8:35 PM — Aftermath.
(One hour since the Demon Faction's assault on the 3rd District General Bank)
The night sky hangs silent, painted in calm blues and scattered stars, as though the chaos from earlier had never scarred the earth. But the streets remember.
On the South Side of the 4th District, Levi limps alone down the cracked sidewalk. His jacket is torn, blood dripping steady from his side. Each step leaves a faint trail behind him, and yet—his eyes burn forward, refusing to close.
The city around him is quiet. Trash fires flicker in rusted bins, casting distorted shadows against graffiti-stained walls. The people linger in the dark—shopkeepers closing shutters, children ushered indoors, eyes watching him. Their gazes hold no disgust, only pity—the kind that stings sharper than hatred.
Levi clenches his teeth and shuffles on.
He enters a dim, derelict apartment building. The hallway hums with buzzing lights that flicker like dying fireflies. The silence here is deep, broken only by the wet slap of his boots against the floor.
He raises a bruised fist and knocks the door open.
Inside, a family sits frozen at the dinner table—a father, a mother, and their young child. For a heartbeat, no one moves. Then panic erupts. Chairs scrape violently against the floor, plates shatter, and the parents scramble to flee.
Levi steps forward, blocking the exit.
Levi lifts a trembling hand toward them—not in threat, but in quiet desperation. His fingers shake, slick with blood, his breathing uneven. For a brief, fragile moment, it looks like he's about to speak.
The parents hesitate. The child doesn't. Naively, the child reaches out—small fingers brushing Levi's palm. Something snaps.
A pulse surges—raw, involuntary.
SQUASH!!!
The sound is dull and sudden, like pressure collapsing inward. The child's body crumples instantly, flesh rupturing from the inside out. Blood splatters across the table and walls.
Silence.
Levi freezes.
His eyes widen—not in horror, but in stunned stillness. He hadn't meant to—
The father screams.
A chair crashes back as the man snatches a knife from the table and lunges forward in blind, animal rage.
Levi turns on instinct alone.
His palm meets the man's face.
A second pulse of Destruction fires—controlled this time.
The father drops lifelessly to the floor.
The mother collapses backward, sobbing, shrieking, clawing at the blood-slick tiles as reality shatters around her.
"No—please—please—"
Levi doesn't look angry.
He doesn't show any emotion at all.
He steps forward and places his hand against her face.
SQUASH!
The room falls quiet once more.
Levi staggers inside, breathing hard, scanning the room for bandages, cloth, anything to stop the bleeding. He finds nothing. He sinks into a corner of the room, head lowered, shadow stretching down the hallway.
Levi (low, bitter): "You waiting for an invitation? … Come and get me already. I know you're there."
From the silence, a presence emerges. A figure cloaked in black steps out from behind the wall, movements slow, deliberate. The air thickens with menace. Its shadow spills across the floor, crawling toward Levi like a beast ready to swallow him whole.
Levi tightens his fist, muscles tensing despite his wounds.
The figure lifts a hand. The tension spikes. Levi's eyes narrow—unblinking, ready.
And then—
The hood falls back.
A woman stands revealed, of Asian origin, golden-blonde hair spilling like molten sunlight, and eyes the color of fire—deep orange, glowing with quiet intensity. Her face is sharp yet graceful, her expression unreadable, cold as carved stone. She cannot be older than her mid-twenties, but her aura feels older, heavier.
Levi: "Wh–who are you?"
Cloaked Girl (calm, gentle, but without emotion): "My name is Nury Taiyo….. of the Red Moon clan."
The words drop like lead. Levi stares at her in disbelief.
Levi: " You expect me to believe that? Why'd you follow me here? Are you a Fighter? "
Levi tries to get a read on her—but Nury's face is empty. Not calm. Not guarded. Empty. Like staring at a wall that doesn't acknowledge you're there.
He can't tell if she's lying. Can't catch a flicker of intent.
But he feels it.
Her stardust presses against his senses—quiet, heavy, undeniable. Not flaring. Not threatening. Just there.
Enough to tell him she isn't bluffing.
Nury (voice steady):"Believe it or not—that's irrelevant. I'm here to extend you an offer."
Levi looks at her, confused. Perplexed, since he has no idea what she is about to offer him.
"I found you interesting."
(Her gaze sharpens, voice still calm)
"I watched you fight while monitoring The Crusher's dreadful, lukewarm performance. You were… splendid. Natural and raw, but tempered by instinct and experience. Not merely power."
Levi, even more confused now, tries to grasp her words.
Levi (confused): "You were there? What do you mean by monitoring?"
Nury:"I watched from a distance."
Levi 's eyes narrow.
Levi:"You knew about the heist…"
Nury: "Of course. We had an arrangement. The Crusher wanted into our faction. Even with our… exclusivity, the higher-ups found his ability worth exploiting. So we provided him with a Nichtronian artifact—an amplifier that boosts stardust levels."
Levi stiffens.
Levi:"So it was you who gave him the artifact? Why? Why not use it yourselves and take the money? Is that how the Red Moon operates—having smaller factions do the dirty work?"
Nury stares back at him, expression still unreadable.
Nury:"Our objective wasn't the money. We were testing him—and the artifact. Hoping to find something… anything… that might be useful against Hope. But that option is gone now."
Levi:"So you handed a psycho a powerful alien artifact and hoped he'd kill Hope. Interesting recruitment strategy."
Nury:"It was worth the attempt. At this point, we'll consider anything that gives us an edge against an Archangel—especially Hope."
Levi(dry laugh):"Ha. So now what—you don't want to go home empty-handed, so you came after me instead?"
Nury: "You're sharp. Yes. The Crusher is gone so is the artifact. If I return with nothing, my higher-ups won't be pleased."
(A brief pause.)
"So I decided to bring you instead. I have a feeling there's something about you… something that could serve us very well."
Her orange eyes glow faintly in the dim light.
The room falls silent.
Levi(low, cautious): "So that's your offer. You want me in."
Nury(nodding once):"In your current condition… I'd say it's better than nothing. So—will you become one of our Blades?"
Levi doesn't answer right away.
He looks down at his blood-soaked hands. Flexes his fingers slowly. The room still smells like iron and smoke. Somewhere deep inside, something stirs—not doubt, not fear.
Hunger.
Levi lifts his gaze to her.
Levi: "If I walk with you… there's no turning back, is there?"
Nury doesn't hesitate.
Nury: "No."
A grin spreads across Levi's face—slow, crooked, genuine.
Levi: "Good." (beat)
"The hell with it… I'm in."
For the first time, Nury's composure cracks—just barely. A faint smile touches her lips.
Nury: "Good. Let's go." (a beat)
"By the way… what's your name?"
Outside, the night deepens. On the rooftop, a sleek black jet-aircraft hovers in silence, its engines humming like a predator waiting in the dark.
A new path is forged.
Levi now walks toward a darker horizon—into the infamous ranks of the Red Moon clan.
"12 hours later…"
Far beyond the western hemisphere—across the Pacific Ocean—lies the country of Hinode. From the aircraft's window, Levi watches the land unfold below: ancient rice fields worked by farmers alongside elegant mechanical units, lantern-lit streets weaving seamlessly into towering holo-screens and steel spires.
Old shrines stand untouched beneath neon glow.
Technology hums—but never overwhelms.
There is no sign of war here. Only order.
Inside the aircraft, Levi sits opposite Nury. His body is wrapped in bandages—head, arms, and torso—the aftermath of a battle that nearly took his life. The faint hum of the engine fills the silence as his gaze remains fixed on the world below.
Nury:"Do you like what you see?"
(Her tone is gentle, almost kind, though her face remains a mask of cold composure)
He remains silent. Not an ounce of amusement in his face.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
(She tilts her head slightly, a hint of playfulness slipping through before vanishing)
"Is this your first time overseas?"
Levi: "Yes, it is."
Nury:"Very well. Then prepare yourself. What you've seen so far is only the surface… What lies ahead will show you more of this world than you've ever imagined… even beyond it—into outer space itself."
Levi's eyes narrow. He raises a brow at her words, but before he can respond, Nury's gaze shifts toward the window.
Nury:"…We've arrived."
The aircraft descends toward a hidden valley within the great mountains past the mist, revealing a colossal structure nestled into the cliffs—a monastery of impossible scale. Its crimson roofs gleam in the faint moonlight, pagodas stacked like stairways to the heavens, and massive stone statues of armored guardians flank the entrance. Energy conduits run like glowing veins across the outer walls, pulsing softly as if the building itself were alive.
The monastery rises so high it seems to merge with the mountain peaks, an ancient fortress reborn with futuristic power.
Levi leans forward slightly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes flicker with something he rarely shows—curiosity.
The jet-aircraft lands smoothly onto a vast metallic platform built into the mountainside. The landing bay is alive with motion: other sleek aircrafts and air-mobiles are stationed in neat rows, their black steel hulls gleaming under pale lantern-light. Ground crews in dark uniforms move with precise efficiency, loading weapons, maintaining vehicles, and disappearing into the shadows like clockwork.
Levi and Nury step off the craft, joined by three silent escorts. Each wears a fitted black suit and a traditional Oni mask—horned visages painted in blood-red and ivory, emotionless yet menacing. Their quiet footsteps echo against the platform as they march in formation toward the monastery's massive entrance.
A colossal wooden door rises before them, its surface carved with ancient sigils and two great red moons, one on each panel. The door groans as it begins to open, the sound like thunder rolling through stone. A gust of air rushes out, carrying with it the smell of incense, sweat, and steel.
Beyond lies an enormous courtyard. Levi's eyes narrow as he takes in the sight—rows upon rows of warriors clad in black, moving with brutal precision. Some practice sword katas with blades flashing under torchlight, others scale training walls with superhuman agility, and squads of masked fighters engage in full-contact sparring. Barked orders echo across the space as instructors stride among them, correcting stances and shouting commands. The sound of clashing steel, stomping feet, and strained breaths fills the night air.
Levi takes it in with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Levi:"Hah… you guys really are a big deal after all."
They continue down a long hall where adjoining chambers reveal more of Red Moon's hidden strength: monks meditating in silence beneath hanging scrolls, engineers dissecting strange weapons and ancient artifacts, and warriors undergoing cybernetic augmentation under the guidance of masked medics. Each corridor hums with the energy of discipline and controlled power.
Levi:"So this is why you brought me here? To make me your little soldier?"
Nury(shaking her head slightly): "Not exactly. When I asked you to become one of our Blades, I wasn't speaking metaphorically." (She gestures subtly to the warriors.)
"The warriors you see are our soldiers—loyal, strong, and necessary. They carry out missions suited to their rank as non-gifters." (Her gaze returns to Levi.)
"But you're different. You're not meant for simple obedience. You're meant for more." (A pause.)
"You're meant to become a Blade. The Blade is the highest rank within the Red Moon. It's more than a title."(Her voice hardens.)
"It is a burden—and a weapon."
Levi: "…So how many Blades are there?"
Nury: "There are six us."
Levi arches an eyebrow and quickly gazes at her.
Their steps finally come to a stop at a sealed chamber. Nury pushes the door open, revealing a vast empty room, except for a single object in the center: a massive bowl, filled to the brim, with water that reflects the torchlight like a mirror. The air inside feels colder, heavier—as if the room itself were watching.
Nury hands Levi a folded black samue set—traditional, minimal, ceremonial.
Nury:"Change into this. Wait here for further instructions."
As she turns to leave, her golden hair glimmers under the light for just a second. Without glancing back, she speaks one final time.
Nury:"A little advice… don't drink the water."
The heavy door closes behind her with a thud, leaving Levi in silence.
Levi exhales slowly and lowers himself into a corner, back against the wall. The folded black samue lies across his lap, untouched. His body aches—bandages tight against broken skin, ribs screaming with every breath—but he doesn't move. His eyes remain fixed on the bowl.
Minutes pass.
Then hours.
Nothing happens.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No sign—he's been forgotten.
The silence crawls under his skin.
He keeps count in his head. Seconds. Breaths. Heartbeats. Time is the only thing he still controls.
Seven hours.
Hunger gnaws at him. Thirst creeps in, scratching at the back of his throat. The water sits there, untouched, perfect. Too perfect.
By the twenty-third hour, the air changes.
Heat bleeds from the walls. Sweat beads along his brow, soaking into his bandages. The stone beneath him feels warm now—then hot. His breaths come heavier, sharper.
A flicker of light hums to life above him.
A blue holographic screen forms in midair.
Temperature: 100°F… rising.
Levi staggers to his feet. He slams his fists against the door, but his strikes are weak, his body too depleted. Snarling, he draws on his aura, preparing to unleash Destruction.
The instant his energy sparks, the floor lights up—then jolts him with a vicious current. His body convulses, teeth grinding. He collapses, smoldering, before trying again—only to be electrocuted once more. The moment his aura fades the current stops.
Levi: " What hell is going on?"
The hologram's text scrawled across the glowing pane:
Temperature: 107°F… rising.
Then a riddle–better yet, a hint. A text scrolls beneath the numbers.
"What's hard when dry but soft when wet."
Levi squints at the words, vision swimming. His gaze drifts—slowly—to the bowl. Then to the walls. Then back to the bowl.
Levi: "Huh…what?"
His throat burns.
Levi:"...clay?"
Understanding clicks—not clever, not sudden. Instinctual. Desperate.
With a final grunt of defiance, he hurled the bowl. The clay hissed, and softened.
The screen spikes—112°F. Levi doesn't hesitate. With a guttural roar, he slams his fist through the weakened clay. Stone shatters around him, and he stumbles into the open night air.
The sky greets him—clear, cold, dominated by a luminous full moon hanging above the monastery like a watchful eye. Levi gasps, desperate for oxygen. But there's no time—shurikens whistle through the air, kunais raining down from the shadows.
Levi rolls, barely evading the barrage. Warriors leap from rooftops, masked assassins flooding the courtyard like a swarm. Blades flash. Steel tears across his flesh, each wound chipping away at what little strength he has left. He staggers to one knee, blood dripping from his bandages.
They leap high, dozens ready to descend with lethal force.
And then—
A crimson aura ignites around Levi, bursting from his body like wildfire. His eyes burn red, hair whipped by the surge.
Destruction.
With a single motion, he slices through the air. The courtyard erupts—warriors sent flying, walls cracking under the wave of power. Silence follows, broken only by Levi's ragged breaths.
He pushes forward, limping but unbroken, until the vast main courtyard opens before him.
There, rows of warriors stand assembled—an army in black, still as statues. At their center, seated upon a throne-like chair of dark wood and iron, sits an old man with flowing white hair and beard. His presence alone radiates authority. His sharp eyes study Levi like a hawk eyeing prey.
Beside him, five masked figures sit—each wearing intricate Oni masks. Standing before them, six others in matching masks form an unyielding line. Their very presence sends a chill through Levi. Among them, he recognizes Nury, her fiery gaze piercing even from behind her mask.
Shogun:"Impressive, foreigner. To endure such suffering in your current condition… few would have survived."
(His voice rolls across the courtyard like a tolling bell—ancient, commanding. The gathered warriors remain silent as his sharp eyes gleam with measured intrigue)
"I have seen enough. The signs are clear. You are the prodigy my Blade spoke of—one worthy of standing at the threshold of the Seventh Blade."
Levi's smirk deepens, though his body trembles beneath the weight of exhaustion. The fire in his eyes burns undiminished.
The Shogun slowly strokes his beard, then leans forward upon his throne.
"However…"(A pause. Heavy. Deliberate.)
"…the path does not end here."
Levi's smile falters.
"By standing before me, you have invoked the old law. The title of Blade is not given—it is taken."
(His gaze sharpens, voice dropping into something darker)
"You will claim it in combat. You will wrest it from the one who was chosen before you—the previous prodigy, destined to become the Seventh Blade."
The air thickens. The moonlight seems to dim.
"Only one of you will rise."
The courtyard thickens with tension.
From the shadows steps a young man—six feet tall, his frame lean–athletic. Long brown hair tied back, his sharp face marred by a jagged scar running across his cheek. His eyes are calm, cold, unshaken.
The Shogun gestures.
Shogun:"Kayo Tensong. The one chosen before you. The boy destined to become the Seventh Blade."
Levi's lips curl into a twisted grin. His crimson aura flares faintly, even as his body trembles with exhaustion.
Levi (thinking):"I just need to beat him and take the spot–-Alright then… let's do this."
Kayo remains unfazed, stepping forward with silent confidence. His stance is flawless, honed by years of discipline.
The courtyard falls silent. Moonlight washes over the two of them, illuminating the battlefield.
The fate of the Seventh Blade will be decided tonight—beneath the Red Moon.