1

"Nine!"

Her voice, soft and familiar, cut through the noise of the slums.

Nine froze, his heart lurching as though yanked by an invisible thread. He turned, and there she stood—Aya, a fragile bloom thriving against the harshness of winter.

The flickering lantern light illuminated her slight figure, casting long shadows against the crumbling brick walls. Her dark hair, unkempt yet still holding the sheen of youth, framed a face too gentle for a place like this. Her eyes, always wide with quiet wonder, now held something else—concern.

Nine swallowed, willing away the sudden swell of emotion. Aya was his anchor in a world that offered no mercy. An orphan, like him, she had been the one constant in his life. The slums had taught him that survival meant hardening oneself against pain, against loss, against hope. But Aya? She was the exception. She softened his edges, tethering him to a part of himself he was beginning to forget.

Memories flickered in his mind like ghosts.

The bullies had always come for him—mocking his small frame, beating him just to feel powerful. But Aya had never let them have the satisfaction of seeing him broken. She had no strength of her own to fight them off, but she was clever. A distraction here, a diversion there, and before they knew it, she'd be gripping Nine's wrist with surprising strength, her voice a breathless whisper, "Run."

They had carved out their own fragile sanctuary, a hidden space behind a wall they had spent days cracking open. It was small, barely enough for the two of them to sit shoulder to shoulder, but it was theirs. A place where the world couldn't reach them. Here, they shared stolen bread, curled up for warmth on bitter nights, and marveled at the discarded picture books Aya found.

Aya couldn't read the words, but Nine could. He had taught himself, determined to unravel the mystery of the symbols that danced across pages. And when he learned, he taught her.

She had watched him with wide, unblinking eyes, tracing the letters he showed her with the tip of her finger.

"You're smart, Nine," she'd whisper, as if afraid speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile world they had built.

In those moments, it didn't matter that they had nothing. They had each other.

But time changes people.

Nine, once the boy who laughed with Aya over silly pictures, began to shift. The softness in his eyes dulled, replaced by a sharper, colder light. His cleverness turned to cunning. The streets that once tormented him were now under his control, as he brewed and sold a potent drug that kept the slums in his grasp. Aya didn't understand the depths of his actions, but she felt the unease creeping into her heart. She wanted to ask, to beg him to stop, but fear held her tongue. Fear of losing the only person she had.

By the time Aya was fifteen and Nine seventeen, the world beyond their sanctuary fell into chaos.

Wars erupted across the realm, martial arts factions clashing in desperate bids for dominance. Greed and ambition tore apart the fragile peace, and with it came something far worse.

The gods, disillusioned by mortals, turned their backs on the realm.

And hell stepped forward to fill the void.

The Seven Deadly Sins—Greed, Lust, Sloth, Pride, Envy, Wrath, and Gluttony—manifested as forces that offered power to the desperate and the ambitious. Their allure was intoxicating, their promises irresistible.

Nine, ever ambitious, couldn't resist.

When the Arena of Lords was announced—a deadly tournament where the victor would claim the title of one of the Seven Sins—Nine made his decision. He would fight. He would win.

Aya tried to stop him.

"You will gain nothing from it." She stood in his path, her voice trembling but resolute.

Nine sighed, leaning down to meet her gaze. His eyes softened for a moment, but the fire of determination still burned behind them.

"I'll create a world for us, Aya," he said, his hand briefly brushing over her head before stepping past her.

"We have each other. That's enough!" Aya ran to block his path again, her voice breaking.

Nine stopped. Gently, he placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face the broken world around them.

Dark smoke curled into the sky from distant fires. Screams pierced the air, blending into the cacophony of suffering. People moved like shadows—hungry, desperate, their gazes hollow. Even the guards and martial artists trying to restore order carried the same hopelessness in their eyes.

"This place will burn soon," Nine said, his voice quiet but unyielding.

When he took her hand and led her forward, she let him. Questions swirled in her mind, fear coiling in her chest, but his touch eased her worries—if only for a moment.

"What are you planning?" she finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nine stopped and turned to her, his gaze unreadable. Then, with a small smile, he said,

"I told you, Aya. I'll create a world for us."

"How? You're just a kid."

Nine laughed, the sound low and warm. It caught her off guard.

"A kid, huh?" He tilted his head, his sharp features softening with humor. "Maybe for now. But that won't last long."

His face was smudged with dirt, but it only made him look more striking, his eyes burning with something Aya couldn't name.

Her heart stuttered. She hated how easily he could unnerve her.

"Are you sick?" Nine's grin faded, and his brows furrowed. He reached out to feel her forehead, but Aya pushed his hand away, heat rising to her cheeks.

"I-I'm fine!" she stammered, turning her face away.

Nine blinked, then chuckled, the sound soft and teasing.

"You want me to carry you?" His tone was playful.

Aya pouted, turning to glare at him. "I'm not a kid anymore!"

"Right, right." Nine raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never fading. "But we are kids, aren't we?"

Aya huffed, snatching her scarf from his hand and marching ahead with a pout. Nine followed close behind, amusement dancing in his gaze.

For a moment, it was like old times. The teasing, the warmth, the sense that they were just two children against the world.

But Aya couldn't shake the unease that lingered in her chest.

Nine's path was leading him into darkness.

And she wasn't sure if she could follow.