Jaden sat cross-legged on a worn-out mat, his eyes closed in deep meditation. The dim glow of two flickering candles cast long shadows on the stone walls. Despite his stillness, his mind was anything but calm. The memories haunted him—fresh, sharp, and painful as if they had happened just yesterday.
He still remembered his father's voice, cold and unforgiving. Lord Zu, the feared leader of the Demon Slayers, was never a loving father. He was a man of discipline, power, and ruthless strength. And in his eyes, Jaden was nothing more than a disgrace.
Jaden was only eight years old when it happened. He and his younger sister, Luna, had been playing near a towering rock close to the edge of a cliff. Their laughter echoed through the open field, a rare moment of joy in their otherwise harsh lives. But their happiness was short-lived.
A shadow loomed over them.
Lord Zu's hand shot forward, grabbing Jaden by the collar. The boy gasped as he was yanked off his feet, his small hands clawing at his father's iron grip. Panic set in as he felt himself being dragged toward the cliff's edge.
"Dad! Please, stop!" Luna's desperate voice rang through the air, her tiny hands gripping their father's leg. She trembled, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded.
Lord Zu didn't even glance at her. His expression was one of utter disappointment. "Your brother is too soft. Let me teach him what a real man is."
Jaden's eyes widened in horror. He knew what was coming. His body shook uncontrollably as fear wrapped its icy fingers around his heart. His legs flailed, but Lord Zu's grip was unrelenting. He tried to speak, to beg, but only broken sobs came out.
"Dad, please!" Luna wailed, still holding on. "If Mom were alive, she would never let you do this!"
At the mention of their mother, Lord Zu's eyes darkened. His voice, cold and devoid of emotion, cut through the air. "Maybe your mother was too soft. That's why Jaden is weak. No son of mine will be a weakling. I, the Lord of the Demon Slayers, will not have a disgrace for a son."
And with that, he let go.
Jaden felt himself plummet. The wind roared in his ears, and his heart pounded as the ground rushed up to meet him. Luna's screams faded into the distance as his small body crashed into the jagged rocks below. Pain exploded through him—his bones shattered, his vision blurred, and the world faded to black.
Up above, Luna collapsed to her knees, her entire world crumbling before her. "JADEN!" she screamed, her voice raw with anguish. She stayed there, unmoving, her tears carving silent paths down her cheeks. Days passed, yet she didn't move, frozen in grief.
But fate had other plans for Jaden.
He had survived.
Barely.
His broken body had been carried away by the river, battered and bruised beyond recognition. He lay by the riverside, unable to move, barely able to breathe. His vision was dark, his strength gone, his spirit crushed. He was waiting for death to take him, to end the unbearable pain.
Then came the soft crunch of footsteps on the forest floor.
Master Shang, a wandering herbalist, had been searching for rare medicinal plants when he stumbled upon the boy's broken body. His sharp eyes widened as he crouched down, fingers pressing lightly against Jaden's pulse.
Weak… but still alive.
With practiced hands, he lifted the boy into his arms, his face unreadable. "You're not dying today, boy," he murmured, already calculating what herbs he would need.
And so, the weakling who had been cast away was given another chance at life.
A chance… for revenge