"The world needed a hero... so it created a destroyer."
The sky burned that night. Not with stars, but with fire.
Flames did not simply spread. They consumed. They devoured everything Nemjiro had ever known as if it had never belonged to this world in the first place. His home collapsed into ash, wooden beams snapping, walls folding inward, memories turning to smoke before his eyes. The air thickened with heat and suffocation, filled with screams that refused to fade, no matter how far he ran.
"Run!"
That was the last word he heard.
Not love. Not comfort. Not even a goodbye.
Just desperation.
And so he ran.
Barefoot. Breathless. Broken.
The ground beneath him burned with every step, sharp and unforgiving, yet he did not stop. He could not stop. Behind him, voices cried out, reaching, calling his name, pulling at something deep inside him that wanted to turn back, that wanted to believe he could still save them.
Until suddenly...
There was nothing.
No voices.
No sound.
Only silence.
A silence so deep it felt unnatural. A silence that did not belong to the world he knew.
When he finally opened his eyes again, everything had changed.
There was no fire. No smoke. No ruin.
Just emptiness.
The world around him stretched into nothing, an endless void where even the concept of light felt distant. His breathing echoed against something unseen, slow, uneven, as if the air itself had weight. Each inhale felt colder than the last, pressing against his chest, forcing him to realise something was wrong.
And then he felt it.
A presence.
It did not move. It did not speak. It did not reveal itself.
But it was there.
Watching.
Waiting.
Time no longer existed in that place. Seconds felt like hours. Hours felt like years. Or perhaps years had already passed. It no longer mattered. Nothing did.
Because something inside him remained.
Not grief.
Not fear.
Something far deeper.
Something sharper.
Vengeance.
Vengeance is mine. I did not discover it. I did not chase it. I created it. I shaped it from what was left of me and allowed it to grow until it became the only thing that remained. I lived by it. I breathed through it. And when the end comes, I will die before I ever abandon it.
So stand tall. Do not look away. If you are going to witness what I have become, then you will do so without hesitation.
My dear avenger... the time has finally come.
I was not born into this world the way others were. I was left in it. An orphan, they would call me. A child without a past, without roots, without anything that tied him to something greater. But even that word feels too light for what I am. Orphan suggests something can still be rebuilt. Something can still be healed.
That is not what happened to me.
I do not remember the exact moment everything ended. Not the precise second where everything collapsed. Not the sound, not the movement, not even the breath I took before it all disappeared. That memory is gone, buried beneath something darker. That part of my life is blurred, as if the world itself decided it was not worth remembering
But I remember what came after.
I remember the silence.
A silence that suffocated. A silence so deep it felt like it had weight. A silence that pressed against my chest and refused to let go. The kind of silence that does not comfort you, but suffocates you slowly, until even your own thoughts begin to fade into it. The world continued moving, people continued living, but I remained trapped in that moment, unable to move forward, unable to return.
People say time heals.
They lie.
I have heard that lie more times than I can count.
Time does not heal. It erodes. It does not repair what is broken. It does not return what is lost. Time simply erases. It strips away what remains until you no longer recognise yourself, until you begin to believe you have moved on, when in reality you have only learned how to carry it better.
I never wanted to carry it.
It teaches you how to exist with pain, not how to escape it.
I never wanted to exist like that.
So I made a decision.
Not because I was strong. Not because I was brave. But because there was nothing left inside me that could choose anything else.
I will seek revenge.
Not for days. Not for years.
Not for a moment. Not for a phase. Not until I feel satisfied.
For as long as I exist.
Even if that means eternity.
I will find the one who did this. The one who turned my world into ash.
I will find the one who turned my world into nothing. The one who took everything from me as if it meant nothing at all. And when I do, I will make him understand. Not through words. Not through threats. But in something far more honest.
Through suffering.
Because I am still suffering.
Even now.
Even as you read this. Even as I speak these words, even as time continues to move forward, even as the world continues pretending everything is normal, there is something inside me that has not changed.
Until that day comes, I will remain ready.
Right now, I am nothing. Less than nothing. Something discarded. Something forgotten, something the world has no use for. Perhaps that is why that feeling never left me. That distant, unreachable sensation of something I can no longer grasp.
Happiness.
Calmness.
Peace.
They feel distant. Hollow. They feel like foreign concepts. Words without meaning. I hear them, I see them in others, but they do not belong to me. I cannot remember what they feel like. I cannot even say with certainty that I ever truly felt them at all.
As if they never truly belonged to me. Sometimes I wonder if they ever existed at all, or if they were simply illusions meant for those who were never meant to lose everything in a single moment.
When I see others smile, something inside me reacts. Just enough to remind me that there was once a version of myself that could do the same. Someone who cared. Someone who felt. Someone who lived without the weight I now carry.
Until I lost them.
My family.
They were not just important. They were not just loved. They were everything. Heavier than the universe itself.
And yet...
They disappeared as if they were nothing more than dust carried away by the wind.
Because of one man.
Or at least, that is what I believed.
Tell me something. Can you define the word revenge? Not the definition you read, not the version you imagine, but the real thing. Have you ever lived through it?
"Tell me..."
His voice echoed into the emptiness, unfamiliar, detached, as if it no longer belonged to him.
"What is revenge?"
Was it justice?
Was it punishment?
Or was it something far worse... something that replaces everything you once were?
If you have not, then you will never understand me.
You will never understand what it means to exist in a moment where your emotions are sealed away, where your soul feels like it has been taken from you, where the person you once were is no longer there. A moment where you are lost, completely and utterly lost, and yet somehow, something else finds you in that darkness.
What would you feel if there was no light? No sound. No thought. No escape. What if your entire world became nothing but darkness, endless and unmoving, stretching further than your mind could even comprehend?
And within that darkness, you hear them.
Voices.
Faint at first. Then clearer.
Your family.
Calling your name. Laughing. Speaking as if they were still alive, as if nothing had changed, as if you could just reach out and return to them.
Most people would break.
Most people would collapse under that weight, consumed by loneliness, swallowed by grief, unable to move forward.
I did not.
Not because I am strong. Not because I am different.
But because I no longer belong to the same world as you.
It is not that I have no feelings. It is not that I cannot feel pain.
It is because this world, this broken, silent, empty world, was made for me.
Only I can exist in it.
Only I can breathe in it.
Only I can carry what it holds.
And when the day finally comes, when I stand before the one who destroyed everything, I will not hesitate. There will be no doubt, no hesitation, no second thoughts.
An eye for an eye.
A soul for a soul.
I will turn this world into something it has never seen before. Not peace. Not justice. Not balance.
Something far worse.
Until that moment arrives, I will allow nothing to enter my world. No light. No sound. No memories that try to weaken what I have built.
Only one thing remains.
The blood I carry.
The hatred I preserved.
The pain I refused to let fade.
I have held onto it for years, letting it freeze, letting it sharpen, letting it become something far more dangerous than grief ever could be.
Because the possibilities are endless.
And I am coming.
Akaplini.
Fragments of that night burned within his mind.
A blade.
A shadow.
A man.
Morunar.
"I'll find you."
The words left him without hesitation, without doubt.
"I'll make you feel it."
His hands tightened, not out of fear, but certainty. Every scream. Every moment. Every loss that had carved itself into his existence.
"I'll make you feel everything."
That was the night Nemjiro died.
Not in body.
But in something far more important.
The part of him that once felt warmth... disappeared.
And in its place, something else began to take shape.
Far beyond that moment, beyond the reach of anything human, something ancient stirred. It had no voice, yet it called. No form, yet it existed. A forgotten power. A sealed will.
Sotenkigo.
In the darkness, a faint glow appeared.
Not warm.
Not comforting.
But alive.
"My name is Nemjiro."
This time, his voice did not break.
It carried weight.
Purpose.
"I will find you."
His eyes opened slowly, glowing with a cold, electric blue that did not belong to a child.
"And when I do..."
The silence itself seemed to tighten around him.
"This world will remember."
And this is my story.