Five years had passed since the final battle against the cosmic being — Hammarr.
Jaze travelled the lands, oceans, and skies in search of a Worthy successor.
He sought a successor — someone worthy to inherit his mantle — yet each search ended in disappointment. Still, he walked on, burdened, tired, and hungry, refusing to rest until his purpose was fulfilled.
One day, as he crossed a crowded village street, he saw him.
The one who would take over everything.
A boy — no older than thirteen — darted through the market with a vase of flowers clutched to his chest, pursued by a band of shouting men.
"Damn, he's fast!"
"Shit, we lost him already!"
The boy vanished into an alley. When the men gave up, Jaze approached him calmly.
"Nice flowers you've got there. Who are they for?"
"Huh? Get lost, old man! Nobody asked you," the boy snapped, still clutching the vase.
"You know," Jaze said with a faint smile, "I could report you to the authorities."
The boy froze. His voice softened.
"They're… for my parents. They're gone. This is all I can do for them."
"I see."
Jaze's tone shifted — deep, resolute. "What's your name?"
"…Shita. That's all."
"Shita." The name lingered on Jaze's tongue. "Would you like to become my student — and my successor?"
Shita blinked, wary. "What'd you just say?"
"Become my student, and I'll grant you protection — and the strength to never run again."
Shita hesitated, then nodded slowly.
From that day forward,the veil of fate was lifted.