Raezhar.
A planet forgotten by stars and feared by gods. Its surface cracked and veined with luminous scars, glowing with an eerie pulse like the heartbeat of a dying titan. The atmosphere was dense with ash and silence, with only the sound of distant thunder and the occasional whisper of wind through jagged rock formations.
This was where the brothers fell.
And somehow, this place had waited for them.
Smoke. Silence. A field of dusk.
That was all that welcomed Ryu and Luto as they awoke on the hardened plains of Raezhar.
No words.
No tears.
Just the taste of blood in their mouths, and the ache of loss pressing against their chests.
Ryu stumbled first, coughing, his hands scraping against cracked obsidian soil. His bandana—once vibrant, now torn—fluttered limply behind him.
Across from him, Luto stood still.
Silent. Shaking.
They were alive. But it didn't feel like survival.
"You—" Ryu's voice cracked, raw with disbelief. "Why'd you pull me away?!"
Luto's head turned slightly. His eyes were cast in shadow. "If I didn't… you'd be dead too."
"You think I care about that?!" Ryu snapped, stepping forward. "We were supposed to be together, Luto! All three of us!"
"I know!" Luto's voice trembled. For the first time, he broke. "But Onyx… Onyx would've done the same. He knew what it meant!"
"You don't know that," Ryu growled, fists clenched so tightly they bled. "You don't know what he wanted. You just left him!"
"I chose you!"
The words struck harder than any blade.
And for a long moment, the world held still.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them breathed.
They were both right.
They were both wrong.
And now… they were both alone.
They didn't realize the wind had changed until it brushed against their skin. It wasn't sharp like before. It was warm. Ancient. Embracing.
A hush fell over the land as the sky dimmed into a deep, twilight hue.
Then—he appeared.
A man stood upon the steps of a fractured temple, his cloak tattered but flowing like smoke. His skin was carved obsidian laced with veins of silver light, and his gaze held the calm gravity of a dying star. Spiral markings wrapped around his arms, glowing faintly like constellations trapped in flesh.
He had been watching.
Waiting.
"Quite the performance," the man said, voice smooth like wind over old stone. "Very dramatic."
Ryu turned sharply. "Who the hell are you?"
"A ghost," the man smiled. "Or a shepherd. Call me Caelivar."
Luto narrowed his eyes. "You live here?"
"I keep the shrine," Caelivar said, motioning toward the looming ruins behind him. "Been here for a long time. Longer than you'd believe."
The brothers slowly stepped forward. The temple—half-buried in starlit dust—felt sacred and strange, untouched by time. Despite the ruin, a strange energy clung to the stones. It was clear Caelivar had been its only occupant for ages. As if… he knew one day they would come.
"Why now?" Luto asked.
Caelivar looked up toward the stars. "Because the world has shifted. And your brother… the one left behind?"
Ryu froze.
"He's not dead," Caelivar said.
The wind stopped.
"But he's not alive either—not yet. The gods have him. They'll break him, reshape him, and bind his will. They want to forge an executioner… from what's left of his soul."
Luto's voice was barely audible. "Onyx…"
"I can't save him," Caelivar said, stepping closer. "But you can. Someday. If you survive."
The brothers looked at one another. Bruised. Torn. Shattered. But still standing.
"Train us," Ryu said, voice shaking with determination. "Please."
"We're not afraid of pain," Luto added.
Caelivar studied them quietly.
Then he knelt, pressing his palm to the earth. Symbols flared outward in radiant rings. The land around the shrine began to shift, revealing a hidden path—a training ground carved into the very bones of the planet.
"The road will break you," Caelivar said. "It will burn your souls and bury your past. But if you survive… you'll become more than rebels. You'll become something the gods fear."
Somewhere far away…
Chains echoed in silence.
A golden realm stretched endlessly beneath celestial arches. Marble spires reached the sky like blades. This was the Hall of the Seven Thrones—the dominion of gods.
But only two Thrones were filled.
Onyx stirred within a containment field of null-energy, blood trailing down his side. His breathing was labored. His arms restrained.
Arkann—bloodied, battered—hung nearby, suspended in place by divine bindings.
"They'll come for you," Arkann whispered. "But not to save. Not yet."
Onyx's eyes flickered open, vision hazy. "Where…?"
"This is where monsters are made," Arkann coughed.
Then—they arrived.
A procession of light. Divine aura flooding the hall as a blade-wielding god stepped forward. His eyes were like twin suns, unblinking and cruel.
The god sneered.
"You defied divine law," he said, voice layered with echoing authority.
Arkann didn't flinch.
And then, without ceremony—without a word—
The blade fell.
Arkann's body collapsed.
Ripped from life by divine decree.
Onyx screamed.
But no sound came. His voice had been sealed.
And the gods smiled.
"Prepare the subject," the solar-eyed god commanded. "His will shall be reforged."
They dragged Onyx downward.
Past the thrones. Past the golden halls. Into a tunnel carved of blackened stone. No light followed.
Only whispers.
Only darkness.
He descended into a void where identity dies. Where soldiers are born.
Where the gods birth monsters.
One week later…
Back on Raezhar, the shrine had become a furnace of trials.
Ryu slammed into a wall of stone, gasping. His shirt torn, muscles bruised. Luto, across from him, was unconscious—surrounded by shattered glyphs and lightning residue.
Caelivar stood above them, unmoved.
"You will never save your brother as you are now," he said.
Ryu forced himself up, one eye swollen shut. "We're not giving up."
Luto coughed blood but nodded. "Not until we're strong enough… to stand against gods."
Their wounds bled. Their limbs ached. But neither turned away.
Not now.
Not ever.
Above them, Raezhar's cracked sky shuddered with distant thunder.
The path was set.
And beneath the stars—
Ten years passed.