hadn't misheard. But Makoto's next words changed everything. Based on his explosive combat data, Manato was drafted immediately as a temporary operative. Shu watched in disbelief. His own brother was scouting a stranger, yet had never once invited him to the elite ranks. "The briefing starts now," Makoto ordered, turning his back. "Follow me now." Left behind, Shu clenched his fists until his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. The flames of a bitter rivalry were roaring to life within him. Meanwhile, the training hall echoed with the sounds of exhaustion. Ren and Akane clashed relentlessly, pushing their limits. Yet, the wall of stagnation remained. No matter how much they bled and sweated, progress felt impossible. Manado's shadow loomed far above them, a level they simply couldn't reach. Suddenly, a cheerful voice broke their concentration. It was Midori greeting the exhausted duo with a smile. You've been grinding hard, he praised. Fresh from Peru, I brought rugs and chocolates, he beamed. But the warriors cut him off cold. How long are you in Japan? They demanded. About a week, he replied. Train us, they pleaded instantly. They refused to be left in the dust by Manado's explosive growth. Midori blinked, stunned by their intensity. He listened to their desperate request, shocked that the protagonist's influence had ignited such a fire in them. Manato's perseverance had become a contagion. Midori beamed with pride, asking, "And what about Shinji? Will he join the grind?" Elsewhere, Manato trailed behind the formidable captain. The others hadn't expected the younger brother to be sidelined. The news that Manado was joining the elite sue squad as a temporary member sent shock waves through the group. Neither Ren nor Akane expected to hear that. Midori realized this meeting only happened because he had pulled strings for Makoto to meet the boy. Even Shu had to admit the bitter truth. He was light years away from Manado's level. "What's the summary?" Manato asked. "It's about our next operation," Makoto replied curtly. "We mobilize tomorrow." Then the captain's voice softened. "Are you close with Shinji?" My younger brother Manado hesitated. He couldn't say for sure. It had only been 2 days. But after the hell they survived together, he couldn't deny the bond. He had borrowed Shinji's sword and recovered under his watch. After a moment of reflection, he answered firmly, "Yes, we are close." Momo listened intently from the shadows. Shinji believed his brother despised him, but Makoto revealed the truth to Manado. He cared too much. He won't even look at me, Shinji had complained. I can't look at his wounds, Makoto confessed. The sight of his little brother in pain was his weakness. Shinji believed he needed strength to gain attention. But Makoto didn't want a warrior. He wanted his brother safe. Manato realized the tragedy here. Their bond was strong, but twisted by silence. Shinji wanted to surpass Monado to earn his brother's recognition. The younger wolf wanted to lead the pack while the older wolf just wanted to protect the pup. Practically speaking, Manado thought their relationship was painfully beautiful. Akane noted that Shu's motivation was entirely fueled by this unresolved brotherhood. He rarely opened up, but when asked about his brother, he always reacted defensively, claiming he respected him, yet starving for a single crumb of attention. Ren scoffed. A moving story though he understood the pain. Fueled by this silent rejection, Shinji threw himself into training with demonic focus. The Sue Squad operated on three absolute laws. Be fast, be offensive, and conquer your weakness. Among all units, they were the apex predators, revered for their battle techniques with a maximum of seven members. They were the elite of the elite. Their prey, only catastrophe class threats, level one or higher. Rumors claimed 90% of their destructive output came solely from the captain, rendering the rest mere support. Since Manado was just a temp, he was told to relax. The captain ends wars instantly, they said. He was told to pay attention and put his phone away. Manado apologized, claiming he just wanted to check in with his friends, but everyone found his casual attitude annoying. Suddenly, phones buzzed across the city. Ren and Akane checked their screens, irritation flaring at the sender's audacity. Ren was stunned. The message wasn't just a greeting. It was from Manato. Midori asked what was wrong and they showed him the screen. Manato hadn't just said hello. He had sent them a guide on how to become legendary. Mador smiled, realizing his guidance had forged steel from raw iron. Perfect advice for two souls on completely different paths. He offered them artifacts of immense power, testing their resolve. Lord Ho and I accepted the burden without hesitation. Meanwhile, Shinji<unk>s eyes burned with jealousy. I'll make you regret crossing me, he spat. But Mador laughed, correcting the fool. They were comrades now. High above a hooded observer watched the board being set. Through the glass, the omen was clear. Blue crystals bloomed like frozen flowers of death. Rank one prophecy. Frozen Earth. If this calamity spreads, the planet faces an eternal ice age. It had already struck 17 locations. We cannot allow the frost to consume us. The vice captain declared her voice sharp as ice. Their helicopter roared through the storm. This was the drop zone. Prepare for aerial insertion. The orders were absolute. No civilian casualties. Strike hard. Strike fast. Remember the code. Offense is the best defense. Crush your limits. Matado clenched his fist, recalling his past failure. He had relied on the samurai's blade too much. Today, he would forge his own legend as a temporary squad member. He swore to end this mission with his own strength, but he had no idea of the nightmare awaiting him. This mission would carve a scar of regret deep into his soul. The squad touched down on the frozen wasteland. The air was brittle enough to snap bone. A sneeze broke the silence. Is this the cold of hell? Awakened ones should shrug this off. One grumbled. The vice captain checked the readings. -37°. It was colder than any report predicted. A vast white tomb awaited their investigation. Matado turned to Kyama. Is this apocalypse written in the ancient texts? No, Kyama replied grimly. This horror was foreseen by our own oracle's vision. Prophecies were common, but a level one cataclysm. This was a calling for the elite alone, the vice captain eyed Matado. Do you fear the frost rookie? Fear keeps me sharp, he countered. It was better than arrogance. But she warned him. Do not carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. Coralama laughed. Relax. We are the best. But the vice captain's glare silenced him instantly. Complacency kills, she hissed. He bowed, apologizing, but the lecture was cut short by a pulse. Enemies inbound. His radar ability flared to life. Matato watched in awe at the sensory prowess. He could pinpoint every heartbeat in the snow. The vice captain nodded, vanishing into the white mist. Matado blinked and she was gone. A second later, she materialized. Report ready. 30 hostiles. Highranking beasts ahead. The tension in the air tightened like a noose. The captain's eyes glowed. Annihilate them. Leave nothing but ash. The command unleashed them. They surged forward like a pack of wolves hunting in the snow. The battle erupted. Matado watched the elite squad move in a symphony of violence. Their perception was godlike. Every strike was precise. Every movement calculated perfection. This was the gap between students and masters. These were the realm's true defenders. Desperate to prove his worth, Matado approached the captain. Let me join the slaughter. Theo smirked. S-rank monsters are just fodder for you, kid. Show them your power. That was the permission he needed. Matau launched himself, crushing a beast skull instantly. The impact buried the monster deep into the perafrost, but his instincts screamed a warning. "Watcher 6," the vice captain yelled. "Etites are mixed in the horde." A shadow moved faster than sight, bypassing their defense. But Mata was ready. Flames roared to life, incandescent blade style. The heat warped the very air around him. A wall of fire erupted, slicing the beast in two before it could scream. The squad froze in shock, eyes widened as they looked back. The rookie was wielding a sword of pure inferno. The vice captain smiled. So the boy has fangs. His potential was terrifying. Suddenly, beams of light pierced the battlefield. Moo had joined the dance of death. The monsters fell into pieces. Unaware they were already dead. The source of the blue light was revealed. Following their hard one victory, the squad constructed a makeshift fortress of ice and snow. Within this frozen sanctuary, they gathered to recover their stamina. Kuryama scoffed at the caution, dismissing the danger. His sensory field extended 10 km and the beast responsible for this frozen hell was nowhere to be found. The vice captain decided they would camp there for the night, but her sharp gaze swept the room. She demanded the location of the captain and Manado. They were absent from the shelter. Outside, braving the biting cold, Manado sat in deep meditation before a flickering flame, visualizing his battle against the calamity. He had tasted the power of fusing two skills once before. If he could just replicate that flow, he was certain he could weave his other abilities together. It only required absolute focus. He was on the verge of a breakthrough, convinced of his success when a shadow suddenly materialized behind him. The rookie has a fire in his belly for training, doesn't he? Captain Makoto's voice cut through the silence. The ghostly arrival sent a jolt of pure terror through Monado. Manado tried to play it cool, denying the fright. In reality, his heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. The captain had zero presence. Makoto asked if this was the rookie's first expedition camp. When Monado nodded, the captain mumbled something strange about needing to smoke. His cat. Manado blinked, utterly confused. Was that code for something illicit? Did the captain have a secret addiction to some underground substance? But the misunderstanding vanished as quickly as it came. Makoto wasn't talking about drugs. He whipped out his phone to show off his actual feline companion. The captain shoved the screen uncomfortably close to Manado's face. Despite the invasion of personal space, the creature on the screen was undeniably adorable. His name is Haru. Manado asked if the name held some mystical significance, noticing how the cat's eyes seemed to pierce through the camera lens in every single photo. When asked if he missed the furball, Makoto shrugged. Not really. He complained about the eternal struggle of having his uniform covered in shedding fur. The furniture destroyed. The apartment, a wasteland of hairballs. It was a chaotic existence living with the beast. The cat detested affection and was a nightmare to care for. It was like dealing with a human whose heart was sealed behind iron walls, yet was as cute as a little brother. Just as cute as my younger brother," Makoto added. Manato's sweat dropped, wondering if all cat lovers were this eccentric. But then the captain's voice softened. He confessed a silent wish to one day bridge the gap and speak to his aranged brother, just as he did with his pet. The pieces of the puzzle finally clicked for Manado. Though he was an only child, he realized the captain was overthinking the relationship dynamics. Why not treat your brother exactly like that stubborn cat? Manado suggested the captain froze. He hadn't expected such profound wisdom from the rookie. It made sense. Makoto agreed, but his attention immediately drifted back to his phone, couping over a video of the creature. In the clip, Makoto tried to offer a treat only for the beast to savage his hand. "Cute," he muttered, completely ignoring the violence. Manato asked if treating a human like that baby would really work, but Makoto abruptly shifted gears, asking if the rookie was up for a sparring match. Manado wasn't keen on getting beaten up, but before he could refuse, the vice captain marched over. The fun was over. They had an early start tomorrow. "We move out at dawn," she commanded. To her absolute horror, the captain responded with a soft meow. As the camp settled into the night, they remained oblivious to the gears of fate turning elsewhere. In the freezing dark, a figure approached a man clad only in thin rags. "You'll freeze to death," the stranger warned. But the man was an awakened, driven by a fanatical mission to fulfill an ancient prophecy. A powerful entity was converging on the same mountain. Meanwhile, deep within the spiritual realm, Manado stood before the Majay for his nightly training. "Focus your mind," the mage ordered. Nearby, the samurai spirit grumbled, annoyed that his swordsmanship lesson had been hijacked by the spellcaster. "Your turn was yesterday." A brute the mage snapped. The samurai crossed his arms, visibly frustrated by the scheduled conflict. Ignoring them, the mage observed Manato. The boy's concentration had sharpened like a blade, a far cry from his clumsy first attempt. I can't fail them, Monado declared. I'm part of an elite squad now. I have to pull my own weight to survive this mission. He drew the spiritual bowring, aiming not at a target, but at the void itself. With a breath, he released the energy using the mage's technique. The arrow flew true. Magnificent, the founder praised. Etch that sensation into your soul. That is enough for tonight. Manado collapsed, drained. But the samurai stepped forward, grinning. Finished. Not yet. We train until your eyes open in the real world. However, before the steel could clash, the dream faded. The call of reality pulled Manato back to the waking world. Dawn broke. The captain's demeanor had hardened. "Today we end this," he announced. "We find the source of the prophecy and crush it. It was day two of the expedition." The scouts voice rang out. Hostiles detected 150 m out. Count is 20. Scatter formation. The vice captain roared. Engage and destroy within Manado's mind. The founder scoffed. Small fry. This looks like an easy mission for you. Another spirit agreed. The boy has strong allies this time. We won't see a repeat of that previous tragedy. But the mage looked toward Methusa. The old man was trembling, his eyes darting around. The air tasted wrong. Too wrong. Sector clear. A soldier reported wiping blood from his blade. The captain nodded, satisfied with their efficiency. Kuryama status. The sensors face went pale. Captain. 2 km out. A massive energy spike. It's the boss. And it's charging straight at us. Panic rose in his voice. Impact in less than 10 seconds. Brace yourselves. Contact. But before they could even react, the nightmare was already upon them. The monstrosity loomed over the squad like a shadow of death. Its danger rating was off the charts. The vice captain froze. This aura was far more suffocating than any S-rank beast they had ever faced. It was a class of its own. Still, they charged. A binding spell locked the beast in place for a split second, creating a vital opening. Now, the vice captain led the charge, unleashing a coordinated assault with the rest of the team. A torrent of fire engulfed the boss. But when the smoke cleared, impossible. Not even a scratch. Their ultimate combo didn't even phase it. From above, a shadow descended. It was Manado. He recalled his master's words. Hesitate and you die. Focus only on the kill. Channeling Cain's teachings, he poured every ounce of mana into his blade. He would strike with everything he had. With the flaming sword technique, he swung his blade with the intent to sever the heavens. But reality was cruel. His strongest blow left only a pathetic scorch mark on the beast's arm. Suddenly, a massive limb came crashing down. The force of the counterattack was devastating. The impact launched him like a ragd doll. Coryama screamed his name, but Manado was alive, saved only by the soft snow cushioning his fall. This power, it was a prophecy rank one calamity. Their only hope now rested on the captain's shoulders. Makoto was ready. He stepped forward, his presence shifting the very atmosphere of the battlefield. Coryama dragged Manato back. They were just in the way now. Don't interfere, he warned. The beast brought its colossal blade down on Captain Makoto. Manado's heart stopped fearing the worst, but the attack stopped dead. The captain had blocked the mountains shattering blow with just the tip of his sword. "You're strong," Makoto smirked, holding back the Titan effortlessly. "But that's all you are," Manato watched in disbelief. "It's over," the vice captain declared his voice trembling with relief. Witness the power of a one-man army. The monster roared and struck again, but it was feudal. The captain parried effortlessly. In a flash of silver light, two of the monster's arms hit the ground. Inside Manato's mind, the samurai spirit scoffed. Not bad for a modern warrior in this talentless era. Let me take over, kid. I want a piece of this. But Manado gritted his teeth, refusing to yield control of his body. I wish you all could handle this alone, the captain. But playtime is over. Mana exploded around him. Red Dragon of the Emperor. The vice captain frantically erected a barrier. Brace yourselves. Without the barrier, the captain's inferno would have incinerated his own squad along with the enemy. A corridor of pure destruction carved through the battlefield. Manado stared trembling at the sight. The monster shrieked as it was consumed. Manado realized the gap between them was like heaven and earth. This was the true power of a flaming sword user. Without that barrier, Manado would be nothing but ash. We protect the world, the captain declared heroically before adding a soft meow for his beloved cat. The vice captain face palmed. Their legendary leader was a total slave to his pet. It was a masterclass in swordsmanship leagues beyond Monado's current level. Truly incredible. With one final decisive strike, the colossal beast collapsed. The squad cheered, believing the battle was won. Victory was theirs, or so they thought. Suddenly, Crimson sprayed through the air. The captain's arm was gone. Makoto stared at his severed limb in shock. Before anyone could breathe, Coryama collapsed. A fatal wound opened on his chest. Manato's eyes went wide with horror. They were under attack. Manato rushed to his fallen comrade, but Coryama shoved him away. Get back, kid. He watched helplessly as invisible strikes rained down. Coryama coughed blood, realizing his failure. "My radar! It failed us," he whispered. He died, believing in his captain, even as the light faded from his eyes. A primal roar of fury tore from Makoto's throat. He now knew exactly where the enemy was hiding. "Take cover!" the captain screamed. Around them, squad members dropped like flies, harvested by an unseen reaper. The vice captain watched in despair as two more life signals vanished. "It was a massacre. We're losing them. This wasn't a physical strike. It was a skill-based execution. It bypassed their defenses completely. Whatever touched it faced instant annihilation. Makoto locked onto the presence and charged. The vice captain screamed. Captain, no. You're too injured. The nightmare wasn't over. The boss monster regenerated in a grotesque display of immortality. She screamed for Monado. But the boy stood frozen like a statue. His mind shattered by the horror before him. His soul cried out for a savior for resurrection. But the ancient spirits whispered a cruel truth. Even their divine power had limits. The gates of the underworld could not be reversed for the dead. Crushed by this reality, Manado reached out to the spirits dwelling within him, desperate to end this calamity. He hated relying on the samurai's strength again, swearing this would be the last time he needed a crutch. But for now, he begged for power. The spectral samurai sensed his resolve and answered the call. Manado's hair bleached white as the possession took hold. Meanwhile, Captain Makoto sensed a distant threat. An attack from over three kilometers away. It pierced the barrier and tore Cory's arm clean off in a spray of crimson. This enemy was a monster on par with the captain himself. Usually, Makoto suppressed his aura to let his squad grow, but no more holding back. With god-like speed and vision, he crossed the snowy wasteland in a heartbeat. Nothing could stand in his way. The image of his maimed comrade burned in his mind, fueling his rage. He would not let their blood be spilled in vain. Closing the distance, he unleashed a devastating wave of energy. The atmosphere cracked under the pressure. The asalent was shocked to be found so quickly, yet he grinned. As expected of the captain, he scoffed. Makoto's eyes narrowed. His flames were being swallowed by a dark void. The enemy mocked him, claiming victory would be certain if Makoto wasn't already crippled. But words are wind. Orbs of pure darkness launched forward. Makoto raised his guard, but the energy drilled a massive crater through the snow. Makoto vanished, reappearing behind the killer for a lethal strike. But steel shattered against power. His blade broke and a jagged wound opened on Makoto's abdomen. The enemy chuckled, surprised he still had his head. "Looks like you're the one knocking on death's door, Captain." Furious, Makoto launched a desperate follow-up. Useless, the man weaved through the attack, and kicked Makoto directly in his open wound. Agony spiked through him. Fighting through the pain, Makoto smashed his sword, hilt into the enemy's face, sending him skidding back. Why did he stop Makoto realized the enemy's destructive power had a fatal cool down? Even a monster can't spam a skill that powerful without paying a price. The enemy rose, wiping blood from his lip. You have limits, too. The dark user smirked. But look at you. Broken, bleeding, and running on fumes. Makoto stood tall, blood dripping onto the ice. Disadvantage. You clearly don't know who I am. He recalled the ironclad laws of his squad. Three rules etched into their very souls. Flames erupted around him. The enemy watched in horror as Makoto burned his own flesh to seal the wounds. Rule number three, overcome all weakness. The captain was burning his own life force as fuel. Realizing this was the endgame, the dark user prepared his final card. Makoto smiled, thinking of his squad. They would witness a legend today. Broken sword. It didn't matter. His will was sharper than any blade. Exploding with aura. He unleashed the scarlet flame of the red dragon. God emperor, a technique of absolute destruction. Opposite him, arrogance manifested as spheres of abyssal darkness. Meanwhile, back on the battlefield, Manato screamed. His plea reached the void. The samurai accepted his resolve, and Manado's hair turned snow white. The squad was being slaughtered by the beast Ketus. The vice captain gritted her teeth. They were outmatched. Hope was fading. She glanced at Manado, her heart aching for the boy who was forced into this hell. He was just a civilian, an ordinary kid dragged into the world of hunters and endless death. It was too much for one soul to bear. But then, then he moved. The atmosphere shifted instantly. He vanished, reappearing in a flash of light. A golden kick obliterated the monster, turning it into glittering dust. The squad gaped in awe. As Manata walked away, a legion of spirits trailed behind him, whispering, "Leave it to us." Back to the clash of titans, Sue launched a barrage of fiery slashes at the blonde user of darkness. The enemy danced away, sweat forming. The flames were too intense. They were burning through his darkness. Desperate, the blonde hurled two void spheres, baiting Sue into a direct counter. But Sue saw through it. He weaved past the trap and sliced the enemy's arm clean from his body. Victory seemed certain, but a brutal knee strike slammed into Sue's open gut wound. The captain collapsed. The enemy sneers at Sue's desperate condition. One arm gone and a gaping hole in his stomach. He knew Sue would rush into close combat range. A predictable move for a wounded warrior, but that predictability is his death sentence. The blonde reveals the cruel truth of fate. He summons the book of ruin. Sue freezes. It is the exact same artifact they possess. Balance must exist, the enemy declares. One group stops the end, but we ensure it arrives. I am one of the 12 apostles of the apocalypse. Number 12, the Avatar of Darkness. He vows to bring forth the world's destruction. Sue asks why while gripping his hidden blade. The apostle lowers his guard to taunt him. Asterisk flash times. A single strike rips from chest to ear. Flesh burns away. Sue's hope ignites. The enemy is frail. He can be killed. Victory is mine. Sue roars, his blade engulfed in flames. Not today, the apostle whispers. He unccors a holy vial. Divine light explodes outward. Sue is blinded by the radiance. A heavy impact slams him into a pillar of ice. When his vision clears, the apostle stands healed. Not a scratch remains. A precious artifact. The enemy smirks. Essential for killing a captain. Sue swings his fires sword again, but four spheres of pure void manifest to block the strike. This power is unfair. No organization should possess such god tier items without regulation. The defense holds. A brutal kick buries itself in Sue's stomach. Darkness falls. Sue collapses, hovering at death's door. The apostle towers over him like a grim reaper. Memories flash before his eyes. His family, his team, the promise he made to Manado. Take care of Shinji. Treat him like family. He recalls the cat's smile. Manado was right. He cannot die here. He forces his body up. The sword blazes with his last ounce of life. He strikes, but in an instant, his hand and sword vanish into the void. Obliterated, number 12 bids him farewell. The spheres launch, but suddenly a thunderous explosion. The massive ice hill shears in half. A figure emerges. White hair flowing with spiritual energy. A chorus of ancient souls speaks through his lips. Did you make our disciple cry? Sue stares. Is that Manato? No. The pressure crushing the air says otherwise. Even the apostle freezes. This is not the aura of a human. This is a monster. Stay back. Number 12 screams, charging his void spheres. I will kill. asterisk slash asterisk. Silence falls. His arm drops to the snow. He never even saw the blade move. Manado holds a shattered hilt. Dull steel. The samurai spirit scoffs within him. One strike and it breaks. The wheelchair spirit size. Use the transformation arts. Show him true hell. The spirits command. The apostle's arm begins to grow back. Impossible. The samurai notes. Time reversal. A modern human shouldn't know this. It must be the artifact's power. It will keep healing him until the magic runs dry. Then we simply kill him until he stays dead. A new soul takes the wheel. Asterisk thip times. An arrow pierces the apostle's skull. The hunter founder has taken control. The enemy heals again. How do we beat this? Simple. We grind him to dust. Darkness forms a shield. Useless. Three arrows fly. Two to the chest. One to the eye. Regenerate all you want. The founder taunts. Your stance is full of openings. Number 12 screams in rage, firing a barrage of void spheres at the vessel. The vessel dances through the rain of death. He closes the distance. He grabs the apostle. Fists rain down like a meteor shower. I understand your power now. The spirit laughs. Your void destroys all, but you are blind. If you cannot see, you cannot aim. It is a one-sided massacre. Manado tosses the broken body aside like trash. The founders argue, "Was that death number 10 or 20?" Manado walks towards Sue. Manado Su whispers. "Not quite the entity," replies, casting a preservation spell. Blood spilled and secrets revealed. "The entities within aren't just voices. They are the founding ancestors fighting for control. But there is no time for ancient lore. With god-like speed, they vanish, leaving Sum Makoto alone to decipher their cryptic guidance. The scene shifts." Number 12 drags himself back from the brink of death, questioning if his abyss is truly invincible. He curses Manado as a demon. Desperation claws at his mind, searching for a victory condition before the inevitable strike. Too slow, another founder takes the wheel. A lance of judgment pierces 12's heart, crucifying him against the stone. The founder wonders if this damage is permanent. But look, the flesh knits together. 12 regenerates and falls, refusing to fade. Persistence becomes annoyance. A celestial downward kick obliterates his physical form into mist. The founder scoffs at the cockroach-like resilience. Must they atomize him completely to end this farce? 12 regenerates from a mere hand, terror sets in. He abandons the fight, aiming to slaughter Sumakoto to escape, but the path is blocked. Manado stands like a guardian deity. The sword saint whispers to Sue, "Watch closely, boy." Manado becomes a whirlwind of steel. 12 reflects on his fanatic loyalty to the prophecy, believing himself beyond death. But facing this monster, the illusion shatters. The primal terror he thought he had transcended comes rushing back. In a panic, he draws his trump card. As his arm flies off, he unleashes the sand of time, a legendary artifact. The grains of destiny swirl. Manado is trapped within the cage of time. Sand, sealed away from the battlefield. 12 triumphs. The regeneration nullification has ceased. He activated the trap just before losing the limb. The founders debate the seal, but the priority shifts. The enemy's immortality has been paused. He is vulnerable. 12 laughs in the face of death. Even darkness cannot rot the cage. He is safe. He turns to leave the slaughterhouse, but the sword saints voice cuts through the arrogance. Did you forget I told the boy to pay attention? Panic spikes 12 turns. Behind him, Sue Makoto broken and bloody stares with the eyes of a predator. We dive into the archives of memory. Sue recalls Manato's taunts. You will never beat me without a true master. Taking those words to heart, Sue walked the path of the seeker. He found masters, many of them. But he was too vast for them. Every teacher hit their limit. They had no wisdom left to pour into his cup. One by one, they surrendered to his talent until her. Hinoi, the only master who could contain his potential for three long years. Su asked about the phantom technique, the move that even she, the grandmaster, had never fully comprehended. It was the apex of the Hanoi one-hand style. She confessed she had nothing left to teach. He had conquered the curriculum. "How do I reach the next realm?" he asked. Silence was her answer. His talent was a curse of limitlessness. Despite the hellish training, he remained a bud that refused to open. His potential was locked behind an invisible gate. She gave him a choice. Wander forever for a new master or stagnate. Blooming seemed like a distant dream. But she left him with a prophecy. One day you will witness a swordsman who transcends logic. Learn from his shadow. Do not blink. That was the lesson Sue watches. Manado's god-like movements and gratitude floods his soul. The gate opens. The founders watch in stunned silence. What is this pressure? Manado's eyes widen as he senses the shift. It isn't just mana. It is presence. Sue's aura rises like a dragon waking from slumber, rivaling even the founders. Even in the anti-prophecy wing, the air trembles. Manori senses the disturbance. Is this truly Sue's dormant power? Instinct takes over. She smashes through the walls. Debris flies as she carves a path to the center of the storm. Back in the kill zone, 12's mind goes blank. Confusion reigns. The battered boy stands before him. Logic dictates Sue should be crippled. He shouldn't be able to lift a finger. Yet the air screams of impending death. 12 knows it in his bones. He is about to be severed. The sword saint speaks of the philosophy of the blade. Humans are ephemeral blossoms. True potential is a flash of lightning appearing only at the absolute peak of existence. Whether through perfect technique or grasping the truth of the universe. For Sumakoto, the time is now. Burn this into your memory. The presence expands. The bud that waited years is finally tearing open. Sue raises a trembling arm. No weapon, just intent. The pressure becomes heavy enough to crush lungs. 12 panics. He summons a barrier of dark spheres, but Sue has reached the summit. The lost technique blooms. Indomitable a slash with no sword. A cut with no hands. The invisible blade cleaves through the apostle. Reality distorts. 12 cannot comprehend it. His defenses were perfect. Yet the blade of intent cut through the void itself. The prophecy is silenced. Doze is split down the middle. As the enemy falls, the samurai bows to the new legend. The phantom blade that had existed only within his mind finally manifested into reality. It sliced through the stormy rainladen clouds, piercing the very heavens. The sky reflected the legendary swordsmen he had become. In these final moments, gratitude flooded his heart for his family, his sworn brothers, and his loyal comrades. Even facing the abyss, his only regret was a silent apology to his brother. Yet, a profound sense of completion washed over him. His thoughts drifted to Monado. As their souls connected, he realized death was merely a transition. The flame was not extinguished. His will would live on in the next generation. With his final breath, he whispered his thanks as Manato emerged from the shadows to receive the torch. The connection surged through their crests, binding their fates. But suddenly, a vile beam of emerald energy tore through the silence, interrupting the sacred transfer. Midori arrived like a thunderbolt, screaming his name. He caught the falling legend just in time. But the warmth was already fading from the captain's body. At just 23 years old, Su Makoto had fallen in battle against the dough. Midori's scream pierced the air, questioning the cruel hand of fate. Memories flooded back of a time he asked the captain why he led others. With his god-like strength, surely he would be faster alone. Aside from Midori, he was peerless under the heavens. But the captain had just smiled, calling Midori's lone wolf mentality naive. Midori had pressed him, asking if he didn't desire to shine brighter than the stars themselves. But before the answer could fall, destiny interrupted them. News arrived that Kushiro had finally ascended, passing the trials to become a level two swordsman. The room erupted in joy. With a new powerhouse on their side to aid the cause, they decided to feast in celebration. That was his answer. He told Midori that having comrades meant everything. Even if pain was the price of that bond, his legacy would survive through them. Finding this family was his true nirvana. But back on the cold, hard battlefield, Midori choked on his tears. Every comrade had witnessed the captain's magnificence. And though many had fallen, survivors remained. He begged the captain to fulfill his duty one last time. With trembling hands, he closed the hero's eyes, granting him eternal rest. Rest now, Captain. Minato collapsed, his consciousness shattered, and pulled into the abyss of his inner world. The ancient founders stood before him. Darkness encroached on his soul, a mirror of his despair and isolation. He despised his own powerlessness. But the founders watched with knowing eyes, for they too had walked this path of ruin. They had buried kin brothers and lovers. They had felt the sting of betrayal and the crushing weight of heartbreak. Grief had once forged chains around their souls. A samurai founder stepped forward from the mist, calling out to the broken boy, but Manado silenced the spirit. "I am done with fighting," he screamed, his will pulverized by the loss. If he had just surrendered control to the founders from the start, perhaps the captain would still breathe. He offered himself up as a mere vessel. Take this body, he pleaded. It is better this way. Let me disappear. The spirits tried to reason, but he shut them out. Yet the hand that had held the captains burned with an undying heat. A fire ignited by trust. He could not would not trample on the legacy entrusted to him by the man who believed in him. He wouldn't just surpass the ancestors. He would conquer the agony itself. Instantly, the inner void shifted from despair to a brilliant azure light. The founder smiled, witnessing the birth of true resolve. Manado swore a blood oath. No one else will die on my watch. Eyes blazing with determination. He faced his destiny. The scene shifts the storm of battle, replaced by the cold silence of the aftermath. Midori marched through the frozen hellscape, the captain's body heavy in his arms. With grim reverence, he sealed the fallen hero in a body bag. Mission complete. The dead were retrieved, but Midori refused the extraction, his eyes dark with vengeance. As the chopper ascended, he remained alone in the wasteland. He dialed Manado, his voice cold as steel. "The captain is gone," he reported. "Our true enemy stands revealed. The 12 apostles of the apocalypse. Formalities be damned. First, he would hunt them to the ends of the earth. With that, Midori vanished into the shadows." One month later, at the Neon Prefecture on Mount Mitaka, Manado clashed with Shinji, utilizing Aikido to seize the advantage. He unleashed the golden kick to end it. Enough. A voice cracked like a whip, halting the spar instantly. It was Hinoi Icha, the late captain's master. The narrative drifts back to the funeral, a day etched in sorrow for the anti- pry group. The grief was suffocating. Shinji stood paralyzed before his brother's portrait, his soul hollowed out by the loss. Later, Manado found him in the corridor. Shinji looked like a walking corpse. Dark circles carving hollows under his eyes. He confronted Manato about the stray cat. "Did you know?" he demanded, his voice trembling. "I knew nothing about my own brother, the cat in his room, the novels he loved, the clothes he wore. It's<unk> all a mystery to me. I never knew what he was thinking until I saw the remnants of his life. The weight of his ignorance crushed him." Manato's gaze fell upon the stack of notebooks. "I'm taking these," Shinji declared. "His diaries, his failafe. They were letters from the grave. Pages filled with grueling training logs, mission reports, and the fragments of a hero's soul. The final entry was heartbreaking. A simple note wondering if his brother was doing well on the day Shinji passed the hunter's exam. It spoke of small, precious things. Joining the anti pry and bringing a watermelon for Shinji, a legacy of simple love left behind. Sue had been so worried about Shinji's reconnaissance mission. The weight of that care crushed Shinji, breaking down in his un the brother's empty room. Before he could drown in sorrow, Manado appeared, assuring him that Su<unk>s pride in Shinji was eternal. Tears streamed down Shinji<unk>s face. He clenched his fists and swore an oath to become so powerful that his brother in heaven would never need to worry again. Fueled by this burning resolve, Manado and Shinji sought out the legendary master Hinoi Icha. When they broke the news of Sue's death in combat, the master was left reeling in shock. Yet, she agreed to forge them into weapons. We returned to the heat of the dojo. Hinoi watched them with a keen eye, acknowledging that their strength had soared to new heights. She praised Shinji's explosive growth, but when Minato asked for guidance, she simply smiled bitterly, admitting she had nothing left to teach a monster like him. However, a warrior never stops honing their blade. She tossed swords to them, demanding a spar. As Steel clashed against Steel, Manado's mind drifted. Realizing he was becoming the strongest awakened one in existence, but his internal monologue was cut short. The scene shifts across the globe to London, England. A mysterious figure walked through the fog until a voice called out from the shadows, asking if he was one of the 12 apostles of the apocalypse. O, the man smirked, confirming his identity to Midori. But Midori was not there for pleasantries. He demanded the location of the base. His voice was cold as the grave. Lie to me and your life ends here. The apostle laughed, telling him not to be so impatient, suggesting they play a little game first, but the game was rigged from the start. We see Midori walking out of a blood soaked alley. The air heavy with death. He had warned the man, and now he held five prophecy books. Midori's eyes were dead. He told his captive to move to the next target without mercy. Meanwhile, deep within the shadows of the organization, inside the secret eternal vision cabin, an elderly woman examined the spoils of war, asking if these tomes belonged to a claust, the rogue hunter, Midori. This was Chief Executive Chu. Beside her stood her elite assistant, Shaam. Tenan confirmed the grim truth. These were the prophecy records of the 12 apostles. Midori was hunting them down one by one. Another assistant, Cory Shiki, revealed the secret. These books were merely fragments, pieces of a single catastrophic original scripture. Chu noted that collecting the books wasn't the issue. The problem was Midori, a lone wolf driven by the trauma of Sue's death. The scar on his soul was deep. When asked what they should do, Chu simply sighed. Leave him be. He wouldn't listen to orders anyway. Just offer him tea if he returns alive. Tenan then shifted the atmosphere, bringing up the heavy cost of the recent war. Sue's death had left a void that threatened to collapse them. Of the eight elite squads, only Sue's team had been disbanded, a dangerous gap in their defenses. The assistants proposed a solution. It was time to forge a new squad from the ashes. The scene jumps to the chaos of Tokyo. A rank two prophecy known as rebellion was tearing the city apart. Led by the nameless fallen god, a group of hunters struggled desperately, complaining that the enemy was overwhelming. Every opponent had a unique weakness. But Captain Hibiki watched with a calm gaze. She noted their lack of discipline and ordered Akane to end the farce. Akane stepped forward, unleashing the magic of tisma. "Justice," she cried, combining gas, liquid, and flame into a devastating alchemy. Molten metal formed in the air like judgment. The scorching liquid encased the enemy's heads, compressing and piercing them with lethal spikes, turning them against each other in a frenzy before finally purging them all in holy fire. Mission complete, she declared. Captain Hibiki clapped, impressed by the display, praising Akane for weaving four distinct attacks into a single breath. Truly extraordinary talent. She lamented that Akane was only a temp and extended an invitation to join her squad permanently. Akane promised to consider it. As the other members whispered in the background, the captain was clearly desperate to recruit her. They agreed that Akane's strength and cute charm would be a perfect asset to the team. Akane dashed off and dialed Manado, reporting that she had mastered the three states of alchemy. "What is my next trial?" she asked. The scene shifts to the mystical Mount MCH, where Manado was casually playing with a wild beast. He consulted the ancient founder of alchemy, who nodded, approving the next stage of her training. Manado relayed the orders, promising to guide her path to absolute power. Meanwhile, Ho was locked in his own duel, battling a terrifying prophecy, a divine beast known as the Sky Devar. With a flash of speed, he landed a devastating light kick. The sphinx-like boss crumbled instantly, earning a roar of applause from the onlookers. Captain Troy Cuchu beamed with pride. The squad tossed Hyo into the air in celebration, begging him to join their ranks. But back with Akane, her eyes burned with determination. I won't be left in the dust. She vowed to surpass every one of them. Manado mentioned that Shinji was also evolving rapidly. His pride in their growth was evident. Akane blushed her heart, skipping a beat at his praise. Shinji tried to pull the beast off Manato, but Canai changed the subject, mentioning the rumors swirling in the shadows. A new squad was rising, and the new captain would be chosen by combat achievements. Hio laughed, arrogance radiating off him. "The new captain won't be a The new unit finally had a name, the Kaiji squad." He chuckled at the sound of it until the cold reality settled in. The smile vanished from his face instantly. Wait to him, he demanded an explanation, his voice cracking with pure disbelief. Why on earth was he chosen? Why must he be the captain? She revealed the heavy truth. The ancient prophecy craved a specific anomaly, a being who defied fate itself, an existence capable of shattering every prediction written in the stars. It was a desire she shared deeply. To break these chains, they required absolute power. They needed a leader with the strength to command the squad and execute this suicide mission. That was why Minato was the only choice. Stunned into silence, he watched her leave, promising to explain later. The scene shifts to a solitary figure amidst the crashing waves. Minato sat at top a seab battered rock, the weight of leadership pressing down on him. Icha watched from afar, asking Shinji what plagued his mind. Shinji sighed. The boy was wrestling with the burden of command. Icha's eyes softened. She knew that if Manato truly desired it, he would succeed. Shinji nodded in agreement. Destiny had already chosen him. As they watched in silence, a different conversation brewed within Monado's soul emblem. The legendary founders debated offering guidance. Yet, silence reigned. They were masters of combat, solitary peaks of power who walked alone. Leadership was a foreign concept to warriors like them. The founder of magic scoffed at their collective uselessness as mentors in this field. He tried to push the burden onto Ryan, the genius military strategist, but Ryan coldly refused. It was not yet his moment to intervene. Someone else was far better suited for this lesson. Back in the real world, a wooden blade slammed into the stone with a deafening crack. Icha roared at him to stop brooding and start moving. She demanded he unleash his quickstep technique immediately. Manado launched himself from the rock, sprinting across the water's surface. Icha dared him to strike with full force, analyzing his movements. His growth was monstrous for someone awakened only six months ago. Inside the emblem, the samurai founder guided Manato's spiritual footing. With the founder's aid, Minato instinctively weaved aside. Boom! Icha's blade pulverized the boulder behind him into dust. She didn't care about his doubts. She would force his body to remember the thrill of battle. The founders observed her intensity with interest. Even Ryan admitted her strength was exceptional for this weak era. But it made sense. She carried the blood of the sword god. However, a correction was made. The sword god had no children. She must be a descendant of his brother's lineage, inheriting that terrifying potential. As they analyzed her lineage, Ichica unleashed her signature move, celestial fall. The one-handed style tore through the air. She attacked without mercy. The swordfounder grinned with approval. Icha paused, praising Minato's slippery evasion skills. His movements, they mirrored the founder himself. She stared into his eyes, piercing through his hesitation. She knew exactly what he was thinking. He was measuring himself against a ghost. Could he ever be as strong as Makoto? Shinji watched with concern, seeing his friend crumble under pressure. Minato remembered Su's legendary leadership. How could he possibly fill those shoes? But just as the darkness of doubt crept in, Icha snapped him out of it. Don't try to be him. She summoned a raging water typhoon executing the Haninoi style tango dance, a technique born from sweat and blood developed by her master from the classic style. It wasn't talent, it was evolution, she admitted they weren't gods like the founders, but they stood tall. They trained every single day to grasp that divine level. If Manato wanted power, he had to bleed for it daily. She softened her gaze, admitting she didn't know the full legend of Sue, but his legacy was undeniable. However, she looked Minato dead in the eye. He didn't need to start as a legend. He could grow into the throne, maybe even surpass the past. She challenged him directly. Did he believe in himself? Focus on the now, not the shadow of another. Her words struck a chord. Minato felt the fog clear from his mind. It was about the future he would build, remembering the warmth of Sue's handshake. Fire returned to his eyes. Icha cheered, sensing his resolve. Keep moving forward. They clashed again. Steel singing against Steel. Two weeks later, tension filled the anti-prophecy headquarters. The captains gathered eyes scanning the roster for the new squad. The superintendent's assistant confirmed the selection was complete, but there was hesitation. These candidates, they were anomalies. Her gaze lingered on the files of Icha and Minato. Meanwhile, lurking in the shadows, perched high in a tree, a green-haired girl clutched a forbidden prophecy book of the apostles. She spoke into her phone, a wicked grin on her face. Infiltration successful. The rats were unaware of the viper in their nest. The captain's test was in 3 days, and she declared she would claim that title herself. Her name was Eva, one of the dreaded 12 apostles of the apocalypse. Her ability, the terrifying celestial demon art. She could erase a person's existence and take their place perfectly after killing them. Her goal was absolute seize command of the squad and rot the organization from within. She trembled with a mix of fear and hate. That monster Midori was hunting them down. A slaughter of the 12 apostles. Over half were already dead. She knew she couldn't face that demon in a direct clash. He was unstoppable. Her only hope was deception. Destroy his support, sabotage the mission, and force the prophecy to come true. But enough plotting. Time leaped forward. 3 days later, the exam began. The superintendent's assistant issued a grim warning to the candidates. The time has come. The trials to determine the new squadron. Leaders are about to commence. Four grueling tests lie ahead, but only four candidates will survive to reach the final phase. This is a battle for points. Gold takes three, silver claims two, and bronze earns a single point. In the end, the one standing at the apex with the highest score will ascend as the new captain. The superintendent watches like a hawk, demanding nothing short of perfection from every soul present. The crowd roars in agreement, but our protagonist, Manato, is analyzing the battlefield. Eight rivals, and every eye is fixed on him. The whispers begin. Kiharuki eyes him suspiciously, asking if this is the eccentric rookie everyone speaks of. Doubts fill the air. Can a newcomer who joined merely two months ago truly aspire to be a captain? This is Akinau voicing her skepticism. Then Sonormo scoffs, wondering if his reputation is nothing but smoke and mirrors. Isi joins the fry, mocking the fact that Manado has only been in their world for two short months. But Sakazaki sees the truth. This man survived a level one prophecy and was handpicked by Hanoi herself. Rumors swirl that he even tutored his own friends. This observation comes from the beast Shikami Nen. Jeru merely asks if Manato is another prodigy like himself. But hidden among them lurks Evo, one of the 12 apostles. Manado size. Every candidate stands proud with their squadron captain. Yet his side is empty. Ishika is missing. She overslept again. But her parting threat echoes in his mind. Lose before I arrive and into the volcano you go. He knows that is not a metaphor. She always delivers on her threats. He must survive or face a fiery demise. The signal fires. Elsewhere, we see Ishika riding Shinji like a waror, screaming as they tear toward the training grounds. She urges him faster, claiming this little game will be over in a blink. Back at the arena, Manato asserts his dominance. He crushes the first round, taking the gold in the mana measurement test. It is no surprise. In the past, he shattered the measurement device multiple times, leaving everyone in awe. The examiners explain that such destruction only happens when one possesses god tier strength or boundless mana. Naturally, they assume his specialty is magic. Sakazaki adjusts his glasses, noting the stark contrast between Monado and his next opponent. The announcer declares the second trial. Brutal hand-to-hand combat. First to score two points takes the glory. But before the lots are drawn, a hand shoots up. It is Shikami and he demands to fight Minato right now. Shikami N, the strongest brawler of the Todoroki squadron. a living weapon. He is an irregularity among irregularities. Legend says at 2 years old, trapped in a dimensional outbreak, he didn't cry. From his baby stroller, he slaughtered every monster in sight to protect his mother, a natural-born destroyer. The gallery erupts. Is this not a massacre? Sending a combat specialist against a supposed mage. But the Todoroki captain smirks. There is no such thing as unfairness in war. Shikami was bred for this moment. Shikami flexes his muscles, rippling with power that defies logic, even for an awakened. The captain chuckles, convinced the match will end in a heartbeat due to the sheer gap in physical power. The duel begins with words. Did you really teach Hinoi Shikami sneers shrugs, claiming he is merely a messenger, but Shikami spits venom, calling him a fraud who steals credit and mimics the genius of others? Hinoi is a prodigy like me, he barks. She would have ascended to the heavens even without your worthless tips. Manado remains unmoved by the insults, simply replying, you two certainly think alike. provoked. Shikami unleashes his ability. Violent right claws manifest. Muscles bulge and he charges like a raging beast. Manado gauges the speed and drops his stance. Golden energy begins to blaze around his fist. He weaves through the assault, wrapping himself in that radiant aura. The Todoroki captain screams for Shikami to finish it. But in a flash, Manado seizes Shikami's arm and drives him into the earth with catastrophic force. Boom! A massive crater forms from the throw alone. The crowd stands frozen as dust billows from the impact zone. A mage did this. Upside down, Shikami locks eyes with Manato. "You are strong," Manato admits. They exchange a grin, a warrior's acknowledgement, and Yu, Shikami laughs, flipping back to his feet are incredibly sarcastic. The candidates gasp. Shikami stands unbroken. The ground was pulverized, yet his body remains intact. Sakazaki shuddters. Judging by that physique, Shikami's resilience is far beyond that of a human being. Manato narrows his eyes as the beast approaches. Counterattacks won't be enough. He has to get serious. Using the debris as a foothold, he explodes forward. It is the light kick amplified by the penetration skill. A critical hit. He stomps the earth, driving his foot deep into Shikami's solar plexus with devastating force. This is the legendary luminance kick. The impact sends Shikami flying in a chaotic zigzag until his mana hits zero. He crashes to the dirt, totally spent. The audience watches in awe as Shikami lies twisted and broken. Victory belongs to Manado. He secures two more points as the elders murmur in approval of his flawless technique. His whispers to Sakazaki. Manado has clearly surpassed Shikami. Didn't you say he was only a mana specialist? Sakazaki's glasses glint. He miscalculated. He never expected Manado's martial arts prowess to be this overwhelming. A dark thought crosses his mind. If left unchecked, this boy will become a threat. He must be eliminated naturally. As he calibrates the data, Sakazaki plots. Manado is an obstacle that must be removed. We jump forward in time. Shikami awakens to a strange sight. His opponent is healing him. He tries to protest, but Manado silences him. "Stay still," Manato commands. Humiliated, Shikami grumbles. "Is the gap between them truly this wide? Strength, mana, and even healing arts. Is this kid a monster?" Manado's eyes darken as he remembers the past. The image of the fallen Sue squadron haunts him. "It is not about talent," he murmurs. "Now stand up. What in the world is this kid Shikami thinks terrified?" Suddenly, a massive explosion rocks the arena. The other battles have concluded. Giru stands victorious over Ki and Akina has crushed Sono in their duel. But the main event continues. Sakazaki versus [ __ ] Isaac taunts Sakazaki from the sidelines. You think stability makes you strong. Without a unique ability, you are just cannon fodder. A lack of power is a sin for a captain. Isaac snears. Sakazaki sigh his expression cold and calculating. I do not fight for glory. Sakazaki retorts. True geniuses are rare. Forced heroes only lead to early graves. When a commoner tries to play, hero death follows. A true commander needs only one thing. Adaptability. If I can increase survival rates by even 1%, I have done my duty. Manado's fists clench as he recalls the funeral. Sakazaki looks him dead in the eye, his words dripping with poison. I fight this way to avoid the miserable fate of the Sue squadron. Their captain's incompetence killed them. Even the defeated Shikami snaps. Shut your mouth. Four eyes. That is too far. Manato thanks him silently. His strikes. The discipline chains lash out like vipers, whipping Sakazaki again and again. He falls, but just as she prepares the finishing blow. Sakazaki raises a hand. I surrender. The referee calls it is furious. You coward. Why give up so easily? She tries to attack again. Akina holds her back. Sakazaki dusts himself off. I refuse to waste energy on a barbarian like you. The fight would have dragged on. I must conserve my strength for the final tests. It was a cold calculation. Deep down, Sakazaki knew he could have won, but he refused to reveal his trump cards to Manado just yet. Their eyes meet across the arena. The second stage ends and Manado reigns supreme with five points. The announcement blar. 30-minute break. The tension rises. The next rankings will be ruthless. The bottom four candidates will be purged. Manado frowns. Where are his master and Shinji? They are incredibly late. Did they get lost on the way to the arena? He worries silently. The scene shifts. Shinji pants for breath. We are here. Wait, this is not the exam site. It is headquarters. Why are we here? He asks. Icha stands frozen. The air is heavy with a sinister presence. Death, she whispers. Someone died here recently. The aura. It is still fresh. A monster has breached the sanctuary. She activates her spirit vision. Ghostly footprints and blood stains appear. Shinji turns pale. An infiltrator here. location is a top secret stronghold. Fear creeps into his voice. Icha narrows her eyes. It must be one of the 12 apostles. They knew about Captain Su Makoto. They found this place. Shinji is shook. She urges him to move. We must get to the exam site now. The victim was Captain Class, but no report was made. Is this revenge for Makoto? The mystery deepens. With grim determination, the duo rushes forward. Back at the arena, Monado stares into the distance. It is snack time. Warriors tend to their wounds and refuel. The atmosphere is a mix of relief and dread. Finally, Manado spots them. Master Shinji. He waves relieved she did not have to storm the gates. The tension was thick enough to choke on. The candidates instantly recognized her energy signature. It matched the special missions team perfectly. His frowned at the strange conversation. Who are you performing for? Shinji turned his sharp gaze to Icha, demanding answers. If a captainclass entity had truly been slaughtered, he gestured to the podium. explain this. All seven captains stand before us alive and well. Echo's lips curled into a mysterious smile. She summoned Manato with a knowing look. I have secrets to share. Time seemed to blur forward. Moments later, Manado's composure cracked. Panic seized him. Is an apostle really hiding among us right now? Keep your voice down, you fool, Shinji hissed. But Icha's expression remained grave. Based on the spiritual residue, the probability is undeniable. I saw the aftermath in the courtyard. At least one warrior of Captain Rank was obliterated. Yet the seven remain, her eyes narrowed. "Logic dictates only one terrifying possibility. The killer walks among us wearing a disguise." Manado swallowed hard. "Isn't that suicidal for us?" Manado whispered. Shinji nodded grimly. "If a captain slayer is here, silence is not an option. Failure means a massacre or worse." His voice dropped an octave. It could trigger a prophecy level cataclysm. We are talking about human extinction. Itcha tilted her head, eyes cold. Shall I just slaughter everyone here to be safe? Absolutely not. The others recoiled in horror. Manado wiped sweat from his brow. We need a surgical strike. We must identify the rat from the 12 apostles and eliminate them. Each's aura darkened. Agreed. One of those 12 holds the blood of Mako on their hands. She turned to Manado. Does your heart not burn for vengeance? The memory of Sue's death flashed in Manado's mind like a jagged blade. "Yes," he whispered. "Deep within his consciousness. A new presence awakened. A founder emerged from the shadows. "We must analyze the crime scene," the voice echoed. "It was Azure, the legendary detective founder." "However," he noted dryly, "this inconvenient exam blocks our path to the courtyard. "We could slip away during the break," Manado suggested, desperate for answers. "There is still time." Foolish Azure scolded. One wrong move alerts the predator. Assume this monster rivals the Snowy Mountain Apostle in power. If provoked, they could paint this academy in blood within seconds. We must be ready for war. Manado clenched his fist. This is likely the final trial of the day. Once it ends, I make my move. Can you really sniff out a trail here? Manado doubted. After a captain was killed right inside the anti-prophecy fortress, Ryu the warrior spirit scoffed. We trained on these peaks for a month. This is the sacred birthplace of the Hinoi sword style. For an enemy to breach this sanctuary, they must be tied to the apostles. Azure sighed. Must you bore me with the obvious? Deducting this is my duty as the detective. Azure adjusted his phantom glasses. The spirits bickered inside Manato's head. Just find the rat so I can cut them down. Ryu snarled. You're too eager to kill, Azure retorted. Manado sighed internally. Is every spirit in my bloodline obsessed with carnage? Azure ignored him. Boy asked the girl a question. Manado relayed the message to Icha. If the killer wields captainclass power, could the monster be hiding among the candidates? Icha's eyes widened, then hardened. She understood the implication. A terrifying thought, but entirely possible based on the intel. Focus your suspicion on the students, not the masters. Manado nodded, bracing himself. Next up is surely combat. He prepared his mind for battle as the break ended, but fate had a cruel sense of humor. His plan was completely shattered. His battle aura evaporated instantly. The third stage was a written exam. Candidates were locked in isolation cubicles. Silence reigned. No phones, no allies. Manado stared at the paper despair setting in. I can't sniff out a killer like this. The questions were gibberish to him. Ancient laws, prophecy rules. He knew nothing. Yet the fire in his eyes didn't dim. I won't yield. The results were brutal. Manado didn't just fail. He scored lower than the guy who snorred through the test. He didn't even place third. However, his legendary performance in the first two rounds saved him from the abyss. He was safe. Shikami was not so lucky. The exam claimed him. Yet, he smiled, clapping Monado on the shoulder. You survived, monster. That freak Sakazaki got a perfect score," Shikami grumbled. Manato laughed nervously. "And we are the zeros of the bunch. Doesn't matter," Shikami grinned. "You held the top rank. You're a beast." He shrugged. "I was done for anyway. My mana is dry. I'll be rooting for you, he said. I'm dying to see who claims the captain's throne. Shikami's expression turned serious. Listen, it's not just about power. A captain needs a squad. You need to understand the mechanics of leadership. A full squad requires at least seven souls. If you ascend Monado, you must recruit six warriors to bleed beside you. Choose wisely, he advised. Then a smirk appeared. And remember, I offer my blade to you. When you need muscle, call me. I'm the strongest physical brawler you'll ever meet. With a wave, he vanished into the crowd. No time for sentiment. Azure's voice cut through the noise. Run, boy, to the courtyard. Now, Manado sprinted. Do you have a suspect? Of course, the detective scoffed. I am the best. But I need one final piece of the puzzle to close the trap. It is finally time to unveil the sinner hiding in plain sight. We open this chapter with the weight of destiny pressing down as the race for captain begins. Following the total annihilation of the Sue Squadron, a void was left that demanded to be filled. At Icha's behest, Manado stepped into the crucible of the exams. Yet, it was Icha herself who brought the chilling revelation that shattered their peace. A monster wore a human face among them. An impostor had slaughtered a member to take their place, wearing the skin of a captain or a candidate. To root out this evil, one of the legendary founders, Azure, descended to lead the hunt. As Azure guided Manado's deduction like a master puppeteer, Icha's dramatic narration was rudely cut short. When asked why she spoke with such theatrical flare, she merely shrugged, claiming it kept the darkness at bay. Meanwhile, Manado, becoming Azer's avatar, scanned the perimeter with supernatural focus. He confirmed a grim truth, finding the corpse would expose the wolf in sheep's clothing. It was now undeniable that the killer belonged to the apostles. Captain Obvious then declared the terrifying reality. If an apostle is here, that abomination of fate, a prophecy book must be near. Just as Azure began to speak, the wind whispered a warning through the rustling leaves. He severed his link with Manado, who turned to face a blinding radiance. Standing there was the superintendent, bathed in an aura of pure power, questioning his purpose. When Manado demanded her identity, she deflected with a smile, claiming to be a mere passing old woman. Unshaken, she demanded an answer. Manado replied that he was hunting a murderer on these sacred grounds. A spark of interest lit her eyes. She realized this boy was no ordinary candidate. With a knowing gaze, she tested him, commenting on his competence. She suggested that if he were truly skilled, he must expose the sinner immediately. But Manado shook his head, his eyes burning with calculated intelligence. He already knew the enemy's face. Yet, he held back his blade. This was no guess. It was certainty. When the bewildered elder asked why he hesitated, Manato revealed the depth of the threat. The enemy was powerful and they did not walk this path alone. There were two shadows to purge. She questioned the existence of a second foe. Manado declared his intent to crush them both in a single decisive strike, planning to end it all when the sun rose tomorrow. Boldly, he asked the powerhouse to remain a spectator to his play. Amused, the random granny wished the young warrior luck, addressing him simply as boy. However, Manado insisted on his name, Kanji Manado. She promised to remember it before vanishing into the ether, leaving our hero stunned by her phantom-like exit. The narrative shifts to the dawn of the next day. As the superintendent strolled with her anxious aid, who questioned if all was truly well, the old master remained unbothered, dismissing the worry. She sensed that Manado held the keys to the truth and decided to let his gambit play out. However, she ordered Tenton to shadow the boy just in case the abyss stared back. She mused that she had only followed a trace of spiritual residue, never expecting to find a gem like him. It was a twist of fate she hadn't anticipated. Her subordinate stared puzzled, asking why she placed such faith in a novice. Her answer was simple yet profound. It was the fire in his eyes. We cut ahead to the heart of the exam where Manado crossed paths with the suspicious Shikami. The latter proposed an alliance, noting that today's trial would test Manado's leadership. He praised Sakazaki's strategic brilliance but claimed to support Manado's ascent to glory. Manado sharp as attack thanked him but questioned Shikami's sudden withdrawal from the spotlight. The answer was a veiled threat. Shikami claimed he changed tactics, believing the hunter hides best within the pack. The air grew heavy as Manado pierced through the lies, asking if Shikami planned to shatter the other promising jewels of the teams. Shikami's mask cracked. He admitted he would slaughter anyone if a fresh vessel was required. He lamented his poor performance, revealing his dark art only allowed him to plunder knowledge from a host's brain. Manado scoffed at his greed, saying that wasn't part of the script. Shikami chilled the air, agreeing, noting that Sakazaki's body would have been the superior prize. He then asked if that realization was why they were standing there. Suddenly, the trap snapped shut. The captains descended, restraining the leader of the Todoroki squadron. One captain demanded an introduction. A voice dripped with malice from Shikami's lips. The creature introduced herself, Eva, the 9inth Apostle. She revealed her terrifying ability to hijack bodies and harvest their minds after death. Yet, she confessed a miscalculation. She had not foreseen the variable known as kanji manado. She had chosen this vessel only for its brute strength. A captain pressed Eva on her objective, asking if she sought to crumble the organization from within. Eva confirmed the nightmare. But now that she was exposed, her killing intent exploded. She declared she would have to slaughter everyone present. She demanded to know who had seen through her perfect disguise. The captain pointed to the shadow beside her kanji manado. Eva's composure shattered. She couldn't believe Manado had the courage to walk beside death itself. A toxic green aura erupted around her. With the eyes of a demon, she screamed the final question, "Just who are you?" And that calls for a break. Did you enjoy the thrill? To witness the awakening of the next chapter, strike that subscribe button and unleash a like to power up. I will see you hunters in the next legendary adventure.