Prologue.

[This chapter tells Kyoji Ren's story. It's important for understanding the main character's past, so make sure you read it!]

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My name is Kyoji Ren, and this is the story of how my life took a turn for the worst.

I was born on March 1st, 2330, in a world where everything had changed. Three centuries ago, mutants emerged, and alongside them came the Chosen—humans blessed by the gods with extraordinary abilities.

I was born in a Citadel, one of the massive strongholds where humanity clung to survival. My parents were both Chosen, respected warriors within our walls. But even as a child, I noticed something strange. My mother—she was different. More than just strong. She wasn't merely respected; she was revered.

People admired my father, sure, but they only truly respected him because of her. He knew it. And I don't think he liked it very much. Their arguments were frequent, but nothing serious… or so I thought.

I lived a normal life—friends, games, childhood innocence. But all of that ended the day I turned five.

That was the day the horde came.

A beast wave of terrifying magnitude struck our Citadel, throwing everything into chaos. My parents were called to battle, as all Chosen were. But before they left, I overheard them arguing. My mother, for the first time, was afraid.

"This is different," she told him. "This horde is stronger than anything we've faced before."

She begged him to stay behind, to survive. But my father, with his pride wounded and his ego fragile, spat back at her. "So you can take all the glory again, right?"

My mother had always been the hero. The warrior who led victories, who earned cheers and admiration. My father? Always in her shadow. No matter how hard he fought, how much he sacrificed, she was the one they praised.

It ate away at him. Turned his love into resentment.

But my mother never saw him as lesser. Around her, he was a different man—softer, gentler. That was the power of love, I suppose. A power that made even the strongest warriors weak.

Don't fall in love, people. Trust me.

Love blinded my mother to the truth. No matter how much she reassured him, it was never enough. My father was determined to prove himself.

And so, against her pleas, he went to battle.

That decision cost him everything.

The battle was hell. The horde was stronger than anyone had anticipated. My father barely survived. His core—the crystalline heart of his power—was shattered.

For a Chosen, that was a fate worse than death.

Losing his core made him weaker than a normal human. But that wasn't the worst part. My father lost everything—his strength, his pride, his purpose. And in his eyes, there was only one person to blame: my mother.

The house became a warzone.

The once-proud warrior turned into something else entirely—a bitter, violent shadow of himself. My mother, the woman who could tear apart mutants with her bare hands, suddenly seemed powerless.

Not physically. No, she could have killed him in an instant. But she didn't. Because despite everything, she still loved him.

And that love made her weak.

I saw my mother bleed for the first time. Not in battle, not fighting monsters, but at the hands of a broken man she refused to let go of.

And I learned something that day.

Love makes you vulnerable. Love makes you weak. Love will destroy you.

So I made a promise to myself.

I would never love.

I built walls around my heart, locked my emotions away. Over time, they faded into nothing. I forgot what it meant to smile, to feel warmth, to be human.

By the time I was eight, my mother finally realized the truth. She had endured years of his abuse, but the day she found me beaten half to death, something inside her shattered.

She made a choice.

We ran.

Leaving behind everything we knew, my mother took me to Coliseum City, an Elysium Shelter—one of the greatest strongholds of humanity. I thought we'd start fresh. A new life, a new beginning.

But the moment we arrived, she disappeared.

Just like that.

She left me with nothing but one billion E₵, a mansion and a gaping hole in my life.

A fortune beyond imagining. Yet what use was wealth to an eight-year-old child?

I was alone.

Alone in a world that had already shown me too much darkness.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We'll save that story for another time.

For now, let's return to the moment that truly changed my life.

The day I turned sixteen.

It was the Blessing Ritual—the moment every child awaited, the day where fate decided if you were worthy of power.

Those who were Chosen gained abilities, status, strength. They became something more than human.

I stepped forward, standing beneath the towering statues of the Nine Gods, waiting for their judgment.

Their stone eyes stared down, cold and indifferent.

Nothing happened.

No glow of divine favor. No surge of power.

Silence.

The gods had deemed me unworthy.

I walked away empty-handed, my fate seemingly sealed.

But I didn't break.

Did I blame my parents? No. They were victims too.

The only ones I blamed were the gods themselves.

They played their little game, choosing who to favor and who to abandon. And I?

I refused to play by their rules.

So I made a second vow that day.

I would become powerful.

With or without their blessing, I would rise. I would tear apart the rules of this world, claw my way to the top.

And when I did?

Even the gods would have no choice but to acknowledge me.

And if they didn't?

What did it matter to me?

I would carve my own path—no matter what stood in my way.