On the way to work, Kenji walks through an alley between cracked houses and moss-covered walls. The smell of mold and wet trash fills the air. There, four people surround a young man, demanding money.
He stops for a second. His fists clench. But he soon looks away and keeps walking. Deep down, he believes he can't protect anyone — not even his sister.
The factory where he works is on the outskirts of the village. Built with raw stone, twisted metal, and makeshift warehouses, the place still bears the scars of the war. The sky is overcast, and mist covers part of the distant hills.
From afar, Kenji spots Mr. Tomoji, arms crossed, staring at him seriously. Before he even gets close, the old man's hoarse voice echoes in the air:
— KENJI!!! How could you be this late?! — Tomoji shouts.
Panting, Kenji leans forward and responds:
— I... I'm sorry, MR. TOMOJI! Unfortunately, I ended up being late — Kenji says, still catching his breath.
The road to there is long, uneven, and full of puddles. Transportation in the area is almost non-existent, making every journey a challenge.
Tomoji silently watches the boy with a suspicious look. Deep down, he knows Kenji must have gone to the hospital. But he avoids asking. If he knew, he would want to help — and that would mean more expenses he can't afford.
The truth is that Tomoji is an admirable man. After the war, he built his own livelihood from scratch. He created a system for collecting magical ores, extracted from the bodies of gods and demons or from mana-soaked areas.
These ores are rare. Each fragment carries unique traces of magic, used only to forge special weapons. They're valuable but dangerous.
However, even someone like Tomoji carries deep scars. While he worked, his family waited for him with a celebration prepared. A god, disturbed by their joy, wiped them out. Tomoji never revealed the details. Kenji respects this silence.
During the day, Kenji dedicates himself to sorting the ores. Large and small fragments are thrown onto a stone table. He breaks, analyzes, and stacks them, always alert to the magical sparks jumping from the stones.
With every strike, a bluish light breaks free and dances in the air. The work is exhausting. And still, he presses on. After all, thanks to this effort, he keeps his sister in the hospital and provides shelter for himself and Tomoji.
He believes his extraordinary strength comes from the remnants of the ancient wars. That his body absorbed the energy left by the battles between gods and demons.
But he knows he's not the only one with special gifts. After so many conflicts, many people have awakened supernatural abilities.
Today, this has become almost common.
After sorting several ores — even some left by giant demons — Kenji was exhausted by late afternoon, ready to head home.
It's believed that ores from demons and gods are formed by a complete mix of their aura with their body, thus generating magical ores, fully covered by mana or aura.
He said goodbye to Mr. Tomoji but was interrupted before finishing the sentence.
— KENJI, YOU IDIOT!!
Startled, Kenji responded:
— I'M SORRRYYYY!!! By the way... what exactly am I apologizing for?
With a tired sigh, Mr. Tomoji countered:
— Kenji, it's fine wanting to take care of your sister... Just don't push yourself too hard. The work is tough, and times are hard. We live in a remote area, directly affected by these damn... Not to mention the rich and nobles.
He looked at the boy with seriousness, but also with affection.
— Unfortunately, I can't help you with more than that, so please, take care. Here, take this with you for later.
Tomoji handed Kenji a basket of fruits and concluded:
— It's okay to think we're weak... Because it's when we're faced with a situation where someone important to us is in danger, that we realize how strong we can be.
Kenji felt embarrassed but happy to hear those words. It was like, for the first time in a long time, someone believed in him — even if just a little. He thanked him and said goodbye, walking toward his home.
On the way, he ended up passing by a group of four drunk people. One of them was holding a staff in his left hand and wore dark, long clothes. The other wore ripped sleeves, had spiky hair, and displayed sharp teeth with a truly frightening smile. The two behind seemed to hide, like scared dogs ready to obey any command.
As Kenji passed by them, he overheard part of the conversation:
— Hey Kaito, what the hell was that?
— What do you mean, Haruki? By the way... what a bummer. The beer's already gone. It wasn't even worth robbing that guy earlier...
— You complain too much, Kaito. Don't you think you went too far? Besides robbing the guy, you ended up killing him.
Kenji froze. At that moment, he remembered the young man he had seen earlier surrounded by a group of four. "Could they be the same ones?" he thought.
— Well, he didn't want to cooperate — Kaito replied with an evil smile. — If he had cooperated, maybe he'd still be alive... He kept insisting the money was for his family. But what do I care about his family?
Everyone around laughed loudly, like jackals. Kaito, still unsatisfied, continued:
— I want more money. Too bad there's nothing worth a damn in this rundown place.
One of the two henchmen commented:
— If I remember correctly, there's an old place nearby that works with ore recycling. Might be useful.
With a terrifying smile, Kaito responded:
— Perfect!
The group passed by Kenji as if he were invisible, not seeing him as a threat.
Kenji, on the other hand, felt a cold shiver run up his spine. He immediately remembered Mr. Tomoji.
— What are the chances of this being true...? Mr. Tomoji...