I didn't grow up like most people.
No family. No name. Just me—unnoticed, unwanted, and quiet.
The only person who ever cared enough to keep me alive was an old man with a strange name: Twelve Star Feral Precise. He was rough around the edges, always muttering things no one understood, but he knew how to survive. And he taught me the same.
How to move in silence.
How to stay hidden.
How to fight if I had to—but never draw attention if I didn't.
He wasn't affectionate. But he gave me food, shelter, and his time. That was enough.
Then, before I even turned eight, he died.
Just like that.
No warning. No last words. No answers.
I didn't cry. I just kept moving, the way he taught me. Quiet. Careful.
What no one knew—what not even he knew—was that I had a secret.
A dangerous one.
When I was three, I discovered something.
A force that hummed through my body, strange and powerful, unlike anything I'd ever seen.
I could shape it. Control it. Burn with it.
It felt like magic, but more... ancient. Wild. Like it didn't belong in this world.
So I hid it. I didn't tell anyone. Not even Master.
Because in a world that fears the unknown, power like that doesn't make you special.
It makes you a target.
All I wanted was a peaceful life. A simple life.
But the world had other plans.
I remember the exact moment everything changed.
I had just turned eighteen.
I was walking alone near a crumbling church on the edge of the village, looking for ingredients to make a birthday cake. Nothing fancy. Just something sweet. Something that reminded me I was still alive.
Then the air shifted. Heavy. Unnatural.
I didn't see anything. Didn't hear anything.
But I felt it.
Something pulled me.
Hard.
Like invisible hands tearing me from the world.
And then—I was no longer there.
I stood before four beings. Divine. Terrifying.
The Goddess of Elements, her hair a stormcloud of lightning.
The God of Technology, encased in glowing metal.
The God of War, red-eyed, scarred, holding a blade that bled light.
And the God of Creation, who said nothing, but felt like he knew everything.
I thought maybe I had been chosen.
That this was my calling.
That my power finally made sense.
But then, they looked at me. Not with awe or hope.
With disgust.
— "You shouldn't live. You're in our way."
That's what they said before they destroyed me.
And everything went black.
I woke up choking on air that didn't belong to me.
New sky. New world. New body.
They called it Earth.
I was thirteen.
My head throbbed. My skin felt wrong. And when I looked into a mirror—
It wasn't my reflection.
It was his.
Mu Gong-heo.
And the memories came like shattered glass—cutting, loud, not mine.
Mu Gong-heo was quiet. Strange. He wore a black half-mask every day. His long black hair was always hidden beneath a white wig. His eyes—too sharp, too bright—were buried under colored contacts.
He wasn't trying to be mysterious.
He was hiding.
I only saw fragments. Flashes. Moments of his life, drowned in silence.
But I understood one thing:
This world was different.
Here, kids awaken powers when they turn eight.
By fifteen, they become Hunters—soldiers with supernatural gifts who climb towers, fight monsters, and live under something called the System.
Mu Gong-heo never awakened.
He tried. Twice.
Both times, the machine failed.
Now I know why.
Because the machine couldn't read him.
It couldn't read me.
That night, I tested it.
I held out my hand and focused.
A flicker.
Then flame.
Alive.
Real.
Mine.
Even in this new world… my power followed.
They tried to erase me.
They threw me here, buried me inside someone else.
But I'm still standing.
Still breathing.
Still burning.
This time…
I won't run.
I won't hide.
I won't waste the second chance they never meant to give me.
Not ever again.
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End of Chapter 1
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