Sir David The Killer Bee Beats

The Altars of Supremacy In the age before kingdoms, when the world was carved into city-states that clawed at one another for dominance, victory was measured not in gold or land, but in altars.   Each city built its altar from the bones of its enemies, from shattered shields and rusted swords, from the skulls of kings who had fallen in battle. The higher the altar rose, the stronger the city was said to be. Some reached so high they seemed to scrape the heavens, daring the gods themselves to look upon them.   But among these cities, one altar towered above all others—a jagged monument of iron and bone, crowned with the blackened horns of a dragon slain in ages past. It was said that whoever stood upon its peak could hear the whispers of the dead, urging them toward glory or ruin. --- The Secret Journey Arthur and Kai moved through the ruins of that city, cloaked in silence.   “You must not tell the king who we are going to see,” Kai whispered, his voice sha...

The storm raged across the midnight sky, lightning carving jagged scars above the ancient fortress. Jack Davis hurled himself against the wind, clutching the rif—the shimmering relic that could bend time itself.   “Jack, you should just get out of here,” Louie shouted, his voice echoing against the stone cliffs. “Take the rif back to your own time before Pegasus tightens his grip!”   Jack’s jaw tightened. “No. I know what we have to do. And I have full faith in you, Louie. That castle belongs to Pegasus, but it won’t yield to brute force. We’ll have to earn our way in.”   The fortress loomed ahead, its towers like spears piercing the heavens. Rumors whispered that Pegasus had stolen Excalibur itself, the blade of kings, and locked it deep within the castle vaults. Worse still, Jack’s grandfather was held prisoner inside, his fate tied to the stolen sword.   Louie’s eyes gleamed with determination. “Then we’ll gather the star chips. Enough to prove...

The dragon eggs lay before us, shimmering with a faint emerald glow, each one pulsing like a heartbeat. They were too heavy to carry, even for Kuruma’s strength. Their weight was not just physical—it was the burden of prophecy, the kind that binds worlds together.   We stood in the Lost Lands, a place beyond maps, beyond memory. The Forgotten Realms stretched endlessly, a wasteland of broken towers and rivers that whispered secrets. The air itself seemed chained, heavy with unseen shackles.   “You cannot move them,” said the Green Lady, her voice like leaves rustling in a storm. “But you can free yourselves.”   She handed me a scroll, its ink alive, shifting like serpents. The spell was written in a tongue older than Narnia itself. Release your chains. Break your spirit cuffs. The words burned into my mind, waiting for the moment when I would dare to speak them aloud.   Kuruma’s eyes narrowed. “She wants the prince. Yuskue. That’s her game. She’ll...

❄️ The Purple Dragon Saga: Chapter One “Put him down, Frieza!” Goku roared, his voice echoing across the desolate icy plains of Namek. But as the frost-laden winds howled, the figure before him was not Frieza.   It was Cooler—Frieza’s elder brother—yet twisted into something far more sinister. His form shimmered with jagged obsidian armor, his aura a storm of violet fire. His eyes glowed with a cruel intelligence, sharper than Frieza’s malice, and his laughter cut through the silence like shards of ice. “Is that the best you can do?” Cooler sneered, his tail lashing against the frozen ground. Blow for blow, he matched Goku’s every strike. Every Kamehameha was countered with a blast of shadowed ki, every punch met with an equal force that rattled the heavens.   The battlefield trembled, as if the planet itself feared the clash. --- 🌌 The Voice Beyond Then, from the distance, a voice echoed—ancient, resonant, and filled with cosmic weight:   “Open your mind,...

 The Rift of Sensui It was a long time ago—perhaps in a place you have seen only in dreams. A realm where the horizon bent like glass, and time itself was stitched together by fragile threads. In that realm, two entities that never should have met crossed paths within the space-time rift.   One was born of silence, a being of stillness that devoured sound. The other was born of motion, a storm that could never rest. They were opposites, destined to remain apart. Yet fate, careless and cruel, allowed them to collide.   The moment they touched, all collapsed. Mountains folded into rivers, rivers into dust, and dust into nothingness. The stars themselves flickered out, as though ashamed to witness such a union.   In all my reign, nothing seemed more natural than choosing Sensui. He was a child prodigy, able to sense apparitions from the moment he could walk. They were drawn to him like magnets, whispering secrets of realms unseen. He carried their voices ...

 It’s that dream again.   The radio tower looms against the horizon, skeletal steel fingers clawing at the sky. Its beacon pulses in silence, though no sound escapes. I feel like I am waiting for something — a signal, a summons, a verdict.   The fortune teller’s words echo in my skull:   "On the night of the red moon, the snake will slither and bare its fangs."   The Syndicate had laughed at her, dismissing omens as superstition. But the Syndicate doesn’t need corpses that can’t fight, soldiers who have lost their taste for battle. They need survivors. They need those who can endure the silence between heartbeats, who can stare into the abyss and not blink.   And now, the abyss stares back. --- 🩸 The Warning The red moon rises, swollen and heavy, bleeding across the clouds. Shadows stretch long and thin, twisting into serpentine shapes. The air tastes of iron and static. Somewhere beneath the tower, something stirs — scales scrapin...

 The Dark Gate The world was ash and ruin. Cities had crumbled into skeletal towers, forests burned into blackened husks, and the skies were forever bruised with storm clouds. In this wasteland walked Kael, a seventeen-year-old who carried nothing but a rusted blade and a prophecy whispered in his dreams: “Seek the Dark Gate, and destiny shall awaken.” ⚔️ The Journey - Kael wandered through shattered villages where goblins feasted on the bones of the fallen.   - He fought dragons whose wings blotted out the sun, their fire scorching the earth into glass.   - Demons stalked him in the shadows, whispering doubts, clawing at his resolve.   Each battle left scars across his body and soul, but each victory carved strength into his spirit. He was no chosen hero—just a boy who refused to bow to despair. 🌌 The Prophecy Legends spoke of the Dark Gate, hidden deep within the Kingdom of Shadows, a place where time itself bled into eternity. Beyond the gate lay t...

In ancient times, when the land lay smothered beneath endless forests, the spirits of the gods whispered through the roots and branches. These woods were not silent—they pulsed with the breath of colossal Beasts, guardians who owed their allegiance to the Great Spirit. For centuries they waited, restless, for the one destined to wield the X-Blade, the weapon forged from starlight and shadow. The call came at last.   “Come with us,” the Beasts thundered, their voices shaking the canopy. “The king lies in peril. His fate entwines with yours. The child’s strength is not his own—beware, for it is borrowed from forces unseen.” But treachery lurked in the wild.   The Lion, once noble, now a traitor, prowled in silence. His mane burned like dusk, his eyes gleamed with cunning. He led the innocent straight into a trap woven from despair and deceit. The forest itself seemed to bend to his will, branches curling into snares, shadows twisting into chains. And then—   ...

The Child of Two Worlds The voice came first, low and resonant, echoing through the cavern of shadows.   "Can you sense my presence, human child? It seems you have strongly inherited the powers of the underworld… yet you cannot wield them to see ahead into your destiny."   The child trembled, not from fear, but from recognition. The words were not foreign—they were etched into their blood, whispered in dreams since birth.   "But I can see your destiny quite well," the voice continued, its timbre like stone grinding against stone. "Know this: those who defeat the gods will not remain ordinary anymore. You will not scan this data, for destiny is not written in numbers. We are warriors sworn to stand against the darkness." --- ⚔️ The Battle at the Edge of Night Beyond the cavern, Fantasia’s warriors clashed against the tide of shadows. Their blades gleamed, their chants rose, but the darkness pressed harder with every heartbeat. They were holding their own—fo...

🌍 Dreamwater: The Kingdom of Vanishing Light The world was supposed to be home—planet Earth, familiar and fragile. But something was wrong. I wasn’t sure if I was still there. The skies had shifted, the oceans whispered in languages no one remembered, and the climate itself had rebelled. Places that once burned in summer now froze solid, their rivers locked in ice. The balance of the seasons had shattered, and with it, the veil between dreams and waking. That was when it happened.   Me, and five other kids—chosen not by destiny, but by the chaos itself—were pulled into something greater. The sigil stitched into my jacket, a symbol I thought was just decoration, revealed its truth: Dreamwater. A guardian born to protect my friends from nightmares that had begun to seep into reality.   But power is never simple. To wield Dreamwater meant to drown in it. So I locked it away, sealed deep within myself, believing that silence was safer than strength. Yet the darkness nev...

Story: The Rose Morning Star I had spent my whole life fighting.   Every scar on my body was a tally of rage, every battle a reminder of how much I had given. Against Lucemon, the fallen angel of light, and the White Witch whose whispers poisoned kingdoms, I poured everything I had. Yet in the end, I realized—they never wanted me to win. They wanted someone else to take them down. I was a pawn in their theater of ruin. Still, I pressed forward. Through the Dark Gate, I entered the Dark Kingdom, where shadows breathed and walls bled memories. Each step toward the Rose Morning Star was a trial. I fought beasts born of despair, soldiers forged from forgotten regrets, and illusions that wore the faces of those I loved. My memories became weapons against me—bittersweet echoes, painful shards. Some battles I won, others I barely survived. But the question haunted me: What was my reason? The answer came not in silence, but in the voice of my own conviction: > "Evil can confuse you...

The Reign of Sensui In all my reign, nothing seemed more natural than choosing Sensui.   He was no ordinary child—his eyes carried the weight of unseen worlds, and from the earliest days he could sense apparitions drifting between the folds of reality. Where others trembled at the whisper of spirits, Sensui stood unshaken, listening as though they spoke a language only he could understand.   But sensing was not his only gift. He bore something more—an inheritance of destruction. Apparitions that clawed at the living, that fed on fear and despair, dissolved beneath his touch. His hands, delicate yet resolute, became the bane of phantoms. It was as if the very fabric of his soul rejected corruption, burning it away with a purity that no mortal should wield.   When the wars came, and the fortress walls echoed with the cries of the fallen, Sensui donned the armor of the ancients. Its magic was not merely steel and enchantment—it was memory, legacy, and sacrific...

🌑 The Fourth King of Fire “Who says there’s no such thing as monsters?”   Twelve years ago, the world learned otherwise.   From the depths of the forgotten forests, a Nine-Tailed Fox emerged, its fur shimmering like molten silver, its eyes burning with the hunger of eternity. Each lash of its tails shattered mountains, sending avalanches into valleys where kingdoms once thrived. Oceans rose in rebellion, tidal waves devouring coasts as if the sea itself had sworn allegiance to the beast.   Above it all, the moon watched silently, a pale witness to a diseased world. Plagues spread in the wake of destruction, not of sickness alone but of despair. Entire kingdoms fell, their people mindlessly consumed by fear, rage, and ruin.   Even the Colossus of the East, a man whose power was said to rival the gods, could not halt the inevitable. His blade broke against the Fox’s laughter. His strength dissolved into dust.   So the world learned patien...

The night you were born, the heavens trembled. An unusual star—one that had never been charted—burned above the village, its light bending shadows into strange shapes. The elders whispered that such a birth was dangerous, that a spirit born under that star would not belong to the ordinary flow of fate.   Your spirit power was unlike the others. Where most could summon flame or wind, yours was silence itself—an aura that stilled the air, froze the movement of beasts, and made even the bravest hesitate. It was not a gift meant for comfort, but for confrontation.   --- 🌒 The Encounter “Young man,” the voice came again, low and sharp, echoing in the corridors of your mind.   “It’s you again. What do you want from me?”   You turned, and there he was—Yue. Or at least, the figure who bore that name. His eyes glowed like a cat’s, unblinking, watching from the distance. He never moved, never spoke beyond those fragments. Friend or foe, you could not tell....

During the whole of that dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of that year, the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens. The air itself seemed to sink, heavy with an iciness that clung to the skin, a disappearing sickening of the heart.   Yet in that gloom, a voice rose:   “You’re wrong, you know. The soul of a warrior never changes, even if the times do.”   The boy turned, startled. The figure before him was cloaked in shadow, yet his eyes glimmered with something unbroken. He seemed ancient, burdened by centuries, yet his gaze carried the innocence of a child.   The warrior’s soul was not bound by eras or prisons of stars. Though the world shifted—though dream boxes stole visions, though black holes threatened to swallow planets—the essence of the warrior remained untouched. It was not steel or prophecy that defined him, but the heart of a child: curious, unyielding, and pure.   The boy felt the weight in his chest ease. The...

It changed everything.   The revelation came not from prophecy, nor from the whispers of sages, but from a single folded page in the Codex of Warriors. Hidden beneath the crease was a truth too vast to ignore: each legendary warrior bore not one spirit, but two.   One spirit was radiant, forged from hope and memory. The other was shadow-born, a mirror of doubt and hunger. Together they formed a balance—but if one was misled, the warrior’s destiny could fracture. “You led them astray,” the boy whispered, clutching the page with trembling hands. His voice echoed in the chamber of stars, a prison masquerading as a sanctuary. The walls shimmered with constellations, but he knew they were bars.   And then came the Dream Box.   A construct of impossible geometry, it pulsed with stolen dream energy. Children across the world slept, unaware that their visions were siphoned into a black hole that grew larger with every heartbeat. Soon, it would devour the ...

Dream System Crash The chamber lights flickered, then died.   “I don’t know what happened,” whispered the engineer, staring at the console. “The entire system crashed.” But the Electric Processing Unit—the EPU—did not simply fail. It shifted. Its circuits hummed with something stranger than electricity: sleeping particles, drifting like motes of dust in a dream. When the EPU pulsed, those particles ignited into visions so vivid they felt more real than waking life. The operator blinked. Has he ever used this power before? No one knew. The EPU was designed to calculate, not to dream. Yet tonight, it was weaving worlds. --- 🌌 The Dream Unfolds A castle tower rose from the haze.   A monster, scales glistening like oil in moonlight, clutched the princess in its claws. Her cry echoed through the dreamscape.   The operator stepped forward, his body half‑formed from static. He could feel the dream bending around him, the EPU’s power stitching him into the narrati...

The voice echoed through the hollow corridors of the dream castle:   "Now become my servant, and I will grant you a wish."   But the wish was not for riches, nor for power. It was simple, fragile, and desperate:   "Release me… that’s all I want from you." Time had passed swiftly, like sand slipping through unseen fingers. The promise lingered, unfulfilled, and whispers spread through the dreamscape: they say I wait in vain. Yet the castle still stood, its towers piercing the veil of the night sky, its gates opening only to those who dared to step into the abyss of slumber. Inuyasha wandered its halls, his claws scraping against stone that pulsed like a living heart. He had fought countless nightmares—phantoms of rage, shadows of sorrow, illusions of betrayal—but none could free him. For he had fallen into the Chasm of Dreams, a place where waking was forbidden, where every battle only deepened the spiral. "Be brave, Inuyasha," the voice whispered again, so...

The Digital Sovereign They say the Digital Sovereign is right above us, a kingdom suspended in the unseen layers of reality. Maybe that’s where we’re going, maybe that’s where all paths converge.   Back then, Takuya was the fiercest fighter we had. If he had wagered coin on every battle, we’d all be kings today, basking in endless wealth. But Takuya never fought for riches—he fought for destiny. And destiny called him away.   The day he returned from exile, he whispered:   "You know how long I’ve been waiting… and it’s finally time."   Then he vanished, ascending to the Digital Sovereign, leaving us with silence and questions.   --- Prison of the Kingdom Where am I?   You took me prisoner in my own kingdom. The walls echo with betrayal, and the air tastes of rust and sorrow. People have been disappearing—always at the time of the offering for the Mystic Dragon.   The dragon demands tribute, but the offerings have beco...

In all my reign, nothing seemed more natural than choosing Sensui.   He was a child prodigy, born with eyes that pierced the veil between worlds. He could sense apparitions before they even crossed the threshold of reality, and with a single strike, he could destroy them. His universe was simple, absolute: black and white. Apparitions were evil, and evil had to be erased.   For years, this certainty made him unstoppable. He was the blade of destiny, the guardian of the spirit world, the one who carried our hopes. But certainty is fragile. One day, Sensui saw gray.   It was not a monster, nor a saint—it was something in between. An apparition that did not kill, did not corrupt, but simply existed. That moment shattered him. His universe cracked, and through the fissures poured doubt, sorrow, and the unbearable weight of choice.   We did not win after that. How could we, when our champion no longer believed in the war?   Legends say that w...

The temple-like structure loomed behind us, its obsidian pillars whispering with echoes of forgotten prayers.   “Welcome to the Dark Gate,” I murmured, my voice trembling as the air itself seemed to shiver. Beyond it stretched the Continent of Darkness, a land whose dangers were as legendary as its mysteries. No map dared chart its shifting terrain, and no hero had ever returned unchanged. ✧ The Magic Mirror Gate Next stood the Magic Mirror Gate, a silver arch shimmering like liquid moonlight. Here, Takuya would face his true self.   Most believed monsters were the hardest foes to conquer, but the mirror revealed something far more terrifying: the reflection of one’s own soul. Many who gazed into it fled screaming, unable to bear the weight of their hidden truths. Takuya’s steps faltered, yet he pressed forward, knowing that denial would only chain him to despair. 🌌 The Nightmare I have the same nightmare every single night.   Mr. Genjai is gone. ...

Prologue: The Glitch in the Arcade It was 1997. Five teenage boys—Kai, Ryo, Daisuke, Haru, and Shin—were hanging out in a neon-lit arcade, their sneakers squeaking against the sticky floor, the hum of CRT monitors filling the air. When the newest game, Kingdom.exe, flickered to life, its pixelated wizard beckoned them closer. Suddenly, the screen warped, static hissed, and the boys were pulled into the digital abyss—like a corrupted VHS tape swallowing its viewers whole.   --- 🌵 Act I: The Desert of Broken Codes They landed in a vast desert where the sand shimmered like golden data fragments. Towering monsters made of corrupted polygons rose from the dunes, their roars echoing like distorted cassette rewinds. Armed with glitch-forged swords and neon shields, the boys fought side by side, their friendship syncing like co-op gameplay.   Kai, the leader, shouted: “We fight as one—like the code itself!”   The desert trial taught them unity, each victory rewind...

The cavern trembled as a voice seeped through the shadows, ancient and heavy, like the weight of forgotten stars.   "Can you sense my presence, human child? It would seem you have strongly inherited the powers of the Mazoku. Yet you are still inexperienced. You cannot see ahead into your destiny… but I can. And I know this: those who defeat the gods will never remain ordinary anymore." The child’s eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the abyss. His hand tightened around the hilt of a sword that pulsed with a strange azure flame.   "I won’t remain ordinary. Fine. I never planned on being ordinary anyway." His voice cracked with defiance, but beneath it was a trembling resolve.   The flame surged, licking the cavern walls, painting them in burning blue.   "Can you see it? The future is burning blue. This sword of mine burns with an awesome power, beckoning me to take you down."   The Mazoku’s laughter echoed like thunder rolling across a dead s...

 The world was embroiled in battle—an endless era of warring kingdoms where steel clashed like thunder and banners burned against the storm-dark sky. The rivers ran red, and the cries of the fallen echoed across valleys that would never know peace again.   Bastion, once a trusted blade at Atreyu’s side, sank beneath the swirling waters of the Blackmere. His lungs filled with the cold abyss, and in that silence he knew: betrayal had carved his fate. The punishment for turning against Atreyu was not merely death—it was erasure, a drowning in the memory of the world itself.   Above, the battle raged with earth-shattering fury. Towers crumbled, mountains split, and the very soil seemed to recoil from the violence. The scars of war were not only etched into stone but into the hearts of all who survived.   Atreyu, the warrior-king who had once carried the hopes of the fractured kingdoms, had lost. His armies lay broken, his banners torn, his prophecy undone....

Act I – The Trap The storm raged across the forest stage, lightning carving jagged scars into the sky.   "Don’t you guys even realize? We’ve all been lured right into Oz’s devious little trap…"   The words echoed, heavy with dread. Their hands trembled as invisible strings pulled them like marionettes. Cherubimon’s angelic silhouette hovered above, halo cracked, smile too kind to be trusted.   "We became their puppets," whispered one, eyes wide.   But another voice rose, defiant:   "It’s not too late. The first act has just begun. Put that weapon down—we’re on the same side. Isn’t that obvious?"   The strings quivered. For a heartbeat, freedom seemed possible. --- Act II – The Invitation A door appeared in the forest, glowing faintly, impossibly out of place.   "Please… come in. I have something to show you."   Inside, the walls shimmered with illusions. Sleeping Beauty’s castle rose in dreamlike splendor, i...

"Even as times change, the soul of a warrior remains the same."   Those words, spoken long ago by my rival and friend, echoed like a drumbeat in the caverns beneath Duelist Kingdom.   The underworld was no place for mortals. Shadows of forgotten duelists lingered here, their cards scattered like bones, their spirits trapped in endless games. I walked among them, carrying the weight of betrayal. My master had cast me aside, sealing me within the cursed staff of Kakarot. For years, I was nothing but a whisper in the void, a fragment of power waiting to awaken.   But now… now the fire burned again.   Kakarot had shown me the impossible—that a mortal could ascend, that rage and resolve could ignite into something divine. The path of the Super Saiyan was no longer a myth. It was destiny.   As I climbed the obsidian steps, Joey Wheeler stumbled behind me, sneakers squeaking against the stone. His bravado was cracking, his laughter fading into ...

The fortress stretched endlessly into the void, its walls shimmering with broken code and fractured light. I had searched every corridor, every chamber, every illusionary hall. But the truth was undeniable: the Lightning Emperor was gone. His throne sat empty, humming faintly with residual sparks, as if mocking the absence of its master.   The whispers said a stranger had orchestrated this collapse. A shadow who moved between realms, unseen yet always present. He had planned this digital war long before we realized the battlefield wasn’t stone or steel, but memory and data.   Makubex’s necklace glowed faintly, its wings etched in silver. They matched perfectly with the carvings on Pongo’s staff—a symbol too precise to be coincidence. It was a cipher, a prophecy, a warning.   Outside, the city was desolate. Snow fell in slow spirals, muffling the silence of abandoned streets. Neon signs flickered, half‑alive, casting ghostly reflections on frozen puddles. No...

The Demon World Saga: Twist Mountain The jagged caverns of Twist Mountain swallowed every sound, their walls pulsing faintly with demonic energy. Shadows slithered across the stone, whispering secrets of battles long past. The heroes pressed forward, their breath crystallizing in the frigid air, knowing the City of Ice lay beyond—but the path was treacherous. Suddenly, a voice echoed in the dark: > “How did you know where I was anyway? What do you want from me? I left the Volts a long time ago…” The speaker’s cloak fluttered like torn wings, his eyes glowing with a faint crimson aura. He was once a commander of the Volts, an organization that bound duelists, shinobi, and trainers under one ruthless banner. Betrayal had marked him, and the curse of the Volts followed like a phantom. Another figure stepped from the shadows, his chakra flaring like blue fire, cards orbiting him like talismans. His words cut like kunai: > “I told you—you would die if you betray the organization. Ther...

In those days, we believed in only one truth:   Humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return.   To obtain, something of equal value must be lost. That was the law of alchemy, the law of equivalent exchange. We thought it governed the world itself, binding every soul to its merciless balance. But truth has a way of twisting when shadows gather. --- The Confrontation The room was silent except for the trembling breath of the boy before me. His fists clenched, his shoulders shook, and his eyes darted like prey cornered by a predator.   “Why don’t you get to the point?” I said, my voice cutting through the silence like steel. “You’re afraid of me. There’s no one here to impress, and I can see your whole body shaking.”   Fear. It was written across him like a curse.   “The ability to fear your enemies is one of your strengths,” I continued, stepping closer, the floorboards groaning under my weight. “But you haven’t ...

🌑 The Dragon Who Was Cast Away The storm had not yet broken, but the air was heavy with betrayal.   I lay wounded, my friends circling the battlefield like vultures, their eyes fixed not on me but on the dark figure before them—the warrior who once belonged to another kingdom, another master.   They abandoned me while I was down, hogging the bad guy all to themselves, as if victory could erase the fracture between us. But I knew the truth of him. He was not born of Sensui’s shadow; he was forged in a kingdom that feared him. His people whispered of his strength, of the way his blade sang louder than their prayers. And so, as kingdoms often do when faced with greatness they cannot control, they sent him away.   Isn’t that always the way with great warriors? Revered until they terrify, exalted until they threaten, and then exiled to wander until someone darker claims them.   But why should we trust anything you have to say, after all that has trans...

Over the jagged peaks of Mount Shumisen, beyond the veil of mist and shadow, lay the All-Earth Forest—a realm said to be the cradle of every living soul. Many moons ago, catastrophe struck. A violent electrical storm tore through the skies, splitting the heavens with bolts of white fire. The storm was no accident; it was the outward manifestation of chaos itself, a mirror of the firestorm burning within my heart.   The kingdom trembled. Trees fell like broken spears, rivers boiled, and the very soil screamed as lightning carved scars into the land. Amid this chaos, the wizard Hiriko emerged from the abyss. Cloaked in obsidian robes, his eyes glowed with stolen power. He kidnapped warriors one by one, dragging them into the labyrinthine caves of Mount Shumisen. There, he drained their strength, siphoning their essence into crystal orbs that pulsed with stolen life.   I watched, powerless at first, as comrades vanished into the mountain’s maw. But the storm called to m...

The night I was born, the heavens trembled.   An unusual star—one that had never been charted by sages nor sung of by prophets—burned above the horizon. Its light was not silver, nor gold, but a shifting hue that seemed to whisper secrets into the bones of those who gazed upon it. From that star, my spirit power was woven: different, fractured, yet whole in ways no other soul could understand. I grew up knowing I was not like the others. Where they saw shadows, I saw echoes. Where they heard silence, I heard the murmurs of forgotten spirits. And when the time came, the elders of the Spirit World summoned me.   “You have proven yourself,” they said, their voices like wind through hollow trees. “You are the one we have been waiting for. You have all that is required to be the detective of the Spirit World.” Detective.   The word felt strange, heavy, yet right. My mission was clear: find the last unicorn. --- 🌩 The Thunder Cloud at the Port The unicorn was no...