The smell of ash still clung to Dante's clothes. A bitter reminder of the inferno that had been his home. Three days. Three days since the sky had fallen, since the screams had died. Three days since the world went utterly, brutally silent.
He had to get revenge. They couldn't get away with this. But who were they? He needed answers.
He'd spent every waking moment since the attack clinging to the edges of the cordoned-off zone. A ghost among the grief-stricken. It was during one of those desperate, eavesdropping moments, huddled near a defense force tent, that he'd caught the hushed words: "High City... they saw them there too... flying shadows..."
That was it. His only lead.
High City. The name once glittered with the promise of a future, a place where legends were forged in the neon glow of super-fighting tournaments. Now, the thought of it tasted like ash. He knew it was also a cesspool of crime, a haven for the kind of power that could unleash destruction like he'd just witnessed. If those things had come from anywhere, it was there.
The main issue? Getting in. High City required special permits. The bus would take two weeks, but he had no choice. Luckily, he still had some cash hidden away, enough for a ticket. Hopefully.
The next day, the drizzle began again, cold and persistent. The closest bus station felt a world away, days of walking across endless, empty fields. His bombed-out town was now an impassable barrier behind him.
A day into his trek, his limbs ached. His stomach growled. The chill had settled deep in his bones. Nothing but a long, grey road stretched through a huge, grassy expanse.
"Screw it," he muttered, veering towards a cluster of trees. "I'll take shelter here until the weather breaks."
It was getting dark, and the cold deepened. He felt exhausted, too tired to keep pushing. "Just close my eyes for a bit," he thought, slumping against a thick trunk.
Later, in the middle of the night, around 11 PM, a strange noise jolted him awake.
"Huh?"
A soft, inviting glow pulsed through the trees of the fabled Elf Forest, smelling faintly of woodsmoke. And was that... food? His stomach, a beast now, roared in protest.
Maybe people live there. Should I go check it out? Maybe they'll let me stay the night, and help.
"Screw it, I have nothing to lose."
He bolted deeper into the trees, following the tantalizing scent. But the light, an infuriating will-o'-the-wisp, seemed to float further away with every desperate stride. He ran until his lungs burned, until the realization hit him: the light was no closer, and the forest had swallowed him whole. It was almost pitch black, the darkness pressing in.
"Don't tell me I'm lost? FUCK! Is this how I'm going to die? Alone and lost in this stupid forest?"
"DAMMIT!"
"Now what?" He stumbled forward, blind. "Just keep walking towards the light. There's nothing else to do."
He couldn't see anything. The ground vanished. A sickening lurch, a gasp torn from his throat.
"WTF! Aghhhh! NOoooo!"
He plummeted, falling into the frigid river in the middle of the night. The shock stole his breath. He fought the merciless current, thrashing against the unseen depths. But after a while, exhaustion won. His muscles gave out.
He lost consciousness.
Two days later.
A dull throb behind his eyes. The scent of herbs and something old, like dust and wood. He blinked, trying to make sense of the rough wooden ceiling above him, the worn blanket covering his bandaged limbs. Every inch of him ached, a deep, persistent soreness.
"My entire body hurts like hell," he groaned. "Huh? Where am I?"
The door creaked open, revealing a figure that seemed pulled from another time. An old man, his face a roadmap of wrinkles, his eyes ancient and oddly knowing, stood framed in the doorway. He wore a simple, almost ceremonial robe.
His voice was a low rumble, surprisingly resonant. "So, you finally opened your eyes."
"Who are you? What did you do to me?"
The old man smiled faintly. "Relax, kid. I helped you. If not for me, you'd be dead by now. What's your name, son?"
"Name's Dante. Thanks for helping. Tell me, old man, what's yours?"
He stroked his long, white beard thoughtfully. "I've been known by many names through my life, but I guess you can call me Master Rex."
A choked laugh, raw and humorless, escaped Dante. "Master Rex? Really?" He couldn't help but glance at the ancient-looking robe. "Is that why you're dressed like an ancient karate master, hahaha?"
Rex didn't seem bothered. His gaze was steady, more concerned. "Something like that, kid. Anyway, tell me, what were you doing deep in the Elf Forests? Didn't your parents tell you not to wander off alone in places like this?"
"I was lost, cold, hungry. I saw a light coming from the forest, so I followed it."
"You're lucky I found you washed up. Rest up for now, kid. I'll take you back to your home tomorrow."
Home? What home? Dante looked down at his bandaged hands, then began pulling them off. "There's no need to take me home. Just take me outside the forest. I'm on a mission."
Rex grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed, his ancient eyes fixed on Dante. "What kind of mission?"
A shiver of intimidation ran through Dante, but he told him everything. "My town was attacked by mysterious flying shadow people. They wiped out almost everyone. My mom and my friends died in that attack. I don't know how, but I survived. Now it's my mission to find them and kill them all."
Rex's expression remained impassive, but a flicker of something—perhaps pity, perhaps skepticism—crossed his aged eyes. "I'm sorry about what happened to you, but you can't fight those shadow figures. You'll die."
A surge of raw fury ignited inside Dante. He slammed his fist against the wall beside his bed, the plaster cracking with a dull thud. "I DON'T CARE! I NEED TO FIND THEM! THEY TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!"
Rex's voice was calm, cutting through Dante's rage. "Do you know how to control your ki?"
"My ki?" Dante repeated, confused.
"You don't even know what ki is, and you want to fight these people?"
"No, I mean, I've seen people using ki on TV during fighting tournaments, but why would you ask me if I can control mine?"
"Because these shadow figures you saw are ki-users. And from the way you described them, they are not your average ki-user. Not even armies can stop them. What kind of chance does a dumb kid like you have?"
Frustration bubbled in Dante, but deep down, he knew Rex was right. "I..." A heavy sigh escaped him. "You're right. But I have nowhere to go. I don't know what to do. My best friend is dead. The only family I had was killed. I feel angry, sad, and I just want the people who did this to pay. I'm willing to do anything, even if it kills me."
Rex stood up. The air in the small room thickened. A shimmering haze, like heat off an old furnace, seemed to ripple around him, pulsing with an immense, silent power. Dante felt a primitive alarm bell clang in his chest, a pressure he couldn't name, a raw energy that was both terrifying and utterly captivating.
"What is going on? What is this aura surrounding you?" Dante stammered.
Rex smiled, a faint, almost imperceptible curve of his lips. "I can teach you how to control your ki. But it's going to take discipline, commitment, and hard work just to learn the basics. Are you up to it?"
At that moment, for the first time in his life, Dante knew exactly what he wanted.
"Yes! I'll do anything you want, Master. Just please, teach me how to control my ki."
Rex chuckled, a dry, raspy sound. "Hahaha. I didn't expect to have a new student after all this time. Fine. But the moment I see you're slacking, I'll kick you out."
"I promise you won't be disappointed in me."
This was his only chance to get stronger, to have his revenge.
Just wait for me. I promise I'm going to make you suffer.