Chapter 1: The Night Everything Ended
---
The forest was wrong that night.
Even the air seemed to listen.
A small family moved through the dark woods, the cold biting sharper with every step. Their horse refused to go another inch—ears pinned back, hooves digging into the earth as if the shadows themselves told it not to enter.
With no choice left, they searched for shelter and found a small cave tucked behind a curtain of roots. Inside, the night felt heavy but quiet. Safe enough.
A campfire crackled to life, throwing soft light across the stone walls.
James brushed the dirt from his hands, exhaustion pulling at his features.
James: "I think this place is good enough to rest tonight."
Strom: "But Dad… it's a dark cave."
Rose (lifting Strom into her arms): "It's okay, sweetie. I'm here. Nothing will hurt you."
Strom curled between them as sleep tugged at his eyes. The fire's glow softened. The forest exhaled. His mother hummed a quiet melody. His father whispered a small joke meant only for the dark.
Peace lasted only a few hours.
A sound—too small to be a threat, too strange to be nothing—pulled Strom from sleep.
The coals pulsed.
The shadows leaned closer.
Something in the air felt wrong.
Strom: "Mom? Dad?"
He reached for their hands.
Cold.
Still.
Wrong.
Strom: "Wake up… please wake up…"
He shook them, small fingers gripping larger ones that did not respond. No breath. No warmth. Only silence swallowing the cave.
The scream that tore from him wasn't a word—it was a world collapsing.
He cried until his voice cracked. He shook them until his arms trembled. He begged until begging was all he remembered.
But nothing changed.
His parents were gone.
A child became an orphan in the heart of the forest.
Then movement—soft and deadly—slithered through the cave's entrance. A snake, scales black as the night itself, flicked its tongue toward Strom.
He stumbled back in terror, tears and fear blurring his vision. He turned, running blindly—
—and crashed into something tall. Someone old. Someone solid.
A hand steadied him.
A cloak brushed against his cheek.
---
Unknown Man: "What are you doing here boy."
He knelt, lowering his face to Strom's trembling height.
Strom threw himself into the stranger's robes, sobbing into the fabric.
Strom: "They won't wake up…"
The stranger's voice softened.
Unknown Man: "What's your name, son?"
Strom (sobbing): "Strom…"
Unknown Man: "It's okay. I'm with you… at any cost."
The words sank into the boy's heart like a nail—sharp, unforgettable, final.
The stranger wrapped his arms around Strom, shielding him from the cold, from the forest, from the world that had just taken everything.
For the first time since the screaming began, Strom stopped trembling.
But the night outside the cave did not.
Chapter 2: Power and Death
The unknown man turned out to be a wizard, known in whispers and avoided in crowds. But to Strom, he became teacher, shelter, food, and the only face left in his world.
Years passed like stacked firewood.
Strom learned the blade first:
How to cut only what he meant to cut.
How to strike with intent, not fear.
He learned the forest next:
How to move without being seen,
How to gather twice what he hunted,
How to read the river as if it carried words.
And sometimes — when the wizard's mood shifted like clouds before a storm — Strom learned magic.
He learned sparks.
He learned breath.
He learned restraint.
On Strom's thirteenth birthday, the wizard called him to the worktable. Five stones lay there, each glowing with its own weather.
Red – Fire.
Green – Earth.
Purple – Dark.
Yellow – Gold.
Blue – Dragon Aura.
Wizard - "Choose wisely. This will shape who you are."
Strom didn't hesitate. His hand reached for the blue stone, the one that hummed like a mountain's heartbeat. The moment he touched it, the glow flared, and Strom felt something pulse near his heart.
The wizard's mouth twitched—approval, maybe warning, Strom couldn't tell. He crafted a pendant to hold the stone and placed it in Strom's hand.
Wizard - "The world is yours now, kid. But every legendary warrior needs a weapon."
Strom - "A weapon?"
Wizard - "Yes. A blade forged by its own holder. Treat it like a tool and you will lose. But if it becomes a part of you… no one can stop you."
That night, Strom hammered at metal for the first time. A simple blade. Thick grip, straight back, nothing fancy. The house was open to the cool darkness, the rhythmic ring of the anvil echoing through the trees.
When he returned to the house… the ringing had stopped.
"Master?" Strom called. His voice bounced off the walls.
He found the wizard on the floor. Blood soaked his robes. Strom dropped beside him instantly, grabbing his hand.
"M-Master—!"
The wizard's eyes locked onto his face one last time.
Wizard - "I'm… sorry, son… that demon was… too str—"
His voice broke apart. His hand went still.
Strom's breath hitched. His world shrank again.
A figure leaned against the doorway, almost casual.
A demon. Eyes like burning coal. A smile stacked with too many teeth.
Demon - "Nice experiment, boy. See you soon."
Smoke folded around it. Then it vanished.
Silence swallowed the room.
Strom clenched the wizard's hand, tears burning, teeth grinding. First his parents. Now his master. All taken by the same kind of monster.
His pendant glowed bright. His eyes lit with blue fire.
Strom - "Always the demons… ALWAYS THEM."
His voice hit the walls like cold steel. His heartbeat thundered with power. The Dragon Aura awakened inside him, shaking the air.
Chapter 3: Tower of Slayers
Grief hardened into purpose.
Purpose needed a place where it could grow teeth.
The Tower of Slayers stood where the city's shadow ended, a fortress of stone and reputation. Newcomers came to prove they weren't just noise. The rule was ancient, unchanged for centuries:
Bring back a demon's head.
Strom - "A demon head? Okay."
He didn't return with just a head.
He came dragging the whole thing—horns scraping stone, claws leaving gouges, hide torn by long, precise cuts. He hauled the corpse into the courtyard and let it crash at the examiners' boots.
No one spoke for a moment.
Then the whispers started.
"What is he?"
"His eyes… look at his eyes."
"Dragon Aura," someone breathed, like a priest speaking a forbidden name.
Two faces stepped out of the crowd.
One was Sam. A mage with steady hands, calm eyes, and a quiet smile that said he'd lived through storms and didn't fear new ones. He gave Strom a single nod—approval without show.
The other was Knull, a knight with a jaw like carved stone and a personality sharp enough to cut armor.
Knull - "A kid who thinks he carries the world on his shoulders, huh? Let's see if you survive a hand-to-hand combat."
Strom set his blade aside.
The circle widened.
The air tightened.
Two fighters stepped in.
Knull came first—heavy, fast, trained to crush. His fists swung like metal strike, elbows like blunt axes.
Strom moved colder. Quicker. Something inside him paced like a chained beast. He slipped under a hook and drove a palm into Knull's ribs. The knight grunted, stepping back.
Strom didn't.
He pressed forward, a flurry of strikes—each one sharp, measured, controlled… until they weren't.
Until speed blurred.
Until Knull's guard cracked.
Until the knight's knees bent and the crowd gasped—
"Enough!" someone shouted, and hands rushed in, pulling Strom back before he broke more than pride.
Sam stepped forward, impressed and concerned.
Sam - "You're dangerous, kid."
Strom - "So I passed the test, right?"
Sam - "God damn yes. We need warriors like you."
For the first time since his childhood ended, Strom had a place. A roof. A path. A direction.
But more than that—
he had a plan.
A plan built from fire and memory.
A plan sharpened by loss.
A plan painted with demon blood.
Demons killed without reason. Demons took everything from him.
And Strom swore he would return the favor.
Every drop.
Every life.
Every last one of them.
Chapter 4: The Demon Hunt
Rumors bled through the Tower like ink in water.
A demon had been seen near the edge of the southern jungles — a demon whose grin matched a memory Strom wished he could kill, a shadow shaped like the night that stole his master's last breath.
Strom packed without a word.
Every movement was clean, practiced, cold.
Mage found him at the gate.
Sam - "I know I can't stop you… but leave that part."
Strom - "What part?"
Sam - "The part that thinks rage is a blade you can hold without cutting yourself. Don't let it guide you. It will eat you alive."
Strom tightened the strap on his gauntlet, jaw locked.
Strom - "If rage kills it faster, then I don't care."
Sam looked at him the way a man watches a ship leaving harbor in a storm — powerless, hoping the sea shows mercy.
Sam - "I hope you do."
Strom didn't answer.
He stepped past the gate, boots hitting dirt like hammer strikes.
The road south swallowed days.
Birds sang unfamiliar songs.
The jungles shifted from green to darker green, old trees knitting the sky shut above him.
The pendant against his chest stayed warm, as if it recognized where he was going.
As if it had opinions.
As if it wanted the same thing he did.
Revenge.
Chapter 5 – Angela
The jungle breathed in damp and green. Vines wrote slow letters across trunks. Insects threaded the air with lines of sound. Strom moved like a knife through cloth.
Then he heard it.
A scream—no shape, only pain, the kind that drags the body without asking the feet. Strom froze, breath caught halfway to his lungs. He had learned to weigh traps against mercy. He had learned to choose the knife.
He took one step back.
Then forward again.
Strom - "I can't leave someone like that."
He ran. The trees tore at him; he pushed through. The ground fell away into a small clearing where the canopy lifted just enough to let moonlight find the broken things below.
A girl lay there, young and swallowed by a night too big for her. Her clothes were torn, stained with blood—some hers, some not. Around her, three demon beasts circled, their bodies a knot of old scars and fresh hunger.
Strom didn't think twice, without hesitation he leaped at the demonic beasts. He hated them more than anything.
The first beast was sliced in half.
Then second one got its skull cracked.
But the third one—Strom ripped the beast apart.
Silence returned, ragged.
Strom knelt beside the girl. Her breathing was shallow but steady. He sheathed his sword and lifted her, careful of the places pain had already claimed. She was light in his arms, a shape made of questions he would answer later.
He carried her to a river that laced the jungle like silver. Kneeling on the stones, he set her down and worked with the surety of old lessons—clean water, steady hands, herbs crushed between fingers until their scent rose green and sharp. He bound the worst cuts with strips torn from his cloak and cooled her brow.
Her eyes fluttered open. Fear filled them, then saw the careful, slow way his hands moved and softened.
Strom – Don't worry, I won't hurt you.
Something in the promise felt iron, even to him. The girl's mouth trembled. A single word fell out like a heartbeat breaking: "Mom..."
Strom looked away to give her privacy for grief. The river said nothing, which was kind.
After a while he asked, "What happened?"
Her voice came in pieces. "There's a demon... he used to protect us. A bargain my family made long ago. He wanted... more. Power. Something called Dragon Aura. He couldn't get it. He changed. He—" She swallowed. "My mother tried to run. He—" She didn't finish. "I escaped, but his beasts found me."
Strom – He will regret being born.
She stared at him for a while. He looked like someone ready to die just for a promise. She believed him.
"Angela," she said, as if giving him something of value. "My name is Angela."
"Strom."
Angela – There is one thing, his weakness.
Strom – What?
Angela – His spine. His pride made him careless with it. He... keeps it unarmored. It lets him move faster. That's his weakness.
Strom with a twisted smile – Good. Thanks.
Chapter 6 – Breaking the Beast
The demon's castle rose from the jungle like a tooth. Angela led with sure steps toward the dark shape—it had always been there, she said, just hidden by the way most people didn't want to see it.
They crossed a causeway where the river fought the stone. Gargoyles watched with patient contempt. Strom felt the pendant thrum higher, a drumbeat under his skin.
Doors taller than trees swung open before they touched them. The demon came out laughing.
Demon – "So the experiment brings a guest, a boy with someone to lose again. Good. Good."
Strom – I'm not losing today, but you will. Your life.
The demon moved first—a blur of claw, tail, and teeth. Strom's world slowed. Each attack was a question; he answered. Blade met talon.
He pressed in. A cut along the arm, shallow but loud. A kick to a knee, the joint stuttering. The demon snarled, the hall vibrating with it, and reached for the weapon rack set into the wall.
Angela gasped. Strom didn't look away from the demon's eyes. The pendant sang. Gold-blue light crawled up the edges of his sword, soft as a halo and hard as a promise.
They collided. Sparks scattered. The demon's strength was something inhuman, but Strom had something more terrifying—the pain of losing someone.
Angela – Strom! Spine.
With a crushing blow, Strom landed a strong punch straight on the demon's spine. The sound of bones cracking was terrible.
The demon fell to his knees, his world shattered in seconds. Once a powerful demon, now helpless. But Strom didn't stop. He launched an uppercut straight on the demon's jaw to brutalize him, making him crash hard on the rocks.
But Strom wanted more. He wanted the demon to beg for mercy. He leaped on him again and punched him on the face over and over until his own knuckles bleeds. Then.....
Cracccccccck!!!!!
He broke the demon's horns clean, then kept beating because the fire of vengeance was still burning.
Angela (her hands on his face, eyes wide in fear) – Stop! You are not a monster.
The words hit harder than any strike. The pendant warmed against his skin, the light softening. He blinked, and some corner of him returned from where the heat had driven it.
He lowered his hand and stepped back. Angela bent, picked up the demon's fallen blade, and with quiet finality ended the fight herself—swift, clean, no cruelty. She stood for a long breath, shoulders rising and falling, then let the weapon drop to the stone.
Angela – It's done, Strom. It's done.
Everyone thinks that a demon is the most terrifying thing because it's equal to death, but when Strom is angry, he is worse than a demon itself.
Chapter 7 - A Fragile Peace
Their way seprate, Angela live in her castle when Strom returns to the Wizard's house , but there is one thing the bond between them Angla visit him more often because Strom was only one left in her life, but Strom he was Busy everytime in killing demons but when Angela with him he don't want to fight anyone
In Wizard's old house:-
Angela - You've changed Strom! See no Anger no pain
Strom - Maybe I'm learning to live again
"But Someone has to stop the demons," he added after a while, staring into the coals as if they could argue back. "What we did here-that was one. There are others."
Angela - But there are people for that, You don't have to be the blade for every cut
Strom - When I chose the Dragon Aura, I decided to Protect the innocent. At any cost, this stone makes my identity
Angela - "People are afraid of you because of how you fight, They think you're a monster in human skin. You don't need a gem to be Strom.
Strom didn't flinch - "I don't care what they think. What matters is you. And my friend Sam. "Nothing else."( Walking away)
Angela - Where are you going?
Strom - I'll be back in moments, please wait for me
He leaves Angela in his home and walks away because the truth is better
Chapter 8 – Blood and Chains
Evening had slipped most of its light when Strom returned. But something felt wrong because the house door was split open and there was dead silence.
Strom – "Angela?"
Inside, the house wasn't the same. Marks of a big, sharp blade were everywhere. Blood spilled across the floor. And the worst… Angela was missing but Then he saw something…
Angela's scarf.
Strom knelt and picked it up. The cloth was cold. He closed his eyes and inhaled. It smelled like smoke and river and something he refused to name.
He started following the marks that led to the back door. Something felt wrong there. When he stepped out…
"There!" someone shouted. "It's him—the dragon-eyed killer!"
Ropes would have been a courtesy. Chains of enchanted steel snaked like living things, coiling around his arms, his chest, his throat. The pendant flared in protest, then dimmed as the chains bit. Strom strained once, twice—no give. The magic was designed to lay blankets over fires.
"Where is she?" he shouted. "Where is Angela?"
No one answered. He saw fear in their faces—simpler, easier than the fear of the dark.
They dragged him through streets that pretended they'd never seen him before. A cell door took him without asking. The chains sang to themselves.
Night thickened. Footsteps slid down the corridor, slow and soft. A key scraped. The door opened just enough to let a shadow through—a figure in a hood. Small. Quick. The chains slackened, one by one, as nimble hands found locks and old tricks did what new magic could not.
The figure turned to flee. Strom moved faster. He caught a wrist, spun, and pushed the hood back.
He forgot how to move.
"Angela?"
She looked like Angela. Her face. Her height. Her hair catching the stray light. But her eyes were wrong—empty of the person he knew, filled instead with… nothing. Like a mirror in a room with no one in it. When she spoke, her voice was hollow but filled with something horrible.
Angela - Follow me, Strom!.
He followed, because not following would have felt like dying in a new way. They slipped through alleys into trees, and then the trees thinned and the horizon gathered itself into a shape of stone and malice—a black fortress like a candle burned to a stub and left to harden in its own soot.
The Black Candlen Castle.
Chapter 9 – The Truth Revealed
The throne room of Black Candlen did not bother pretending it was anything but what it was—a place made to make small those who entered. The ceiling lost itself above them. Columns rose like fingers ready to close. The floor took the sound of each step and broke it into echoes.
On the throne sat someone unexpected...
The Wizard.
Strom's breath hitched and refused to go on. "You," he said, not trusting the word and using it anyway.
The wizard smiled, waiting for him, and wanting something...
The Wizard – "My greatest experiment walks in alive. Wonderful."
Strom – "What have you done with Angela?"
His voice came out a growl he didn't remember learning.
The wizard lifted a finger. The not-Angela swayed forward a step, like a minion, a walking body but no soul.
Strom - "Angela!!!!"
Wizard – "She was never real. Just a puppet, to keep your heart intact until I needed it broken. And look—perfect result."
Strom's fingers dug crescents into his palms. – "No, no—you're lying."
"Oh, I never lie about perfection," the wizard said.
Wizard (walking down) – "You want truth? Fine. Here is a gift."
He stopped an arm's length away. His voice dropped so low the stone had to lean in to hear it.
Wizard (venoms) – "Your father was stubborn. Your mother was… a fool. That poor guy tried to fight me, and she begged me to not kill you until her last breath. They did not understand what I was building."
He let the words hang, heavy as a blade. "Weakness breeds weakness. You were my answer. A blank slate forged from tragedy. And look at you now—exactly what I wanted. You are my monster."
Something old and cold inside Strom cracked open. The Dragon Aura answered.
Strom – "I am not your monster. I am your Death."
The wizard's grin widened until it wasn't a human expression anymore.
Chapter 10 – A Monster
He changed as if remembering what he really was. Bones rearranged with the dry clatter of a thousand doors unlocking at once. Skin took on scale. Wings tore their way into the world like sails opening in a storm. In moments, the wizard was not a man but a dragon, black as a moonless thought, eyes burning a red that made the room colder, not warmer.
Strom ( Shocked) - "What? This is your reality."
Dragon – "Fight me, my creation."
Strom raised his sword. The pendant shone until it was hard to look at.
Strom ( blind in rage ) – "I'll end you."
The dragon moved, and the castle learned what wind was. A claw swiped, but Strom dodged. He struck, but dragon scale was too hard.
Flame came to burn souls, but the Dragon Aura pendant created a barrier that protected him.
Dragon – "Incredible!."
The dragon's tail finally got him. He crashed too hard, straight into a pillar.
Strom fell, brain breaking the fight into pieces. The head—too strong. Chest—armored. Wings—soft. Tail—fast but predictable. Ear—slit. He stored each fact like a coin.
The dragon reared, fire gathering in its throat. Strom sprinted, flames chasing his boots, then came Claw.
But Strom didn't attack. He saw opportunity, jumped on the claw, then leapt onto the left wing.
He drove his sword in and slid down, cutting the membrane until he fell to the floor.
The dragon wasn't ready for that, but Strom didn't stop.
He climbed up, stabbing dragon scales with full strength all the way until he reached its head.
Strom ripped the blade free and slid down, landing hard, knees jarring. The dragon slammed a claw down where he had been. Stone shattered. He rolled and came up facing the chest, where a glow pulsed behind the armor, faint and terrible.
Strom – "The stone, ALWAYS THE STONE!."
He went for it. The first strike threw off sparks and nothing else.
The second dug shallow.
The third—he built, gathering everything he was and everything he refused to be, pouring it into a line no one else in the world could have drawn. The pendant blazed, the light around him so bright his own shadow fled.
The blow landed. The chest plate cracked with a sound like night breaking.
The glow faltered, then burst like a held breath leaving, and the dragon's body collapsed in on itself. Scales faded to skin, limbs shrank, until the wizard lay on the stone, human again, in the way an old knife looks like a toy after you've seen what it can do.
He coughed blood, broken, and for the first time fear in his eyes.
Wizard – Together!, Strom, we could rule. Everything.
Strom reached to his neck, unclasped the Dragon Aura pendant, and set it lightly on the wizard's chest.
Strom – "This stone saved me from you, but it won't save you from what you made me."
He looked at his hands. They were scarred and strong and shaking. He closed them into fists, not to strike but to keep them from forgetting where to be.
Strom – For my mother. (Punch)
—For my father. (Punch)
—For the boy you tried to break. (Punch)
—For Angela—whoever she truly was. (Punch)
—He leaned closer, the words finding weight. – For every lie you told. (Punch)
He did not rain blows until the world went red. He did not lose himself the way the wizard had always wanted. Strom didn't become the monster.
The Wizard (dying) – One day you will be like me...
Strom – No! I'm nothing like you.
The castle trembled. Stones remembered gravity. A fissure ran up the nearest column like a snake finding its tree.
From the pendant, smoke rose, then a voice echoed in the great hall...
Voice – You've carried enough pain, son!
The voice said, low and warm, as hands stronger than they looked lifted Strom to his feet.
– Rest now, it's just a beginning.
Strom wanted to argue. About wars. About beginnings, but the word "Son" was too pure. He couldn't argue.
He let the figure guide him out as Black Candlen shook itself apart behind them, the night pressing close to scatter the dust.
Aftermath
Strom finally reached the real exit following the smoke, the smoke figure went back to the pendant is Strom's neck.
Wind moved through the leaves like a thousand quiet hands. The stars were as they had been the night he lost everything and the night he found something anyway. He touched the place on his neck where the pendant had hung, felt the bare skin, and didn't know if it felt like loss or like a promise finally kept.
Sam's voice came back to him, a steady echo: Don't let rage guide you. It will eat you alive.
He looked back and there she was the broken stone statue of Angela...
Strom - "You are always my Angel."
Strom closed his eyes and let himself remember the river's sound, Angela's palm warm against his cheek, Sam's calm, the wizard's smile cracking at last, and the feeling when a blow lands not because of hate but because of duty.
He opened his eyes on a new night.
Strom-dragon-eyed, iron-hearted, no one's monster-walked forward.
End of ARC 0 - The Origin....