Hamburg, Germany.
The raindrops sliding down the other side of the glass window felt offensive.
Everything felt offensive.
In that state, everything was offensive to him…
A few minutes earlier, Izumi—a young German citizen of Asian descent—had been at home studying for the Abitur. But when he paused to breathe and glanced at one of his mother's favorite plants, kept inside a glass jar and blooming with beautiful blue flowers…
The beautiful blue faded into nothing.
Absolute nothing—until even nothingness ceased to exist. There was no darkness, no light. Only the unsettling absence of trust in his own hearing.
Izumi lost his sight in a single blink.
And then everything around him became hostile. From the faint creak of the lobby's main door to the receptionist's call…
It was as if even the wind were pointing a knife at him; as if every person held a gun.
"Izumi, calm down…" said Ayumi, Izumi's mother.
She tried to soothe him as two people entered through the main doors. They were soaked, despite holding an umbrella. Fortunately for them, they didn't share Izumi's fate.
This was the DSSP — the Department of Security and Social Protection — where all matters related to Sefiras were handled.
Sefiras… A word that had once sounded heroic to ten-year-old Izumi. But now, to a young adult about to start a normal life, the word made him sick.
Heroes of a bygone era who still walked among men…
You're nothing but scum! he thought, recognizing that the two men who had just entered the DSSP were Sefiras.
The reason? Their presence, their scent, even the way they spoke.
Having lived with a Sefira, Izumi could flawlessly distinguish a Saint from an ordinary man.
The lobby was full of Sefiras, which only alarmed Izumi even more.
Because even though he was blind, Izumi's eyes were wide open—darting in random directions, as if he could see the threats surrounding him.
In reality, there were none. His mind was desperately searching for reasons to panic.
He squeezed his pants, trying to relieve the frustration.
His breathing grew rapid, out of rhythm.
"Izumi…" Ayumi called him, but her voice changed…
Not only hers—everyone's. Casual words lost their meaning, and only a single phrase echoed in Izumi's ears…
The sea is your north, said a distorted voice.
Again and again, pounding until it gave him a splitting headache.
It sounded robotic, yet angelic and flawless. Deep like a man's, or high like a woman's… Indistinguishable.
"Next!" the receptionist called through the microphone, the announcement blasting through the lobby speakers.
A man quickly stood up and walked to the service counter, separated by a glass window with a small hole for communication.
Izami, Izumi's father, rushed forward before someone else could take the spot. After all, being attended to quickly was crucial…
"Hello, I am the recep—"
"I need assistance. I have an S-Code in the family," Izami whispered.
The receptionist—who had looked exhausted and was only speaking out of obligation—suddenly jumped.
His soul seemed to return to his body.
Such news was always a blend of feelings: it could brighten or ruin his week…
"Are you certain?" he asked, bewildered.
"Absolutely."
Izami's desperate eyes left no room for doubt.
Without breaking eye contact, the receptionist pressed a black button on his right, activating an internal microphone.
His announcement echoed through every radio and private room:
"Attention! We have an S-Code in Sector One! Medical unit requested immediately!"
In the waiting room, a television was tuned to the general news channel. Suddenly, the German national broadcast overtook every program.
Not just in Germany—worldwide.
"This morning, December twenty-second, 2095, year ninety-five after the Demonic Corruption, reports of a new Revelation Wave are alarming young adults. According to our correspondent at the DSSP, five individuals were Revealed near Hamburg; worldwide, the number is close to forty youths between sixteen and twenty-five…"
"Generation of idiots…" muttered an elderly man watching the news. "Fifty years ago, when a Sefira awakened, it was a symbol of honor and pride… Nowadays, this flock of idiots prefers a life without power…"
"You are being redirected to a direct line with the Asian Sephirot Association. Be aware that all your words will be recorded and your location disclosed. Please wait a few seconds…" a robotic message informed through Izami's phone, as he sat beside the old man.
While waiting, Izami glanced discreetly at the elder; everything the man said was nonsense—even to a retired Sefira.
"Remember, dear? We spent our whole lives under military training just to try becoming Sefiras, and now these kids want to live comfortably… Spoiled brats…" he grumbled to his wife.
"Yes, I remember…" she replied uncomfortably.
Scratching his arm and crossing them, the old man continued complaining: "That's why the old Sefiras reach the highest ranks… These kids will only die."
Izami, bored to the point of squinting, tapped his restless foot. Time refused to move.
Annoyed, the elderly woman burst:
"Do you remember why we're here, Leonard?! Stop spouting nonsense while you tarnish our son's memory!"
Tears threatened to form in her eyes as she pressed her trembling lips and stared at her husband.
Leonard swallowed hard.
He didn't remember—he suffered from memory loss that sometimes came and went.
And when his wife yelled, he finally recalled why they were at the DSSP at nine in the morning under a storm.
Robert, their middle son, had been a Rank-F Sefira who served for three years… until yesterday, December twenty-first, when two agents appeared at Leonard's door—uniformed, empathetic, and carrying only a letter on a tray.
To the world, he was a Rank-F Sefira. To Leonard, he was his precious son who died at twenty-one.
The weakness he had mocked moments earlier became an insult to his own blood.
His heart raced; his skin flushed; his blood pressure spiked.
"My… Robie…" he groaned, clutching his chest as tears filled his eyes.
Izami, aware of the situation unfolding beside him, stood up to call for help.
But—
"Hello! This is Ramil from the Asian Association's Security Sector. Who am I speaking to, and how may I assist you?"
The call finally connected. Knowing he couldn't speak openly—so the emergency wouldn't escalate—Izami raised his hand at a distant guard.
Opening his palm and closing it again, he pointed discreetly at Leonard. The guard quickly understood.
"Hello! My name is Izami Kairen, honorary Sefira of the Asian Association, currently retired. I need to speak with Kimisu Hinode of the Rising Sun Pantheon."
Stepping toward a window, Izami tensed.
It had been nineteen years since he last contacted the Association.
But the moment they heard his identification, the Central Office transferred the call at once.
Izami scratched his head and looked at a security camera, which immediately turned toward him. As expected: now that they knew where he was, they needed to confirm whether he truly was a retired Sefira—or someone attempting a prank, though no one would be foolish enough to try that.
"It's been a long time, Mr. Izami! I'd be glad to talk under better circumstances, but watching you call the Association in such distress is… concerning," replied Chief of Security Karpy with a joking tone.
"Karpy! Yes, it's been almost two decades… But I need to reach Kimisu, since this line is the only way…"
"Yes, yes… We restrict Master Kimisu's casual communications. But what could be so urgent that you need him?"
Leaning against the window frame, Izami lowered his head; his voice grew quieter—sadder.
"My eldest son, Izumi… He was hit by this morning's Revelation Wave…"
"Huh?! That sounds like good news…"
Izami exhaled shakily and rubbed his face. Shaking his head, he hid his expression from the camera.
Seeing his behavior, Karpy quickly dropped the cheerful tone.
"Or… not."
"Yeah. Anyway. Karpy, I need to speak with Kimisu because Izumi is suffering from a sensory Revelation. Besides being Izumi's godfather, Kimisu is also the Master of Senses. I need him to help."
"I know. I remember you chose Kimisu over me to be the boy's godfather… But! I'll help. Hold on."
Cracking his fingers and brushing hair from his forehead, Izami stared at the storm's fog.
Izumi… Why you… he lamented.
He knew that, for Izumi, this was an insult to the soul.
Not only being Revealed, but bearing the Burden—the loss of sight—was drowning the boy in a sea of emptiness.
Izumi's heart must have been drained of any will to live; replaced with the desire not to live at all. It was always like that for those who didn't want to become Sefiras.
My son… Izami thought again, clenching his eyes shut. May God illuminate your mind right now…
"Izami!" Karpy suddenly called.
Izami snapped out of his grief and focused.
"I got you two minutes with Kimisu. He's on an expedition in South Korea, but he's not leading the mission. He can help."
Izami inhaled deeply, relief spreading through his chest.
"Izami? Is that you?!" a surprised voice burst through the phone.
"Kimisu…" he said, trying to steady himself.
"Karpy told me you've got an S-Code in the family, is that true? Someone from Ayumi-san's side?"
Walking in circles, Kimisu Hinode—his naturally mystical pink hair swaying—tried to understand the situation.
A call from Izami was not normal.
"No. I need you in Hamburg within two hours…"
"Hey, hey! You haven't even told me what's going on and you're already making demands?! I'm in Seoul, South Korea. One of Beelzebub's underlings is wreaking havoc near Japan's old borders…"
"I understand, but Karpy also mentioned you're not leading this expedition…"
"True, I'm not. But even so, man… I'm way too far to make it in two hours…"
"Kimisu, this is about Izumi. He lost his vision during the Revelation. We both know that if his assigned handler fails to manage it, the damage might become permanent…"
"Hold on! My godson?! Izumi was struck by the Lord's Revelation?!"
"Yeah… And with a heavy Burden…"
"Damn… I'll make arrangements, but it'll take about a day. Don't you dare let anyone else take charge of Izumi until I get there!"
"I wasn't planning to…"
"Good! Wait for me!" he ordered before hanging up.
In Seoul, Kimisu witnessed a sudden shift in atmosphere: on the side where he stood, the sunlight kept the sky blue and clear, offering a mild warmth. But just a few meters ahead was hell.
A thin line separated the human world from a demon's domain; beyond it, the air was red—almost as tangible as blood.
While Seoul's buildings stood intact, the demonic domain lay in ruins, Sefiras clashing against demons trying to push through.
At this rate, corruption is imminent… But there are people far more suited to handle this, Kimisu thought, watching lightning fall deep within the domain.
Bright flashes and thunder spread across the South Korean capital.
"Kyuubi, return!"
Instantly, nine shadows—foxlike silhouettes—rushed back toward him like cherry blossom petals carried by the wind.
Taking his phone again, Kimisu dialed a specific number: 002—direct line to the Association's Secretary, second only to code 001, which belonged to the President himself.
"Hello, Secretary. Honorary Rank-B Sefira Kimisu Hinode of the Rising Sun Pantheon reporting…" he introduced himself before making the request. "I request permission to leave my current location, Seoul, South Korea, to travel to Hamburg, Germany…"
He fell silent for several seconds.
Not voluntarily—he simply stood there dumbfounded. The Secretary of the Association, Ross Kernand, was clearly judging him for wanting to abandon the mission.
But the truth was different.
"I understand, Secretary. However, this mission is being led by Raigon no Michizane, and so far, there are no signs of failure. Everything is progressing normally…"
"Then why do you want to leave?! Just stay and accept the honor of being part of this operation!" the Secretary snapped, heavily irritated.
"I must decline the honor, Secretary."
Watching lightning strike to the south, where the sun had risen minutes earlier over the crimson sky tainted by demonic corruption, Kimisu declared:
"This is a personal storm…"