Devil's sleep that night was far from peaceful.
Every time he closed his eyes, flames danced with streams of water, twisting together like serpents in an endless duel. But this time, something was different.
He found himself standing in an endless void, blacker than midnight. In the distance, fire shimmered like a beacon, while rippling circles of water whirled restlessly around him. A shape slowly emerged from the shadows—faceless, eyeless, yet undeniably present.
Its voice slithered into his ears, low and chilling:
"You have awakened what should have remained asleep."
Devil jolted awake with a gasp. His body was drenched in sweat, heart pounding as if trying to escape his chest.
This was no ordinary nightmare. He was certain now—someone, or something, was watching him.
---
The Grandfather's Curse
Devil had always known that magic ran in his family. But with magic came whispers—stories of darkness, fear, and death.
When he was little, he had heard tales about his grandfather. The villagers called him a magician, though most spoke the word in fear, not respect. They said he dabbled in black magic—rituals whispered at midnight, symbols drawn in blood, and lights glowing unnaturally through his windows when the rest of the world slept.
As a child, Devil believed his grandfather was a great sorcerer, a man of power and mystery. But one night shattered that image forever.
He was too young to remember clearly, yet fragments of the night clung to his memory like scars. People were shouting, crying, running toward their house. The air was thick with panic.
And then—silence, followed by a horror no one would ever forget.
Inside the house, his grandfather's body lay scattered across the floor, broken into what seemed like a hundred pieces. Blood painted the walls, the stench of iron and decay suffocating the room. It wasn't a murder any human could commit. No weapon, no beast, no explanation could account for such a gruesome end.
The villagers whispered that he had made a pact with something far beyond human understanding—something that had finally come to claim him.
Devil's mother never allowed him to forget that night. She would grip his shoulders, her eyes burning with fear, and repeat the same words:
"Never follow that path. Promise me. That road only leads to ruin."
But fate, it seemed, was determined to drag Devil toward the very darkness his grandfather had embraced.
---
Friends and Forbidden Practice
The next afternoon, Devil met his friends—Rick, Piu, and San—in the fields. The memory of the dream still gnawed at him, but he forced a smile.
Rick's eyes sparkled with excitement. "I still can't believe what you did last night! Fire and water? At the same time? That's insane!"
Piu, ever the cautious one, bit her lip. "But did you notice? The fire… it wasn't obeying you. It looked like it had a will of its own."
San, the quietest among them, nodded gravely. "I don't think you can handle this alone, Devil. Something is wrong. Very wrong."
Before Devil could respond, a sudden gust of wind swept over them. The leaves rustled in an eerie rhythm, as if whispering secrets only they could hear. Devil shivered.
That night, he returned to the field alone. The pull of magic was irresistible. He sat cross-legged, closing his eyes, calling upon fire and water once more. The flames rose, bright and wild. Water surged, bending under his will.
But then something unexpected happened.
From within the fire, a shadowy hand reached out, curling toward him with grasping fingers. The water twisted violently, as though trying to drown him. Devil gasped and broke the spell, collapsing to the ground, breathless and trembling.
And then came the voice again, deep and echoing through the air:
"You are not alone, Devil…"
Rick, Piu, and San rushed to him, alarmed by his scream. But when they looked around, they saw nothing—only Devil's terrified face, his eyes wide with horror.
---
The Heir's Burden
He told them everything. About the nightmares. About his grandfather's death. About the shadow that whispered warnings in the dark.
Piu's face turned pale. "Then… your grandfather's black magic—it's inside you now, isn't it?"
Rick frowned, though a crooked grin tugged at his lips. "Hey, come on. You're not cursed, Devil. You're… you're like a hero! And every hero has a team, right? Well, you've got us."
San's calm voice cut through the tension. "This isn't just about magic. This is your bloodline. Maybe… your journey is only beginning. And we'll walk it with you."
Devil wanted to believe them. He nodded silently, grateful for their support. But deep down, fear coiled in his chest.
What if his destiny wasn't to be a hero?
What if, like his grandfather, he was fated to be consumed by the very darkness he was trying to fight?
---
The Arrival of the Shadow
That night, when the village lay asleep under the pale glow of the moon, the field grew heavy with mist.
Devil stood in the center, fire and water swirling around him like restless spirits. He closed his eyes, focusing, trying to bring balance.
But this time, the shadow didn't stay hidden.
It emerged fully from the darkness—a towering figure of twisted black smoke, its body shifting like liquid night. Two burning red eyes glared at him, filled with hunger and malice.
The voice thundered like a storm:
"Your grandfather's end came by my hand, boy."
Devil's blood froze.
"Now it's your turn."
Fear surged through him, but he refused to step back. He raised his hand, summoning flame and water, forcing them to dance together in defiance.
Rick, Piu, and San burst into the field, gasping at the sight before them. The shadow loomed like a nightmare made flesh, its laughter echoing in the mist.
It tilted its head, grinning in a way no face should be able to grin.
"Let's begin the game."
---
Fire and water clashed together, surging toward the shadow in a wave of raw power. But the darkness swallowed them whole, devouring the elements as if they were nothing.
The world around Devil dimmed. His body was engulfed in choking blackness.
The last thing he heard was the shadow's voice, a guttural growl dripping with venom:
"Your grandfather's blood is incomplete. You will finish what he began."
Devil tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips.
Above him, the moon hung silently in the night sky—cold, distant, and uncaring. A witness to the storm that had only just begun.