"Run, Ignis, run! Don't worry about us—just run, please run! You must take revenge for our
sufferings. Don't look back, just run!"
The air was thick with the scent of blood. Flames devoured everything—fire upon fire. The
cries of people echoed all around. Where am I? A cold touch…
"Wake up, Ignis! How long will you sleep? Captain Clement is calling you. Hurry up!"
The sweet voice grew louder, pulling him from the haze.
Ignis woke with a jerk and stared aimlessly through the windowpane. The sun looked
especially pleasant today, the river flowed gently, and nature seemed calm and charming.
The cold breeze brushed against the trees, waving as if to say a very good morning.
"Oh… then it was just a dream. But it looked so realistic. Did that really happen to me?"
"What are you thinking about, Ignis? We're already late!"
"Oh, it's you. By the way, what time is it now, Chief?"
"It's already 8:30. Now get ready quickly."
Chief Minata, a medium-height young woman, was tasked with gathering all the cadets on
the training ground. Usually, she was friendly with the cadets, but sometimes her temper
flared at the sight of indiscipline—something she could never tolerate. Still, every cadet liked
and respected her very much.
"Ring, ring, ring!"
Every morning, cadets were required to gather fifteen minutes before 10:00 a.m. The
trainees were known as Askers, and their training routines were always predetermined by
the core members. This year, the number of cadets seemed larger than ever—over a
hundred.
Ignis glanced around with curiosity. Today, Captain Clement was unusually late. The cadets
filled the silence with chatter, some whispering in small groups, while others stretched and
warmed up, preparing themselves for the day ahead.
"Attention! Cadets, fall in and hold your positions—the Captain is here!" Commander Swart's
sharp voice cut through the chatter. He scanned the lineup, then raised a hand, signaling for
silence.
Commander Swart was known as a tough but fair trainer, someone who drilled rules and
discipline into his cadets with precision. His long white coat, buttoned neatly at the sleeves,
and his black-rimmed glasses gave him a stern look. Around thirty or forty, he carried himself
with the strength of a soldier—muscular, confident, and sharp-eyed. Despite his good looks,
he had never married, too devoted to his duty.
"Ignis, how are you holding up today? That wound on your chest—does it still hurt?" a
friendly voice asked from behind.
Ignis turned with a faint smile. "I'm alright. What about you, Butch? Have you seen Erina
anywhere?"
Butch shook his head. "No, but I'm pretty sure she's out here somewhere."
"Quiet!" Clement's voice rang out as he stepped forward. "Now, listen to me carefully.
That day, Clement seemed troubled. His voice was harsher, his discipline tighter. His gray
coat, heavy with rank badges, hung loose on his frame, and beads of sweat rolled down his
bald head.
"As you all know," he began, his tone steady but grave, "we are here to train you. But today, I
want to tell you a story. Some of you may have heard parts of it, but I believe it will give you
strength and remind you of your purpose."
His eyes glinted sharp and cold, as if they could cut straight into the soul.
"Long ago, this earth was shaped by our founder—Lord Condor. In his age, the world was
full of peace. Rivers ran clear and sweet, seas stretched wide and calm, and the lands were
rich with green fields. But Condor had not foreseen one thing: in a world without pain or
anger, people lived in perfect harmony… and their numbers grew beyond measure,
threatening to break the balance of life.
It was then that his brother, Emipherus, rose. To restore balance, he forged the Seven Pillars
of Sin. Each one carried a shadow—the Pillar of Sorrow, the Pillar of Wrath, the Pillar of
Deception, the Pillar of Sloth, the Pillar of Jealousy, the Pillar of Greed, and the Pillar of
Horror. When these were released into human hearts, everything changed. The gentle
became cruel. Wars began. Civilizations fell. Blood covered the earth, and the world was
never the same again."
Clement paused, drawing in a slow breath before continuing.
"Enraged by what he saw, Lord Condor struck down the pillars. And so began the greatest
war in all of creation. For three hundred million years, Condor and Emipherus clashed,
shaking the very bones of the world. Mountains rose and shattered under their blows. Seas
boiled and raged, swallowing whole lands. The skies split with fire, thunder, and storm as
their fury tore across the heavens. Stars dimmed. The earth itself cried beneath their wrath.
Neither yielded. Condor's light burned brighter than the sun, while Emipherus's darkness
spread like endless night. Their battle was not of men, but of gods—the clash of creation and
ruin.
At last, Emipherus fell. But in his final breath, he drove the Sword of Execution through
Condor's chest—a cursed blade from which no life can return.
Even as his strength failed, Condor tried to draw the darkness out of humankind. He could
not remove it all, but he tore much of it away. Before his last breath, he scattered the broken
pieces of the Seven Pillars to the corners of the earth and hid the weapons forged in that
terrible war.
When it was over, the flowers bloomed again. The fires died. Lord Condor's body lay still
upon the grass, sunlight warming his face. And though his life had ended, a gentle smile
remained… as if he had given all he had to keep the world alive."
"Captain! I have a question. May I ask?" Warren's voice broke the tense silence, calm but
firm.
"Yes, you may," Clement's deep voice carried across the field, instantly commanding
attention.
"How… how did you know all of this? And how can you be sure the story is true?" Warren
pressed.
"Good question," the Captain replied. "I don't claim that every detail is perfect. Some parts
may be legend, others fact. But our ancestors recorded what they could in old books, and
those records survive even now."
"Then why are we training?" Ignis asked, his voice steady but curious. "The war is over… so
what's the threat?"
Clement's gaze hardened, his voice dropping heavy. "What kind of question is that, Ignis?
We train to protect our people, to take responsibility for their safety." He paused, his tone
softening, almost wistful. "After the war, the world found peace—but it did not last.
"About two thousand years ago, a young man named Lucious Craneas found one of those
old books, preserved in the Monument of the Great War. He learned of the Seven Pillars
hidden across the earth—and he set out to find them. Over time, he discovered three: the
Pillar of Greed, the Pillar of Jealousy, and the Pillar of Wrath.
"The Pillar of Horror, though, holds the greatest power. All other negative emotions flow from
it. If the seven pillars are brought together, the one who controls them can bend humanity
itself. Craneas' goal was simple: to gather all seven.
"Not only that, he found a stone called the Soul Manipulator. With it, he could touch any
person and transform them into a demonic creature. With just a touch, it could twist any
person's spirit and turn them into a demonic creature. Those creatures began calling
themselves the Hellbornes—children of darkness, born from human hatred and fear.
The Hellbornes spread destruction wherever they went. Villages burned, rivers ran red, and
the cries of the innocent filled the night. They thrived on negative emotions. Whenever anger
or terror took root in a settlement, the Hellbornes appeared.
But one thing remained certain—they only walked under the cover of night."
Clement's eyes swept across the cadets, serious and steady.
"That is why we train. The war may be over, but the threat has never truly disappeared. We
are here to defeat the Hellbornees before they attack humanity."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. Then, with a firmer tone, he commanded:
"By the way, I'm done. Now, start your training."
Clement becomes extremely strict when he trains us. Our training is divided into three main
steps. First, a two-kilometer run to build endurance. Next, intense exercises to make our
bodies strong and flexible. Finally, we move on to martial arts.
Each cadet can choose their focus—swordplay, staff combat, or unarmed martial arts.
Captain Clement is skilled in nearly all forms and personally trains us in them. Commander
Swart, meanwhile, guides us to apply these skills to real-life situations, helping us visualize
challenges we might face and teaching us how to overcome them effectively.
Ignis, Butch, and Erina always trained together.
Butch specialized in Kung Fu, wearing a metal chest protector that gave him both defense
and confidence. At times, he also practiced swordplay, adding variety to his skills.
Erina, by contrast, was a natural with the sword. Her strikes were sharp and precise, and
alongside that, she was highly skilled in free-hand combat, making her a versatile fighter.
Ignis carried something unusual—a weapon known simply as the Blades. It was a long staff
tipped with blades on both ends, giving him extended reach while keeping enemies at a
distance. He handled it with expertise, moving it as if it were an extension of his own body.
Yet, he struggled in free-hand fighting, often relying on his speed to avoid direct clashes.
When danger appeared, he could sprint out of reach faster than anyone else.
"Hi, Ignis! So you're here. Feeling better now?" Erina stepped out from the crowd, curiosity in
her eyes.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ignis said with a small smile. "Thanks for saving me yesterday."
"No problem," she replied with a grin.
"Are you two gossiping out here?" Clement's voice cracked across the ground like thunder.
The cadets froze. His glare could have cut stone. "If you have that much energy to chat, then
all three of you will run an extra two kilometers!"
Ignis's face fell. "No, Captain! We were just about to start training. I… I'm not feeling well
today. Please don't punish us," he said, almost pleading.
"No mercy," Clement replied, voice sharp as a blade. "Complain again, and I'll make it four.
Move!"
Clement never bent once he made a decision.
The three had no choice. They broke into a run. Dust rose with every pounding step, sweat
pouring down their faces. The extra kilometers pushed them hard.
Halfway through, Butch groaned. "Remind me why I hang out with you two again?"
"Because you'd be lonely without us," Erina shot back without missing a stride.
Ignis smirked, gasping for air. "No, it's because he needs someone to laugh at when he falls
flat on his face."
"Keep talking," Butch growled, "and I'll make sure you do fall."
Erina chuckled. "Quiet, both of you. If Clement hears, we'll end up running till sunrise."
When the run ended, their punishment wasn't over. Body training came next—push-ups until
arms trembled, pull-ups that burned their muscles, rolls in the dirt, and striking heavy posts
until their knuckles ached.
"Argh, my arms are going to fall off," Butch complained.
"They won't," Erina said, striking again with perfect form. "You've still got your legs left."
Ignis, lying face-down after his fiftieth push-up, muttered, "At this rate, I'll just melt into the
dirt. Easy to clean up, at least."
Erina nudged him with her boot. "Don't collapse yet, puddle-boy."
The last stage was martial arts. Erina's sword carved clean arcs through the air, Butch
alternated between staff drills and quick blocks, and Ignis spun his Blades with sharp
precision, the twin ends flashing. But when it came to bare-handed sparring, Ignis fumbled
again.
"Too slow, Ignis!" Clement barked. "Speed is useless if your fists are weak!"
"See?" Erina teased while pinning him to the ground. "Without that fancy stick, you're just a
rabbit."
Ignis groaned. "At least rabbits know how to run."
After sunset, the others returned to their camp, but Ignis did not. He walked alone, hands
buried in his pockets, his expression serious. The moon hung nearly full in the sky, silver
light spilling across the streets. Lamps flickered along the road, casting golden pools on the
ground. People lingered near shops, whispering and laughing. From a few blocks away, the
muffled sounds of gambling and clinking coins drifted through the air. A gentle breeze swept
off the calm river, and the moon's reflection shimmered like liquid silver.
Ignis took a right turn. The light dimmed. The streets were quieter here, shadows stretching
longer. Dogs barked in the distance. He walked with steady purpose and stopped outside a
hospital. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door.
Inside, he climbed the stairs to the second floor and moved directly to room 106. The room
was spotless—white walls, polished floors. A young woman lay in bed, one leg in a cast. She
wore the patient gown, her dark brown hair neatly tied back. Her face was calm, almost
radiant despite her injury.
"Sis… can you respond?" Ignis asked softly, leaning over her bed.
Ava's eyes fluttered open. "I'm okay… Are you alright, Ignis?"
"I'm fine now. If you and Erina hadn't been there yesterday… I don't know what would have
happened," he said, a faint smile breaking through.
"Don't get all dramatic," Ava said, teasing lightly. "I told you—I've got your back, always."
Ignis chuckled softly, his tension easing slightly. "Thanks, Ava… my sis. I don't know what I'd
do without you."
Ava propped herself up on one elbow, adjusting her leg. "You worry too much. Besides, you
survived training today, didn't you? You're supposed to be tough."
Her playful tone made him smile faintly, though the memory of yesterday's events shadowed
him. Ava's voice softened. "Tell me, why did you challenge the A-class Lumos? Did they say
something to you?"
"They insulted my parents," Ignis admitted, his face darkening. "You know I've forgotten my
past. I don't even know if my parents are alive. But I can't tolerate insults… never." His voice
trembled as memories pressed in. "Aunty Lily raised me when I was ten… but she died of
tuberculosis. I was completely alone… except for you."
Ava reached for his hand. "No, my brother. You're not alone anymore. One day, everyone
will respect you. Don't sell yourself short—you have a bright future ahead."
Their quiet moment shattered with a sudden, deafening crash. The walls shook. Screams
erupted as people ran in every direction. "They've come! They'll kill us!"
Ignis reacted instantly, racing down the stairs to see what had happened. And then he froze.
Before him stood a mysterious creature. Its presence was overwhelming. The ground
beneath it seemed soaked in blood, the air heavy with the stench of death. Its eyes were
indifferent to everything. It wore a simple blue kimono, its expression haunted and
traumatized. The skin beneath its eyes was blackened, as if it hadn't slept for a long time. A
dark aura filled the place, and blood dripped from its long nails.
Ignis's heart slammed against his chest, sweat dripping from his pale face. Every muscle
tensed, every nerve screaming. The Hellborne's gaze locked onto him, unblinking and
terrifying. For the first time, Ignis understood the full meaning of fear.