In a distant corner of the dark universes, a planet drifted like a sorrowful ghost...
Its sky wasn't merely dark—it was an abyss of infinite blackness, like a thick veil of eternal smoke choking every glimmer of light. No sun rose here; only a moon reflected faintly on its surface, and an all-consuming darkness devoured everything. The earth resembled fossilized charcoal, cracked with mysterious scars like ancient wounds from a catastrophe forgotten by time.
Mountains stood as colossal specters, carved from tar-black rocks, their peaks bowed as if bearing the weight of the heavens.
Rivers flowed not with water, but with a thick, murky liquid—perhaps cold magma or congealed toxins—whispering dreadfully as they ran.
The seas were nothing but expanses of cracked black glass, frozen in an unknown era, hiding beneath them countless secrets... or slumbering beasts.
The air hung heavy with corrosive metallic vapors, laced with a foul stench of decay and sulfur. No life existed here... or at least, no life as we know it. Yet deep below, beneath layers of pollution and darkness, something might still breathe... something waiting.
In the suffocating darkness, a shadowy gate materialized from the void, opening slowly like the maw of hell ready to swallow all. From its abyssal depths emerged the Dark King, radiating terrifying majesty, absolute authority, and an aura shrouded in mist-like obscurity. He ascended to the summit of this dark world, where black trees raised dagger-sharp branches that swayed violently in the raging winds. He sat beneath one, leaning against its rough trunk, and closed his profound eyes as if gathering strength for vengeance. Utterly still, only his long black hair thrashed wildly in the wind, revealing a face both dazzling and horrifying.
"Ha... ha... ha! I haven't laughed like this in ages!" His roar shook the ground, laced with mockery and grandeur. "I've deceived them all! If not for that person who spared me, I'd have shattered them like fragile glass... But..." He paused, defiance blazing in his eyes. "...I don't know if I can win in this state. So I played with their minds instead of brute force! What fools!"
He raised a cold hand and tore away the mask hiding his true face. As it fell, another visage emerged—radiant with dangerous, demonic beauty. Skin white and smooth as clouds under a moonlit sky, features carved with infernal precision. His violet eyes snapped open, black rings swirling like whirlpools within them, gazing upon the world with contempt...
"I need to rest..." he murmured, closing his eyes and sinking into a deep, coma-like slumber. "I haven't rested in so long..."
د"It wasn't always like this..."
Fifteen years earlier, on the planet Faryon—also ruled by heroes...
On Faryon, where heroes governed, the "Nile Elite" stood as a privileged class who believed themselves uniquely entitled to life. Members of this caste viewed others with disdain, convinced they alone deserved to exist. This sense of superiority permeated every aspect of their lives, from speech to their treatment of "lesser" beings.
"If you're not noble, you're nothing."
This phrase echoed through Faryon's society, a mantra of contempt for those outside the elite. Non-nobles were treated as second-class citizens, denied opportunities and privileges reserved for the upper class.
This discriminatory social system deepened divides and bred constant tension. The heroes who ruled the planet—supposed protectors of all—seemed only to serve the interests of the "Nobles," further marginalizing others.
In this world, non-elites fought a daily battle for survival and recognition, while the "Nile" clung fiercely to their status and power...
"The two sides were separated by the heroes."
In the slums, a house erupted with noise early one morning. An annoyed neighbor shouted: "Who in hell's name is making that racket?!"
A beautiful young girl slowly opened the window, bowing in apology... "I'm sorry. My brother won't wake up any other way."
"It's fine. We know you've got that foolish boy. We're not upset with you—just that irresponsible brat."
"Tsk, tsk. If that girl were from a rich family, she'd be destined for greatness. But fate had other plans..."
The girl closed the window, disheartened... She darted to the corner of the room, then veered toward the bed near the door. Leaping high, she landed squarely on the blanket-covered figure sleeping there. A pained yell followed:
"Aghhh! What the hell?! Who jumped on me?!"
He tossed his head side to side but saw no one, his face flushing red with anger... Something shifted under the blanket—a glimpse of long black hair. His expression softened: it was his little sister.
The young man stood before her. Pale features, short black hair accentuating his charm. His violet eyes glinted, hinting at hidden depths. Tall and lean, with a frame that spoke of agility, he fixed her with a sharp gaze: "Why'd you wake me?" Annoyance and tension radiated from him.
"Get up! Time for the academy!" she chimed playfully.
He grumbled, "Fine... No point arguing over nonsense..."
He was an 18-year-old teenager, required to attend the city's C-Class Hero Academy—a place that mixed nobles and commoners. Unfortunately, he belonged to a poor family of three: his father, mother, and little sister (four years younger). All families, rich or poor, sent children to develop their physical and intellectual abilities—to rise in this world.
The academy cultivated talents ranging from C to B-rank... its limits, given its resource-poor city. Many talents gathered there... but
His sister was a genius—an SS-rank talent. She learned everything instantly—combat, defense, academics—topping her class. Tragically, their family's poverty meant she couldn't afford an elite S-A-rank city academy. Her gift was withering in this backwater.
He was her opposite: no talent, no strength, no abilities—nothing. He embodied the word "trash." Lazy, friendless, and unsupported...
Except by his famil. Outwardly, he hid it—but inside, he ached for power. By day, he feigned apathy; by night, he trained late in the mountains... uselessle. Every effort led to one outcome: failure. Yet he never gave up.
Alone in the mountains, his breaths echoed in the silent air. Like a wounded warrior, he fought a hidden battle. Moonlight reflected in his violet eyes—a mix of defeat and stubborn hope.
He remembered pretending indifference by day while classmates mocked him as "weakling." But night revealed his double life: training with unbreakable resolve, each failure fueling greater determination.
That night, he reached his breaking point. After hours of grueling effort, he collapsed, clutching dirt as if willpower alone could conjure strength. His sister's bright smile flashed in his mind—the force that drove him back up.
"Can't surrender now," he whispered hoarsely. "One more try... If I fail, I quit."
Painfully, he rose. Pain lived in every bone. But he knew true strength came from spirit, not flesh. He tried gathering mana—energy he'd never harnessed. Particles of power slowly coalesced, flowing like water through his veins.
"I did it!" he gasped, joy piercing the gloom. For the first time, something real. A smile lit his eyes like unseen sunlight.
Gently, he opened his right hand. Energy swirled, forming a small orb of light. "I can do this!" he challenged. The energy solidified—a tennis-ball-sized sphere...
Suddenly, darkness erupted, swallowing the light. A barrier of shadows encased him.
A whisper hissed:
"You are the Chosen One. You who will lead the darkness to drown the worlds. You who stands beside the shadows. Only five years remain. Soon you will be reborn as our King. Until then... you will lose those dearest to you. You will see the true face of darkness."
He recoiled, terrified: "Who are you?! What does this mean?! I won't be anyone's king! Touch my family—and you'll regret it!"
No reply. The shadow vanished. Exhausted, he surrendered. "No point... No progress."
He stared silently at the clear sky, haunted by the day's memories...
Nobles bullying poor students—helpless kids who could only endure beatings until the elites grew bored, leaving them like battered sacks.
Strangely, ranked heroee visited the academy as "honored guests" that day. None intervened. They watched as a noble kicked a student unconscious. No one helped.
He'd watched from the academy's upper floor, seething...
"Tsk. Pathetic. You let him beat you senseless just to avoid expulsion? Believing in their filthy 'justice'? This world... is rotten."
As fury burned in him... a wind gusted. Leaves scattered wildly... then stilled.
"Swoosh..." "Ah... this breeze. How long since I breathed fresh air?"
He stood, gazing at his hand suspended in the air:
"I wish... I had a friend. Or power... to protect those I love. Forget it. Time for sleep."
Grabbing his towel from a nearby tree, he left.
The next day
He woke, still unsettled by yesterday's sight—heroes standing idle as cruelty unfolded.
"Infuriating. If I had power then... I'd have killed him."
But "if" was a delusion for the weak.
"If I were him... why bother? When you have power... who cares about justice?"
His sister Amisha's voice snapped him from his thoughts:
"Brother, philosophizing again? Justice protects the weak from evil! Promise me you'll always defend what's right! Work harder! Hey—met any girls yet? You're 18! Don't you want a girlfriend?"
"Stop. No time for nonsense. 'If you want no trouble, cut it at the root.' I've ripped love from my heart. It's useless."
"Fine, fine. Back to your old-man talk. No girl will approach you like this!"
"I only care about protecting my family. Nothing else matters. Let's go to the academy."
As they approached the academy's front gate, a girl appeared—long hair, deep blue eyes, slender frame. Beautiful... yet
His face twisted in disgust. She was the academy's worst troublemaker—a magnet for chaos. He veered aside, calling his sister to avoid the "snake"...
But she was F-rank—faster than ordinary humans.
She caught up, eyeing them up and down before speaking...