Prologue – Higan Street, Year 1890
It was a night swallowed in darkness.
Cold winds whispered through the narrow alleys of Higan Street, and the dim streetlamps flickered like dying fireflies, barely holding their glow against the creeping shadows. The entire street seemed to be holding its breath.
Four boys, no older than seventeen, laughed loudly as they strolled down the lane — their voices echoing through the silence like cracks in glass.
"Look at this freak," one of them snickered, pointing ahead.
There, standing under a crooked lamp, was a lone boy — seventeen, silent, motionless, almost ghostlike in presence. His eyes were deep and cold, yet burned with something dangerous.
Another boy chuckled, nudging his friend. "Isn't he the one whose mother we—"
"Yeah, yeah!" the third one interrupted, laughing cruelly. "That dumb woman screamed so much before she died. And look at him… still broken about it."
Their words were venom. They knew what they had done, and they took pleasure in it.
The fourth one stepped forward with a cruel grin, "So boys… what do you say? Let's make him just like his mommy, shall we?"
The moment those words hit the air, the boy's eyes flared.
They weren't just angry — they were furious, like a volcano ready to erupt.
He stepped forward, drew a symbol onto the ground with his own blood, and muttered, almost whispering:
"Kill away."
The air turned ice cold.
And in a heartbeat — the first boy was sliced clean in half from the center of his chest, his body collapsing with a wet thud.
There was no blade, no attacker. Just a sudden, invisible force — swift and merciless.
The other three froze in horror.
"What the hell—? RUN!!" one of them screamed, but it was already too late.
One after another, the same invisible force struck.
Limbs were torn, blood painted the cobbled stones, and soon, only one boy remained — trembling, on his knees, face soaked in tears.
"Please! Please don't kill me!" he begged. "I'll give you anything — money, my life, whatever you want. Just forgive me. I swear, I'll never hurt anyone again…"
The Spirit Master stepped toward him — calm, cold, and merciless.
He looked into the boy's eyes and whispered:
"I only want one thing…
Your life."
He raised a single hand — and the invisible force cut him down like the others.
The street fell silent again.
And then, as if offering a toast to the unseen force, the boy lifted his palm — blood dripping from it — and said softly:
"I offer you the share of a human blood. Have it."
Scene II – The Whispering Pact
The streets of higan were silent again. Four bodies lay mangled and broken, soaked in crimson. The Spirit Master stood still, his hand still dripping with blood.
Behind him, the air shimmered faintly — the presence of something unseen. A voice, low and serpentine, echoed inside his mind.
"You've done well. Look at them... All gone. Just like that."
The Spirit Master didn't respond. His eyes stared at the blood, blank. Numb.
The voice slithered on.
"You feel guilty. I know. But this… this is just the beginning. You and I, we can do so much more together."
The boy finally whispered, "This was never the plan. You were meant to protect me. That's all."
The spirit chuckled softly.
"Protect you? I have. And I can do more than just protect you. I can help you change the world."
He turned slowly, still not able to see the spirit, but sensing it closer now. "Change the world?"
"Yes. Think about it. You've seen what people are capable of — the cruelty, the lies, the filth. Those four boys were just a taste of it. But imagine a world where only the good survive. Where justice is absolute. Where no one can harm others… because we won't let them.
And only you can make that world. But only… with me."
He clenched his fists. "I can't… not like this. The priest said…"
"The priest?" the voice hissed.
"He wants to seal me away. He wants you to forget the pain, the truth. He wants to bury what happened like it was nothing. Is that what you want?"
"I don't know…"
"He stands in the way of progress. Of a world where no one suffers as you did. Kill one… just one more soul… and you'll make room for millions to live without fear. Isn't that worth it?"
The boy trembled. "He helped me. He was kind."
"And kindness isn't enough to change the world. You need power. You need conviction. Just one step, and we reshape this world. Together."
The spirit's voice lowered, deeper now, like thunder murmuring beneath the earth.
"Don't you trust yourself? Don't you believe that you'll do the right thing? You were chosen by the school temple itself for this power. That isn't chance… it's fate. This is a sign from the gods, child. Don't waste it."
The Spirit Master closed his eyes.
A long, heavy silence.
Then…
He nodded.
Scene III – The Betrayal
Later that evening, under the candlelight of the quiet monastery, the priest looked up with a warm smile.
"You look better now," he said gently. "I can feel the change. It's time. Give him back to me — the spirit. It's too dangerous to keep any longer."
The boy remained still.
Then softly, barely audible, he said:
"I'm sorry."
The priest's smile faded. "What?"
"I have a responsibility… to make a better world."
The words came out like ice.
"I never wanted to. But I've seen too much. Too much evil. Too much pain. You'll try to stop this. And I can't let that happen."
"No. No, you don't know what you're doing—" the priest started, stepping forward.
But it was too late.
The boy whispered, "End him."
And in a blink — the invisible force struck again.
The priest never even finished his sentence.
His eyes widened in shock as he collapsed to the floor, blood spilling out in silence.
The Spirit Master stood there, trembling.
Behind him, a shadow moved — for the first time taking shape. A silhouette barely visible, like smoke in the dark.
The spirit leaned in close behind him and whispered:
"Let's shape this world… in our own way."
Scene IV – 25 Years Later (1915)
The world had moved on.
But not from what had begun that night.
The sun began to rise over the distant mountains. Warm light spilled into the wooden house nestled in a sleepy countryside village.
Inside a small bedroom, a boy lay tangled in his blanket — motionless, lost in dreams he would soon forget.
"Sumiyoshi!"
A voice echoed from below the house — sharp, familiar, full of life.
"Sumiyoshi!"
The boy jolted awake, eyes wide, gasping softly like he'd surfaced from deep water. His heart pounded as he looked around, disoriented.
The morning had arrived.
But what was about to begin…
was far darker than any dream.