The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the streets as students roamed in and out of Seiryu High School, their laughter echoing through the cold winter air. Among the crowd, Isamu Yamamoto walked in his usual quiet stride, his black school bag slung over one shoulder. His eyes were distant, focused on the rhythm of his steps, lost in thoughts of another boring day.

Isamu wasn’t like the others, he didn’t like to talk and express himself. He preferred to stay under the roof, doing well enough in school but never pushing himself too far into the spotlight. His classmates knew him as the guy who sat near the window, or reading, and rarely participating in any events. It wasn’t that he disliked people — he just found it easier to be alone.

As he walked home, his mind wandered. Maybe tonight he’d finish the new manga he'd been reading or sleep. His family lived just a few blocks away, in a small house near the edge of the city. The streets were usually quiet by this time of day, with only a few cars passing by.

He turned a corner onto the narrow side street that led directly to his home. The road was empty, and for a moment, the only sounds were the rustling of leaves in the wind and the faint hum of distant traffic.

It was peaceful.

Too peaceful.

The sudden roar of an engine shattered the silence.

Isamu’s head snapped up, eyes widening as he spotted a truck running down the road, out of control, its horn honking but too late to change course. The driver inside was yelling, desperately trying to regain control of the vehicle, but the truck swerved dangerously, heading directly toward Isamu.

Time seemed to slow. Isamu’s instincts told him to move, but his body wouldn’t respond fast enough. The world around him blurred as the truck loomed closer, its headlights blinding. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, louder than anything else.

And then, impact.

Pain ran through his body as he felt himself thrown into the air, weightless for a brief moment before everything went dark.

When Isamu opened his eyes again, the first thing he noticed was the light. It wasn’t harsh like the truck’s headlights — it was soft, warm, almost inviting like spring. He blinked, his vision adjusting, and realized he was no longer lying on the cold ground of the street.

He was standing.

But not on any ground, he recognized. Beneath his feet was a platform of shimmering white stuff, surrounded by an endless sea of stars. The sky was dark speckled with constellations that shone more brightly than any he had ever seen on Earth.

“What… where am I?”

A gentle voice broke the silence. “Oh, you died from a car accident.”

Isamu turned, startled, and found himself face to face with a figure that made him question if he was still dreaming. Before him stood a woman, so pretty that her light blinded his eyes, her long, flowing hair was the color of moonlight, and her eyes — they were unlike any human’s, glowing with every color ever imagined.

“Is this heaven, am I dead?” Isamu said calmly, though his body was shaking. He wasn’t sure how else to process the situation.

The woman smiled softly. “Yes, you did die in your world, Isamu Yamamoto. But that doesn’t mean your journey is over.”

“Who are you?” he asked, confused. Was this some kind of afterlife?

“I am the Goddess of Rebirth,” she said, her voice as calm as the gentle waves from the sea. “It is my duty to guide those who lost their lives before their time was up.”

Isamu’s thoughts spun. One minute he was walking home from school, and the next… this. He was sure he was dreaming.

“You will be reborn,” the goddess explained. “In another world, very different from your own. A world of magic, kingdoms, and great battles — a place where you will have the chance to live your life again.”

Isamu felt his heart race again, but this time, not out of fear. Something about her words ignited a spark within him. He had always felt out of place in the normal world as if he were meant for something more. But this… a world of magic?

“Why me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, laced with curiosity. “Why was I chosen?”

The goddess tilted her head slightly, her smile never fading. “ I didn’t choose you. You just happened to die and ended up here. It was fate that brought you here.”

A world of magic and kingdoms. The idea was scary, but at the same time… exciting. For once in his life, Isamu felt a sense of purpose.

“What happens now?” he asked, his voice steadying. “Do I just appear in my new world?”

“You will be reincarnated in this new world. However, as a gift, I will grant you 3 powers of your choosing,” the goddess said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Choose wisely, for this power will shape your new life.”

Isamu paused, thinking carefully. He couldn't waste this opportunity if he truly was being reborn in a magical world. He thought about all the possibilities: strength, intelligence, and control over the elements.

“What are the options?” asked Isamu

The goddess smiled, “Anything you could imagine.”

“I want to have the ability to regenerate, element control, and endless stamina,” he said at last.

The goddess’s smile broadened, clearly pleased with his choice. “A noble choice. But there are still limitations on these abilities.” You will be granted these powers to help you through your journey.

Before he could ask anything else, he was knocked out. The world faded as he closed his eyes. Isamu felt his body grow lighter, his senses fading as he was pulled toward something new, something unknown.

“Good luck, Isamu,” the goddess’s voice echoed in his mind, the last thing he heard before everything went black. “Your new life awaits.”

When Isamu opened his eyes again, he found himself in the arms of a woman, a man standing over the woman who cried out tears of joy.

He had been reborn.

And so, his new journey began

The world Isamu Yamamoto had opened his eyes to was very different from the one he had left behind. He remembered his first sight—a warm, cozy room surrounded by soft candlelight. Wooden walls lined with shelves of books and ancient scrolls surrounded him, and the air carried the scent of herbs and spices. Above him, two figures gazed down with joy and tears—his new parents.

The woman holding him had soft blue eyes and silver-white hair that shined like the light of the moon. Her expression was a blend of exhaustion and overwhelming love as she gazed at him. The man beside her, with jet-black hair and broad shoulders, had tears streaming down his face, a face full of pride and happiness. His strong hands gently touched Isamu’s tiny head. Isamu, having his fathers features had black hair and brown eyes, but unlike his father, he has his mothers intelligence and an innocent face.

"Look at him, Hiroshi," the woman whispered. "Our son… our little Isamu."

Hiroshi, his father, nodded, his deep voice cracking with emotion. "He's perfect, Aiko."

This was Isamu’s new beginning—not as an orphan in this strange new world, but as the adored child of a family who would raise him with love and care in a world filled with magic and kingdoms.

Isamu’s childhood was a time of wonder and growth. Surrounded by ancient tomes and magical artifacts in his family's home, he quickly realized that this world was far more extraordinary than anything he had ever known. His days were filled with excitement watching his father, Hiroshi, a skilled swordsman, and his mother, Aiko, a healer known throughout their village for her powerful magic.

From an early age, Isamu trained under his father’s guidance, learning the art of swordsmanship. Hiroshi was strict but loving, teaching him the importance of discipline and endurance. Isamu also spent time with his mother, learning about healing magic and the natural world. Under her nurturing instruction, he learned not only to heal but also the ways of enchanting, a skill that would serve him well as he grew older.

The village they lived in was at the border of the Light Kingdom, far from the larger cities but surrounded by nature. Isamu spent his childhood exploring the dense forests. Often, he would sneak into the practice fields where sorcerers trained in combat magic, observing them and learning by watching. His natural talent for magic and combat grew stronger with every passing year. By the time he was six, his powers had begun to show. The villagers were surprised by the raw strength of his mana—a power more commonly related to nobles than commoners.

Despite his powers, Isamu’s family never allowed him to grow arrogant. His father continued to push him in his combat training, teaching him in swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. Hiroshi also taught Isamu knowledge of human and monster anatomy, giving Isamu an advantage in battle.

No matter how intense his training became, Isamu’s days were filled with love. His parents supported him, encouraging his growth both physically and mentally. He was never alone in this new world, and for that, he felt grateful.

One afternoon, while exploring the forest near their home, Isamu—now ten years old—was hunting monsters to further his skills. The forest was dense, but he had grown used to its sounds and smells. By the age of eight, Isamu had memorized the entire forest surrounding his village. He knew every tree, every scent, and every monster inside and out. Suddenly, he heard something unusual—a faint sound of crying echoing through the woods.

Curious, Isamu followed the sound until he saw a young boy, about his age, sitting by a tree with tears streaming down his face. The boy had dark hair and looked scared and lost.

"Are you okay?" Isamu asked, approaching cautiously. "You shouldn't be out here by yourself."

The boy looked up, wiping his tears. "I… I got lost," he said. "My parents… they’re far away on a journey, and I didn’t mean to come this far."

Isamu sat beside him, offering a kind smile. "Don’t worry, you’re safe now. My name is Isamu Yamamoto. I live in the village near the border of the Light Kingdom."

The boy hesitated for a moment before replying, "I’m Akira Kobayashi."

From that day on, they became best friends. They trained together, hunted monsters side by side, and pushed each other to new heights. Though they were different in many ways, their bond grew stronger each day.

As the days swiftly turned into weeks, Akira remained unaware that his parents had already met a tragic end, slain by the Demon Lord's assistant, Sylthara.

As time went on, the bond between Isamu and Akira grew deeper, shaped by countless shared experiences. From the age of ten, they were rarely apart, their friendship strengthened through years of training and exploring the forests around the village. They hunted monsters together, their skills improving with every battle.

By the time they were eleven, it was clear that both boys were on a path to greatness, though their goals were different. Isamu had a quiet strength, and a calm determination that made him a natural leader, though he never wanted to be one. His training under his father and mother continued to make him skilled with both sword and magic.

Akira, on the other hand, was fiercely ambitious. He pushed himself to the limit every day, determined to be the best in everything they did. He admired Isamu’s abilities but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing, and a desire from deep within trying to crawl out.

One afternoon, as they practiced swordsmanship in the clearing near the forest’s edge, Isamu noticed Akira had been there all day. His swings were filled with frustration.

“You seem tense,” Isamu said, lowering his wooden practice sword. “What’s wrong?”

Akira paused, looking away as he sheathed his sword. "Nothing," he muttered, though his tone was tight.

Isamu frowned, sensing something wrong with his friend. But before he could say more, a sudden roar from the opposite bush had caught their attention. It wasn’t unusual for them to encounter monsters in the forest, but this sound was different, more like a loud cry.

"Stay alert," Isamu said, his voice lowering as they both turned toward the source of the noise. Out of the trees emerged a half-dragon half-bird monster, its eyes glowing like blood, and its body covered in jagged, dark feathers. It wasn’t like the weaker monsters they were used to hunting. This one was larger, more dangerous, and stank of dark magic. In his beak was a . . . Creature too torn up to recognize.

Akira froze, “ Isamu, do you recognize what's in the monster's mouth?”

Isamu tensed. “This time looking at the creature in its mouth closely.”

Before Isamu could reply. Akira charged ahead with hatred in his eyes, his sword shone with the light of his magic. For a moment, Isamu stood frozen, watching as Akira fought fiercely, his movements were fast but clumsy. He was strong—stronger than most boys their age—but as Isamu predicted, the monster dodged skillfully. The monster didn’t look smart, but as Isamu’s Father taught him— Never underestimate your opponents—

With a sharp swipe of its tail, the creature sent Akira flying backward. His body slammed against a tree, the force knocking the breath out of him. Isamu didn’t hesitate. He rushed in, unleashing a spell that paralyzed the creature just long enough for him to strike it down. The beast crumbled, disintegrating into dust as it hit the ground.

Panting, Isamu turned to Akira. “ Are you ok?”

Akira struggled to his feet, his face twisted in frustration and anger. “ The monster ate one of the villagers, I couldn’t help it,” he snapped. “I wanted to prove that I was worthy. I wanted to save people.”

Isamu’s eyes narrowed. He had never seen Akira this angry before. “We’re supposed to work together. You know that.”

Akira looked away, his hands clenched into fists. “You don’t understand,” he muttered. "You never will."

There was something in Akira’s voice, something deeper than just frustration over the fight. Isamu could feel it—a growing distance between them that hadn’t been there before.

Isamu, not wanting to escalate the situation, said, "I've worked for years to become powerful. Winning one fight doesn’t make you the strongest."

A few days later, everything changed.

It was late in the afternoon when a horseman arrived at the village. He was dressed in the uniform of the royal messenger service, his armor had the crest of the Light Kingdom. The messenger, his face pale with urgency, climbed out of his horse and looked around.

Akira and Isamu were both in the village square when the messenger approached them. The look on his face made Isamu want to hug him.

“Are you Akira Kobayashi?” the messenger asked, his voice heavy with the weight of his message.

Akira nodded, confused by the sudden appearance of the royal messenger. “Yes, that’s me. What is it?”

The messenger bowed his head slightly before speaking, his voice low. “I bring grave news. Your parents… they were attacked while on their journey. Im sorry but . . . they . . . didn’t make it.”

Akira stood frozen, his brain not working at first. His parents? Dead? He stared at the messenger, his heart pounding in his chest. “What… what do you mean?”

The messenger continued, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. “They were killed by the Demon Lord’s minions, Slythara. I’m so sorry, young master.”

The world seemed to stop around them. Isamu watched as the color drained from Akira’s face, his hands trembling as he tried to make sense of the news. His parents, who had been away for so long, were never coming back.

Akira's lips opened, but no words came. His eyes filled with shock, grief, and something darker—rage.

Without another word, Akira turned and walked away from the village square, leaving Isamu.

Weeks passed, and Akira started training early every day. He trained day and night, sometimes skipping meals. The warmth they once shared was slowly being replaced by something colder, something darker.

Akira's mind was consumed by thoughts of revenge. He swore to himself that he would become strong enough to defeat anyone—especially the ones who killed his parents.

And all the while, Akira remained blissfully unaware of the full truth—that his bloodline was special.

From that day on, the two boys walked different paths, with different goals, unaware of what was out there and the darkness far beyond what they had known.