The rain had stopped, leaving the city slick and glistening under the neon haze. Steam rose from drains like restless spirits, twisting in the empty streets. I wandered aimlessly, hands deep in my pockets, trying to calm the storm of thoughts inside my head. Every step made me acutely aware of the world's noises—the distant rumble of a passing truck, the subtle drip of water from a broken gutter, the whisper of wind through shattered signs.
But my senses were different now. Sharper. Wider. I could hear the pulse of life around me—small, fragile, but distinct. My own heartbeat seemed to sync with it, vibrating with something… ancient. The power that had awakened in the alley yesterday was no longer a whisper. It hummed through my veins like molten metal, ready to flow, ready to act.
I needed to understand it.
The Experiment
I stopped in front of a discarded trash can, its lid slightly ajar. Tentatively, I stretched out a hand, palm facing down. A faint tremor ran through the metal lid, and for a heartbeat, it hovered slightly above the ground. My eyes widened.
"Okay… okay," I muttered to myself, exhaling slowly. "So I can do this."
I tried again. This time, more deliberately. Focusing. Willed it with every ounce of thought and intent. The lid floated fully, spinning slowly, wobbling in midair before dropping softly back onto the can. My pulse raced, and a grin split my face.
"I… I'm doing it."
I experimented for hours—or maybe minutes, time felt strange. I lifted trash, a few loose bricks, even a broken bottle. Each attempt was tiring, physically and mentally, yet exhilarating. It was like dancing with a part of myself I hadn't known existed, a rhythm I had been born to follow.
And then I noticed the mark.
A faint glow under my wrist, barely visible, like a pulse of light trapped under skin. I hadn't seen it before. It was subtle but steady, syncing with the rhythm of the objects I moved. A symbol? A rune? I didn't know, but something told me it was a sign. A part of the Omoyogi bloodline awakening within me.
The First Encounter
I wandered further, toward the edge of the industrial district. Broken machinery, abandoned warehouses, flickering lights—perfect isolation for someone testing newfound powers.
And that's when I saw it: a figure crouched atop a rusted shipping container, its movements unnatural, eyes glowing faintly red in the shadows.
I froze. My pulse spiked, but not with fear. Anticipation. Recognition. Something about this presence… familiar, dangerous.
The figure leapt down with a thump that shook the cracked pavement. Its body was human-like, yet not. Runes glowed faintly along its arms, and a strange aura shimmered around its form. Murim energy, but… mixed with something else. Something technological.
A hybrid.
"You're awake," it said, voice low, almost melodic but edged with sharpness. "The bloodline stirs. I've been waiting for this moment."
I swallowed hard. "Who… who are you?"
The figure tilted its head. "I am a scout of what you will one day call Murim's shadow, a servant of those who recognize your power. But power is meaningless if untamed. Let me test you."
Before I could respond, it lunged.
The First Battle
Time slowed again. I had felt this before, but now it was more intense. The world's noises fell away; the presence of my opponent dominated my senses. Every movement, every step, every flicker of energy was visible.
I raised my hands instinctively. Objects in my surroundings—bricks, shards of metal, even loose trash—lifted slightly, hovering. I focused on the figure.
Energy collided in the air, invisible to the untrained eye but real to me. The first strike hit me like a windwave, and I was thrown back, scraping along the wet pavement. Pain lanced my side, but it didn't stop me. It taught me.
I remembered the alley, the pulse, the ember inside my chest. Channeling it, I rose. Bricks and metal flew around me, swirling like a storm. I pushed forward. The figure dodged, agile, but I could anticipate its movements now, reacting before thought could reach my brain.
It hissed, a sound like metal grinding against bone. "Not bad… for a beginner."
I clenched my fists, feeling the rune glow stronger under my skin. "Beginner?" I whispered. "I'm just getting started."
I focused my will, imagining the objects as extensions of my body. A brick slammed into its shoulder; a metal shard nicked its arm. Small, precise. The figure hissed again, then leapt back, observing.
"You have the Omoyogi bloodline… but raw, unrefined. You'll need guidance," it said, voice calm but sharp. "Strength alone won't save you in this world. You will need control, knowledge, and vision. And danger is always closer than you think."
I nodded, panting, chest burning. "I… I understand. I'll learn."
The figure's gaze lingered on me for a long moment. Then, without another word, it vanished into the shadows.
I stood alone, dripping with rainwater, bruised and exhausted—but alive. More than alive. Awake.
The Realization
I sat on a broken crate, letting the wet fabric of my clothes cling to my skin. Every muscle throbbed, every nerve burned, and yet I couldn't stop smiling.
This was only the beginning.
I could feel it—the bloodline in me, ancient and waiting. Not just a power, but a legacy. One that I would carry, shape, and eventually pass on. And someday… those who followed me would inherit a strength beyond imagination, each of them bearing their own unique gifts, each one a step closer to something greater.
I flexed my fingers. The glow pulsed stronger, a heartbeat in my own. The city lay sprawling before me, indifferent and immense. And for the first time, I understood what it meant to be the first.
I was Minjae Omoyogi, and this world would remember my name.