The wind howled across the An'Raku Desert.
Red dunes stretched endlessly into the distance. Atop one of them stood a boy, still and silent, like a statue carved against the storm.
His black uniform rippled in the gusts. Golden embroidery on his sleeves and collar shimmered under the harsh sun. His long white hair, tipped with gold, was partially tied back. On his back, a black-and-gold katana crossed a second blade strapped to his waist.
His eyes were calm. Cold.
He watched the caravan below, surrounded by armed men.
"That's… That's impossible…" stammered an old man on his knees.
"The Kura Clan… left no heir… They were wiped out a hundred years ago."
The boy stepped forward without a word.
Each footstep in the sand left a perfect imprint, as if he carried no weight at all.
"What's your name?" shouted one of the armed men.
"You wear the Kura uniform… Are you mocking the dead?"
The boy slowly lifted his gaze.
His voice fell, clear, detached, emotionless:
> "I am Kael. And that name is all you need to know."
A murmur spread among the men. The name made the elders tremble.
It should never have been spoken again.
Another man stepped forward, younger, agitated.
"Show your right arm. The Kura mark, if it's real, will be there."
Kael said nothing. He calmly removed his black glove.
Beneath his dark skin, a golden star gleamed, tattooed into his forearm.
Silence fell.
"…It's him…" whispered an old man.
"The last son of the vanished clan… the Black Child of the Sands."
Kael put his glove back on and resumed walking.
"Wait!" shouted a soldier.
"If you're truly a Kura… then you must face the Sand Demon!"
Kael stopped instantly.
He slowly raised his eyes toward the horizon, where a column of black smoke rose into the sky.
Distant screams echoed, breaking the desert's silence.
The demon was real.
An ancient beast, born of a forgotten pact.
It had ravaged the villages for generations.
No warrior had survived its wrath.
Kael said nothing. He turned his back on the crowd, walking slowly toward the valley where the monster waited.
Someone whispered behind him:
"He's going to die."
But Kael, in his mind, thought something else:
> I don't need them to believe in me. I don't need them to understand.
My role here is clear. I am the child of the vanished clan. Nothing more.
He placed his hand on the hilt of his katana.
> And for this role, I already have everything I need.
---
Far away, on a rocky height, a hooded figure watched the scene unfold.
The wind snapped at its cloak, but the figure didn't move.
In a gloved hand, it held an old medallion.
A faint red light pulsed once… then vanished.
It remained silent.
Its hidden eyes fixed on Kael, far below in the sands.
---
In the desert, Kael paused.
The ground trembled beneath his feet.
A deep rumble grew louder. The demon was approaching.
He closed his eyes.
And softly, he whispered:
> "The only thing I can't explain in this universe… are emotions.
Because I am myself devoid of them."