In Tokyo, I was not human. I was merely a "shadow" moving between skyscrapers. I had no name for anyone to call, no official record to prove I existed. To passersby, I was just "that boy" who slept on cardboard boxes behind ramen shops, surviving on leftovers and looks of pity—or disgust.
In that dark alley, the rain fell as if it were trying to wash my existence off the face of the earth. I trembled beneath a torn shirt I had found in a trash bin two months ago when I heard it—a faint, broken meow coming from the edge of the nearby river.
It was a small black cat, its fur completely soaked, trapped between slippery rocks as the raging storm-driven waves tossed it around. For some reason, I saw myself in it. Both of us homeless. Nameless. Worthless in this cold concrete world.
Without thinking about the consequences, I jumped.
I had nothing to lose. No one would wait for my return. No one would grieve if I disappeared. The water felt like knives tearing through my thin skin. When I grabbed the cat and pushed it toward the shore, I felt a treacherous current seize my leg.
As I drowned, the last thought that crossed my mind was:
"At least I died doing something this universe might remember."
But before the darkness completely consumed me, I saw a strange red glow emanating from the black cat's eyes as it watched me from the riverbank… and a deep voice, as though tearing through the fabric of reality itself, echoed inside my mind:
[Breathing vessel detected from the abyss… Link activation initiated.]
"Wake up… Wake up, you disgusting outcast!"
I opened my eyes to find myself lying on hard stone ground. This was not the riverbed. This was not Tokyo.
The air here was heavy, saturated with a strange scent—like burning wood mixed with wildflowers. But the pain… the pain was so real it felt as though my soul were being ripped from its place.
I tried to rise, but a brutal kick landed in my stomach, forcing me face-first onto the stone again. I coughed up dark red blood that stained the gray stones beneath my head.
"Look, it seems little 'Ren' decided to return from the dead just to annoy us again," a voice dripping with arrogance said.
Ren? Is that my name?
Suddenly, memories I had never lived flooded my mind. I saw a child named Ren living in a grand palace yet treated like a servant. I saw him beaten, starved, and labeled "trash" because he was born with completely blocked mana veins in a clan that respected only power—the Shadow Clan.
In my previous life, I had no name.
In this one, my name was synonymous with disgrace.
I slowly lifted my gaze.
Standing before me was a tall young man dressed in luxurious black silk garments. His features were sharp and annoyingly handsome.
Kayan.
My cousin—the one who had enjoyed tormenting me since childhood.
Beside him stood a girl who looked like the embodiment of fire itself.
Elara.
The daughter of the Fire Clan's leader gazed at me coldly, as though I were an insect she had accidentally stepped on. She was my fiancée according to an old pact between the two clans, but her expression today said she would rather die than allow my hand to touch even the edge of her sleeve.
"Kayan, don't waste your magical energy on this trash," Elara said as she toyed with a strand of her glowing red hair. "Seeing his bleeding face contaminates the beauty of this morning. Can't we just finalize the engagement annulment and go celebrate?"
Kayan laughed and stepped forward, pressing his shoe down onto my outstretched hand.
"Elara is right. Ren, you are not only talentless—you are a stain upon the blood of the Shadow Clan. Today, by order of the Council, I will take your place in this pact. Elara will be mine, and the Fire Clan's power will support my ambition. As for you… you will remain here, barking beneath our feet."
I felt a rage unlike anything I had known during my years of homelessness in Tokyo. There, the world ignored me.
Here, the world demanded to crush me.
At that moment, as Kayan pressed harder on the bones of my hand, a translucent crimson screen flickered directly before my eyes. No one else could see it.
[Warning: Soul undergoing severe existential humiliation.]
[Hell System: Core protocol activated.]
[Status Analysis: Host possesses a "desire for vengeance" exceeding human limits.]
[Forced Mission: "Shatter Arrogance."]
[Requirement: Make "Elara" realize her fire is but a matchstick before your hell.]
[Reward: Skill (Eye of Truth) activated + 10% of Hell Veins unlocked.]
A sudden coldness surged through my body—familiar, like the river water that had drowned me—but this time it carried a terrifying power.
The pain in my chest vanished, replaced by a heavy, black pulse.
"Sign this document with your blood," Kayan said, tossing a parchment before me and drawing a small dagger. "Sign to admit you are trash—and that you do not deserve even to look at Elara."
I looked at the parchment.
Then at Elara, who was smiling mockingly.
I extended my bloodied hand.
But instead of taking the dagger, I seized Kayan's ankle—the one pressing down on my hand.
My movement was fast. So fast Kayan did not even have time to blink.
"What are you doing, you lit—?"
He never finished his sentence.
I squeezed his ankle with such force that my own bones cracked—yet he was the one who screamed.
I felt a black energy seeping from my pores and crawling toward his leg like starving serpents.
"Elara…" I whispered, as a red glow began to form in my eyes—the same glow I had seen in the black cat's gaze.
"You and Kayan thought you were dealing with weak, worthless Ren."
"But you awakened something…"
"…for which even hell itself has no place."
Elara's laughter froze.
She stepped back, sensing the aura of death beginning to emanate from my frail body.
In that moment, I was no longer the nameless homeless boy.
I was no longer Ren, the outcast.
I was something else entirely