On that day, darkness swallowed the planet of Aphelgustine.
The sun vanished without warning, leaving nothing but an ominous red glow that clung to the clouds like blood smeared across a canvas. Daylight never returned. For three months, the world remained shrouded in twilight—unnatural, oppressive, and cold.
Most called it an ill omen.
The elders whispered of forgotten devils stirring in ancient holds. Others, more hopeful, claimed a genius had been born—one whose soul was so powerful that the very heavens refused to outshine it.
But whatever the truth was, the planet stood still, holding its breath.
---
Core City – Auron Branch Courtyard
"Understanding your opponent's body language is more vital than you think," Old Man Khan said, his voice deep and gravelly like weathered stone. "It tells you more than words ever will. The way they lean. The twitch in their wrist. A subtle shift in the foot. That's where the real fight begins—long before a punch is thrown."
The courtyard buzzed with the soft sounds of rustling wind and birdsong. Patches of sunlight filtered through the bamboo roof slats, casting shifting shadows on the polished stone floor.
Kaine Auron stood across from Jace, his white hair catching the light like threads of silver fire. His crimson eyes—bright, intelligent, unreadable—never wavered.
He wore a loose training gi, sleeves tied just below the elbow, chest rising and falling slowly with practiced breaths. His hands were bare, fingers relaxed.
Across from him, Jace Auron gripped a wooden sword with both hands. His raven-black hair was tied into a low tail, and the veins in his arms bulged as he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
Jace scoffed. "I still don't get it."
Old Man Khan raised an eyebrow. "What don't you get, boy?"
"Why I get a sword… and he gets nothing?" Jace gestured with his blade toward Kaine, a frown pulling at his lips. "What kind of spar is this? You setting me up to win or him to die?"
Kaine blinked slowly, his voice calm and even. "Then tell me why I'm forced to fight barehanded while Jace gets a sword."
Old Man Khan didn't reply immediately. He studied both boys for a moment, his crimson eyes glinting.
Then he smiled faintly. "Life is never fair. Might as well learn that now."
Kaine gave a small nod, adjusting his stance.
Jace smirked. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Without another word, Jace lunged forward, blade arcing horizontally in a clean, swift motion.
Kaine sidestepped.
His movements were fluid, almost lazy, like drifting smoke. He ducked a second strike, parried the third with a palm, and pivoted behind Jace in one seamless motion.
The wooden sword whistled through the air but hit nothing.
Jace growled, frustrated. He spun, swinging again.
Kaine weaved under it, jabbed his fingers toward Jace's ribs—but stopped a hair's breadth from impact.
"Point," Old Man Khan muttered.
"You hesitated," Jace spat, stepping back. His eyes were burning now. "Why didn't you hit me?"
Kaine's expression remained unreadable. "Because it wasn't necessary."
That stung. Jace's face twisted in irritation.
"You think you're better than me?"
"No," Kaine said. "I don't need to be."
Jace's breath hitched—then he snapped.
With a roar, he tossed his sword aside. "To hell with this!"
He charged, fists swinging wildly. The shift from calculated combat to brawling was sudden—but not unexpected. Jace was hot-headed, always had been.
Kaine dodged the first punch, blocked the second. The third caught him in the shoulder, forcing a grunt from his lips.
Then Jace tackled him.
They hit the ground hard. Dust flew. Kaine tried to roll, but Jace was on top, one arm wrapped around Kaine's throat in a chokehold.
"Aughh—damn it! Let—go!" Kaine gasped, his calm composure cracking under the pressure.
His vision blurred. Muscles tensed. He reached for Jace's arm, fingers digging into flesh.
Then—
THWACK.
A sharp kick knocked Jace sideways, sending him rolling.
Old Man Khan stood between them now, arms crossed.
"Enough."
Jace groaned, rubbing his ribs. Kaine sat up slowly, coughing and wiping the dirt from his face.
"Are you two warriors or children throwing tantrums?" Khan snapped.
Neither replied.
Kaine lowered his head, lips pressed tight.
"You," Khan pointed at Jace, "let your pride rule you."
Then he turned to Kaine. "And you—you don't get to act like you're above emotion. Pride festers in silence, too."
Kaine's fingers curled into fists.
He hated how true those words were.
--
The Aphelgustine family operated like an empire.
At its peak stood the Patriarch—ruler of the Celestial Concord's strongest sinborn bloodline. Beneath him, the Grand Elder and the Council of Elders. Supervisors oversaw each family branch, while descendants were ranked by bloodline purity.
Those with direct ties to the Ancestor were hailed as Noble-Blooded. The rest? Normal-Blooded—lesser, unworthy, often forgotten.
Kaine was a Noble-Blooded. A child of the Auron Branch, son of elite blood. He was supposed to be exceptional.
He was not.
At fifteen, he had awakened no sin. His Qi remained stagnant. While others in his age group manipulated Gluttony or Wrath, Kaine could barely extend his aura beyond his skin.
The shame burned like frostbite.
He smiled through it. Trained harder. Pretended it didn't matter.
But it did.
The Aphelgustine bloodline was a legacy of excess ambition, and divine rebellion.
Their strength came not from ancient weapons or sacred blood alone—but from the raw, corrupted forces that ruled human desire: the Seven Sins.
Lust. Gluttony. Greed. Envy. Sloth. Wrath. Pride.
Each sin was more than a mere emotion. In the Aphelgustine family, it was a power, a trait, a destiny.
Most descendants awakened to a single sin by the age of thirteen, their bodies naturally attuning to the essence that matched their soul. A rare genius might command two. A prodigy could wield three. But history only whispered of one who had once held six—thousands of years ago. Even the current Patriarch, a man revered across the Celestial Concord, had only managed five.
Only one name was ever etched into the annals of their family's eternal stone as a True Sinborn—the founder himself, a man who once stood atop all seven sins.
Yet Kaine Auron, fifteen years old and born of direct blood, held none.
No sin. No affinity. No sign of awakening.
Nothing but Qi.
---
Despite this, Kaine walked on.
The cobblestone path beneath his boots was lined with flowering spirit-pines and whispering lotus vines that glowed faintly in the Etherlight. He was making his way toward the Auron Branch's Central Health Pavilion, a facility his grandmother presided over.
Even in a world advanced by inconceivable technology—floating cities, soul-forged machinery, mind-linked processors—the Aphelgustines clung to their medieval aesthetics. Their halls were carved from black marble, torch-lit corridors adorned with ancient crests, and tall spires soared toward the heavens like spears. But that did not mean they lacked advancement.
Hidden behind the illusion of archaic grandeur, the family wielded technology so seamlessly integrated into their culture that it danced hand-in-hand with tradition—soul-tech armor under ritual robes, AI-curated herb gardens inside stone apothecaries, surveillance spirits shaped like owls perched in every courtyard.
The inner branch, where Kaine walked, was serene. Birds chirped softly overhead, and ornamental fountains murmured like lullabies. Yet for Kaine, this beauty had always carried the weight of judgment.
As he passed by, he saw two noble girls—clear descendants, with ruby-red eyes gleaming like polished rubies—walking together, giggling under silk umbrellas. The moment their gazes fell upon him, their smiles froze, twisting into frowns.
Disgust. Disdain. Disbelief.
It was the same every day.
They did not whisper behind their hands—they didn't need to. Kaine's reputation preceded him like a shadow stretching ahead: The Sinless.
Among the Aphelgustine, turning fifteen without manifesting even a sliver of sin wasn't just rare. It was a curse. A bad omen. A sign that your soul had rejected the inheritance of your blood, that the ancestral power had found you unworthy.
A lost cause.
Yet Kaine—his expression calm, his back straight—did not let their scorn pierce him. Not outwardly, at least.
He offered a polite nod and continued walking.
Because despite it all, he still believed.
Even if it took years.
Even if it took decades.
Even if it cost him everything.
He would not give up.
He would earn his sin—
Or create one of his own.
---
The health pavilion soon came into view.
The Main Healing Branch stood like a palace of white stone, nine stories tall and veined with golden lines of flowing Qi energy. Giant green banners marked with the serpent-and-staff symbol of the Aphelgustine Medica fluttered in the wind.
The garden in front was alive with rare herbs—Moonshade Basil, Phoenix Clove, Sunspine Root—some glowing softly, others humming with arcane rhythms.
He stepped through the wide archway into a lobby carved with runes and illuminated by glowing Ether orbs. A tall servant in gray robes stood behind the reception desk.
Kaine offered a courteous bow.
"Good evening."
The servant didn't respond. Not a glance. Not a nod. As if air had spoken.
But Kaine had long stopped expecting acknowledgment. Their silence was louder than words.
He simply smiled to himself and walked forward, the marble floor cool under his steps as he ascended the spiral staircase that would take him to the upper levels—where Grandmother Maicy waited.Unlike the bustling, medicinal precision of the lower levels, the ninth floor of the Health Pavilion was nothing short of ethereal.
It wasn't a floor.
It was a garden.
Suspended so high that clouds occasionally drifted past the arched glass windows, the ninth floor was a sacred haven. A radiant dome of light filtered through its enchanted glass ceiling, bathing the entire chamber in golden warmth. Verdant vines crawled along ivory columns, flowers of impossible colors bloomed in perfect harmony, and streams of crystalline water curved through the lush greenery like liquid silver.
Though smaller than the levels below, its serenity and breathtaking beauty rendered it priceless. Only a handful within the entire Aphelgustine clan had ever been granted access.
Kaine Auron was one of them.
Not because of prestige.
Not because of achievement.
But because of blood.
Elder Maicy—his grandmother and the revered matron of Aphelgustine healing—had granted him that exception.
He stepped into the chamber and immediately felt the shift. The chaotic noise of the outside world seemed to hush the moment his foot touched the petal-laden path. Here, time slowed.
And at the center, like a goddess among the bloom, stood Maicy.
Even at hundreds of years old, Maicy retained the radiance of a woman in her early thirties. Her lustrous white hair cascaded down her back like silk, gently swaying as she moved. Her ruby eyes—the unmistakable mark of a true Aphelgustine—glimmered with wisdom, patience, and something far softer when they landed on her grandson.
She moved with elegance, her steps never bending a blade of grass. One pale, delicate hand reached forward to pluck the petal of a vibrant blue flower—a special-grade herb known as Azure Vein, capable of healing wounds that should have been fatal, even restoring lost limbs in a matter of hours.
She held it gently. A single petal. Precious beyond measure.
And she gave it to Kaine.
"Grandmother," Kaine said, his voice gentler than usual.
Maicy turned toward him, her expression as warm as a morning sun. She walked forward, extending the petal in her hand.
"You know this takes a full decade to bloom again," Kaine muttered with a bitter smile as he reluctantly accepted and consumed it.
Maicy simply smiled and raised her hand, her soft palm cupping his cheek with a tenderness that could shatter the strongest spirit.
"And who cares," she replied softly, "when it's for my beloved grandson?"
It was a gesture full of grace, but behind her warmth was a looming weight Kaine could not ignore.
He had come with purpose.
"I didn't come for medicine," he said, straightening. "The tournament's in less than a week. You said you were working on something—a solution."
Maicy's smile faltered. Her gaze lowered momentarily, and a long sigh escaped her lips.
"I found a way," she said finally, "but it's not something I want you to endure. It's dangerous. Painful. Even fatal, if not handled perfectly."
Kaine's brow furrowed. His hands clenched at his sides.
"Do you think I care about that?" he said, his voice sharp but not angry—desperate. "I've been humiliated every single day of my life. Looked down upon like I'm cursed. A Sinless Aphelgustine. Do you know what that means to me?"
She looked at him. He wasn't a child begging for power. He was a warrior screaming for liberation.
"I am ready," Kaine declared, unwavering. "I don't care what the cost is. I'd rather die fighting for something than live with nothing."
For a long moment, Elder Maicy was silent.
Then, finally, with resignation thick in her breath, she turned away and began to explain the process.
---
Three Days Later: Trial by Beast
The trees whipped past him in a blur, their leaves slashing across his skin like paper blades. Roots snagged at his feet, trying to trip him, but Kaine's focus was absolute.
He ran.
Harder. Faster.
Behind him, the forest exploded with noise.
A monstrous bellow shook the canopy, sending birds screeching into the sky. Charging after him was a massive, boar-like beast, its hide covered in thick gray plating, and three spiraling horns protruding from its crown like spears.
The creature's eyes were blood-red and wild. Its breath reeked of decay and rot. Each stomp of its colossal hooves shattered trees and sent dirt flying like shrapnel.
Kaine didn't dare look back again.
"Dammit, Maicy," he growled, leaping over a gnarled log as the creature slammed through it moments later. "This method is completely insane!"
But he knew why she had chosen it.
The Trial of Provocation—an ancient and forbidden process. When a descendant failed to awaken a sin through traditional means, there was only one other path:
Force it out.
Push the soul to its breaking point. Trigger it through pain, pressure, and the raw instinct of survival.
If his sin was buried somewhere deep within him, this was the only way to drag it out kicking and screaming.
He dove under a crumbling tree arch as the beast roared behind him, snapping through the wood with ease. Sweat soaked Kaine's shirt. His legs burned. His lungs screamed.
But he didn't stop.
Because if he did—
He'd die.
And in the Aphelgustine family, dying Sinless was worse than not being born at all.