At seven years old, Rael Kaizen learned betrayal as the fiercest teacher. He watched his family fall beneath the blades of supposed allies—faces he once trusted. With nothing but grief in his chest, he wandered the border woods, every rustle promising death. Hunger clawed at him, but despair was sharper.
A pack of snarling night wolves closed in under a moonless sky. Rael's small frame trembled as razor fangs glinted. Then a torrent of water surged between him and the beasts, ripping one wolf's jaw apart in a single, graceful strike.
Kieran Veyne stood there, chest heaving, calm blue eyes fixed on Rael. "You okay?" he asked, voice steady—soothing as a midnight stream. Without a second thought, he offered Rael his hand.
By dawn, the Veyne household had transformed the orphaned boy into family. Matron Veyne pressed bright tea to his lips and joked, "We raise heroes here—find your lover before you find trouble." Rael coughed into his cup, but smiled; for the first time, he felt safe.
At ten, both boys stood before the Command Council—the youngest ever to claim the twin sigils of Commander. Cloaked in obsidian and ember, Rael faced the assembled guardians with a defiant grin. Beside him, Kieran's silence carried more might than any speech. When the seals ignited, the world whispered a new legend: the Infernal Prince and the Silent Tempest.
A year later, the first World Gate shattered open above their heads. Twisting darkness poured out; Kieran fell under a demon's crushing talon. Time slowed for Rael as he hurtled forward, hands ablaze with cursed flame. He seized Kieran's broken body and willed his wounds away—absorbing agony like a black hole.
Rael collapsed into nothingness, drifting through the void in endless dream. Six years passed without sun or star, until a second Gate roared to life at sixteen. Kieran fought alone on a blood-soaked field, chest heaving, limbs failing. He called Rael's name into the roar: "Rael—please!"
Then Rael's hand slammed into the demon's skull, and he tumbled back into reality. "Dumbass, are you here for a game?" Rael grinned, eyes flickering with cosmic light. Kieran could only laugh through tears as the two rose, fitted their demonic masks, and charged.
Fire and water danced together in their hands—wind and shadow bending to their will. They tore the Gate apart, defeated the Void Lord, and heralded a new dawn. When the dust settled, Kieran peeled off his mask first and flung it aside. Rael followed, cheeks flushed with triumph.
At the Veyne manor, Kieran's mother swept Rael into a fierce hug. His adoptive father ruffled his hair and chided him for risking another coma. "Next time," Mrs. Veyne teased, "bring your own soft pillow." Rael laughed, leaning into a warmth he'd never known.
That evening, beneath lantern-light, the Veyne couple broached the next step. "Ashura Divine Academy awaits," they said. "Two legends at its gates—imagine the trouble you'll cause." Rael and Kieran exchanged the same bright grin and answered as one: "Let's go."
Their laughter echoed into the night, sealing an unbreakable bond. Two boys, bound by fate and flame, stood ready to face the world—mask and heart aligned, their greatest story only beginning.