Centuries ago, before empires rose and fell, before the first whispers of technology replaced the crackle of fire and steel, Kai was already there. Not born, not made, simply… present. The universe had a way of shaping its constants, and Kai was one of them. He had lived through wars that scarred continents, through rulers who thought themselves gods, through plagues and revolutions. Yet he remained untouched by time, unshaken by history, a solitary witness to the unending cycle of humanity.
He learned quickly that longevity alone was not enough. Centuries of survival required more than strength—it demanded patience, observation, and subtlety. Kai had acquired wealth the old-fashioned way: knowledge, influence, investments that matured over decades. Yet he did not flaunt it. He lived humbly, like a mangaka tucked away in a modest apartment, surrounded by sketches, old texts, and the occasional cup of bitter tea. His wealth, though vast enough to rival empires, was a tool, a secret edge hidden behind the veneer of simplicity.
Kai had seen immortals before. Some were reckless, others cruel. He had learned to measure not by age, but by discipline. Among the immortals who would one day form his squad, he recognized their potential at first glance. Each had survived centuries, yet only those who could temper power with wisdom could truly stand alongside him.
The first of his companions he met was Jin, the True Immortal. Unlike Kai, Jin carried his immortality visibly, a force of will that radiated from every deliberate movement. He was untouchable, yet grounded, moral and decisive in a way that even Kai respected. Their first encounter was not grandiose. No battle heralded it. Jin had been testing himself in solitude when Kai approached, a quiet observer.
"You move as if you own time itself," Kai said, voice calm, precise. "And yet, you hesitate."
Jin had glanced at him, brow slightly raised, stance still, as if measuring the weight of a shadow he had not expected. "I do not own time," Jin replied, eyes steady. "But I will not let it master me."
It was enough. Kai understood immediately. This one, this True Immortal, was not chaos. He was focus. Together, they would form the backbone of the squad.
Brak was another story entirely. A barbarian immortal, born in an age Kai had long forgotten, Brak loved violence with the joy of a child discovering fire for the first time. Yet despite the chaos that followed him like storm clouds, Kai saw potential. Brak was loyalty incarnate, untamable but unbreakable.
Brak's human companions—his harem, as some would jokingly call them—were drawn to him not by fear, but by fascination. Sora dared him to feats of strength he sometimes regretted, Aya pranked him with a cunning grin that matched his own, Haru offered calm advice he mostly ignored, Emi captured his battles in sketches, and Riku provided gadgets that sometimes backfired spectacularly. Brak adored them all, and they loved him in return, giving him a connection to humanity that his immortality alone could not provide.
Lia, Brak's sister, was a counterpoint to all the chaos. Ageless and serene, she moved through the centuries with a grace that was almost ethereal. Where Brak burned with reckless energy, Lia cooled with reason, keeping the squad tethered to civility. Her mortal friend, Yui, provided emotional balance—reminding Lia that even the ageless could find value in human simplicity.
CJ was the last to complete the immortal squad. The Reincarnation Immortal, a wild card of endless lives, CJ carried the experience of centuries compressed into one mind. Curious, unpredictable, playful, yet capable of profound tactical insight. Takeshi, their mortal companion, helped CJ navigate the modern world, ensuring their reincarnations did not become untethered from the present.
Yet even among immortals, danger could appear unbidden. Akane Hoshigami, immortal herself, was one such anomaly. She loved Jin in a way that was both beautiful and horrifying. Each attack was a declaration of devotion, each strike a testament to obsession. Kai observed her from a distance, disapproval settled deep in his chest. He hated her. Not for the damage she inflicted—he could see through Jin's immortality—but for the chaos she sowed, the imbalance she created. Obsession without reason was a threat, and Kai had spent centuries learning how to control threats without succumbing to emotion.
Kai's life of centuries had taught him restraint. Wealth, skill, and immortality were meaningless without purpose. And purpose demanded leadership. Unlike others who might seize power with arrogance, Kai's authority was quiet, earned over centuries of observation and decisive action. He did not need to dominate through fear—he led because he was the anchor, the immovable center around which others could revolve.
The first time he demonstrated this leadership in action was subtle. Akane attacked Jin once more, seeking to "prove her love" with lethal precision. Brak roared in frustration, CJ prepared to intervene, and Lia's calm was strained at the edges. Yet Kai moved first.
He did not shout, did not rush. He approached the chaos with measured steps, observing, analyzing, calculating. When Brak lunged forward, Kai intercepted—not with brute force, but with strategy. One hand on Brak's shoulder, one eye on Akane, one mind threading through possibilities.
Jin moved, too, as if sensing the balance Kai imposed. He could have ended Akane in an instant, a perfect sigma strike of precision and control. And yet, he didn't. Kai's calm presence allowed Jin the space to act morally, to demonstrate restraint, to disarm without unnecessary harm.
Later, on a rainy rooftop, Jin would have his sigma moment. Akane lunged again, a flash of steel, a deadly arc designed to test the limits of immortality itself. Jin's eyes narrowed, not in fear, but in focus. He moved like water, reading her intent before it materialized. The blade passed harmlessly; he redirected it without aggression. Every movement was deliberate. Every breath calculated. He disarmed her, leaving her frozen in disbelief.
Kai watched from the shadows. This was why Jin was the heart of the squad. Power alone was not enough. Sigma moments, discipline, and moral clarity were what held them together. And Kai, for all his wealth, skill, and centuries of experience, could not replicate that. But he could lead, he could guide, he could anchor the squad through centuries of threats, from Akane to Kazuto and beyond.
The day they all met in earnest, the five immortals and their mortals, the squad dynamic solidified. Brak's chaos mingled with Jin's discipline. Lia's calm tempered Brak, CJ's wild card energy tested everyone, and Kai observed, weighed, calculated. Their mortals added grounding: Ren's rational insight with Kai, Mika's empathy with Jin, Yui's gentleness with Lia, Takeshi's curiosity with CJ, and Brak's harem, a chaotic human tie to a violent, immortal heart.
The squad was ready. Not invincible—nothing was. But united. Anchored. Balanced.
And somewhere in the shadows, Kazuto observed. The entity from Z, flying, omniscient, and relentless. The game had begun.
Kai adjusted his coat, glanced at the group, and smiled faintly. Wealth, power, centuries of wisdom—all meaningless if he could not guide this group through what was coming. He had survived for centuries by being patient, calculated, and prepared. But now, with threats mounting and lives hanging in balance, he understood fully: being the best immortal to lead meant not dominating, not overpowering, but holding together the last threads of what truly mattered.
For Kai, leadership was not about being invincible—it was about ensuring that those who mattered could survive, thrive, and fight another day.
And so, the anchor held firm, as it always had, and the immortals prepared for the storm to come.