What the hell is going on? Why does everything feel like it's repeating…?
Ichigo clutched his head, the thought echoing like a broken record. A strange force pulsed in the air—powerful, ancient, and alive. The sky outside crackled with energy, and shadows whispered secrets he couldn't understand.
Suddenly, everything around him changed.
He stood in a vast, unfamiliar room swallowed by darkness. It wasn't a dream. The air was thick, the walls cold and breathing like some living entity. He could feel something watching him. His instincts flared.
Then—boom!
A sudden surge of light erupted from his body.
His mana… no, something far older… had awakened.
What the hell is happening?
The clock read 2:03 a.m. The house was eerily silent.
He ran outside. Rain hammered the ground like war drums. The village he'd known all his life was unrecognizable.
Blood stained the earth.
Bodies were scattered. Lifeless.
And his family… gone.
His chest tightened, breath rapid. Then—he saw them. Footprints, half-washed by the rain, leading toward the hill.
He ran.
His vision blurred. Heart pounding. The storm raged around him like the world itself wanted him dead.
Four hours passed. Maybe more.
He followed the trail to a broken bridge, the river beneath it roaring with fury. Nearby, a massive tree loomed, its twisted branches like claws. Ichigo collapsed beneath it, hiding, desperate.
Then, he felt it.
Eyes. Cold. Observing.
Before he could move, a hand clamped over his mouth. He was yanked up into the branches, heart pounding.
A whisper: "Quiet."
The royal postman. And beside him—
"Hatori…?" Ichigo gasped.
The legendary Tier-2 ninja was barely breathing. His arm—gone. Blood soaked his robes.
Ichigo's mother appeared from the shadows, eyes filled with sorrow. "He saved us. He bought us time."
Hatori's voice, faint but commanding, broke the silence.
"They're coming for you, Ichigo…"
Ichigo froze. "What?"
"The massacre. The rain. The looped time. It's all part of the Kurozan Prophecy—the one that speaks of the Ashborn Child, whose power will either end this cursed age… or restart it."
Ichigo's breath hitched.
"You're not just a boy," Hatori continued. "You're the trigger. And they know it."
Suddenly, a distant horn blew. The ground trembled.
A blood-red sigil burned in the sky.
"They've found us," his mother whispered, drawing a hidden blade.
Hatori smiled faintly. "Run, Ashborn. Run before you awaken again."
The red sigil in the sky pulsed like a heartbeat.
The air grew heavier, filled with the scent of burning ash and wet soil.
Ichigo stared at Hatori. "What do you mean Ashborn? Why me?"
But Hatori didn't answer. His eyes had already begun to close—whether from exhaustion or fate, Ichigo didn't know.
"We need to go!" his mother snapped. She pulled him down the tree with surprising strength. Her eyes—once gentle—were now sharp with the precision of a warrior.
Ichigo hesitated. He looked back at Hatori one last time.
The man who saved them… was gone.
Boom—
A thunderclap shook the ground. But it wasn't thunder.
It was footsteps.
Dozens of them. Marching through the woods, fast and in perfect sync. Trees rustled. Birds fled. Shadows began moving through the mist like living blades.
"Shadowhunters," his mother said through gritted teeth. "They don't bleed. They don't stop. And they smell power."
Ichigo's chest tightened. "They're after me… because of this power inside me?"
She nodded.
"They want to awaken it the wrong way. Corrupt it."
They ran.
Through the forest, leaping over fallen logs, dodging branches, sliding through mud. Behind them, growls echoed—metal against bark, low demonic whispers.
But something inside Ichigo stirred. With every step, the world slowed. His senses sharpened. He could feel the enemy closing in, the vibration in the ground, the shift in the wind—before it happened.
He skidded to a stop.
"Wait—left!"
Just as a blade swung down from the right, his mother ducked instinctively, eyes wide.
"You felt that…?" she asked, shocked.
Ichigo didn't answer.
He didn't know how he knew. He just… did.
And then he saw it.
A figure stepped out from the mist. Unlike the hunters, this one had a human form, wearing black robes and a silver mask shaped like a dragon's skull.
"Ichigo Ashborn," the voice hissed, distorted and deep.
"Welcome to your nightmare."
Ichigo froze.
Something about that voice felt familiar. Too familiar.
The masked man raised a hand. A dark spear formed from the mist and lightning.
Ichigo raised his hands to protect himself—but instead of fear, something inside him roared. A pulse of white-hot energy exploded from his chest, cracking the ground beneath him.
The masked enemy staggered.
Ichigo's eyes glowed with pale blue flames.
He wasn't just a boy anymore.
Something old—something angry—had woken up inside him.
Just when the air thickened with death and danger—
Bang!
A smoke bomb exploded at their feet, shrouding the world in thick grey mist. Ichigo coughed, vision blinded, heart racing.
"Stay low!" the royal postman barked, grabbing both Ichigo and his mother.
And then—darkness.
When Ichigo opened his eyes again, they were in the woods. Far from the battlefield, far from the blood. Only silence and raindrops remained.
"How…?" he whispered.
"I've served the Ashborn family for generations," the postman muttered, scanning the treeline. "And right now, the kingdom can't afford to lose either of you."
They hurried through the forest, every step echoing the weight of secrets unspoken.
Eventually, they returned to what was left of the village.
But it wasn't empty.
A group of royal guards in gleaming silver armor awaited them, standing in precise formation. The rain made their armor shimmer like ghostly statues.
One of them stepped forward, removing his helmet.
His eyes locked on Ichigo's mother—and widened with relief.
"Miss Ashborn," he said with a bow, "We feared the worst. To see you alive… it is a blessing."
Ichigo froze.
Miss Ashborn?
Not Mrs. Not villager. Not refugee.
His mother's past was a shadow he had never dared question—but now it stood before him, acknowledged by men of the crown.
Another soldier stepped up. "The war has begun. Master Hatori and others were dispatched by the king himself to shield the bloodlines. But… the enemy is stronger than we imagined."
Ichigo felt a knot in his chest. "What enemy? Who are they really?"
The guards exchanged uneasy glances.
One leaned in, lowering his voice. "They were once part of the Order… samurai who turned to the forbidden arts. They are no longer men. They're vessels of cursed power."
A tense pause.
"And they want you, Ashborn. The king has summoned you both—immediately."
Ichigo's fists clenched.
Everything—his home, his peace, his innocence—had burned away in a single night. And now, a kingdom wanted answers from a boy still trying to understand who he even was.
But deep inside, something whispered:
This is only the beginning.
Add to collection — your support is my sword.