Chapter One – Echo of Nature

  In the earliest ages, when nature still followed its pure, untouched course, and when the number of living beings was few, a tree unlike any the world had ever known began to grow.

  It was a colossal tree—its roots burrowed deep into the earth, while its branches stretched toward the sky as if trying to touch it. It was not merely a plant. A gentle, warm aura surrounded it, spreading calm and reassurance to all who came near. Even animals gathered around it without fear.

  In that era lived a young human who stood out among his generation. He was neither a king nor a leader, yet he was gifted—calm in nature, wise beyond his years. After his father died in a tragic hunting accident, he lived with his uncle and worked alongside him gathering firewood.

  Yet his heart was never tied to the work…

  nor to the wood itself.

  It was tied to that tree.

  Every day, he would go to it—sitting by its trunk, placing his hand upon its bark, feeling that strange aura he could not explain. He heard no voice and witnessed no miracle, yet he felt… as though the tree understood him.

  Until the day everything changed.

  The tribe’s chief ordered the tree to be cut down, claiming it would be used to build a temple where children would be raised.

  The young man protested. He begged. He tried to stop them.

  But his voice was weaker than the men’s axes.

  The following morning, he returned to the tree for the last time.

  He sat beside it for a long while, reliving his memories, and for the first time felt a strange weight pressing against his chest.

  Then—suddenly—the tree reacted.

  The air trembled. The ground shook.

  The forces of nature surged forth around it.

  Water. Wind. Earth. Fire. Lightning.

  They moved as if alive—then entered the young man’s body all at once.

  He did not die.

  But he was no longer the same.

  Fearing him, the tribe cast him out. He lived the rest of his life alone, hunted, until he approached the edge of death.

  Before drawing his final breath, he divided those elements into weapons and hid them across distant lands… then he died.

  Centuries passed.

  The world entered an age of war.

  Tribes and nations fought for survival. Swords and spears filled the battlefields, and clans possessing strange powers began to impose their dominance.

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  Among them was the Izoka Clan.

  A warrior clan renowned for its unique visual abilities. No two eyes were alike—each differed in shape, color, and power. Through some of these eyes, Izoka gained control over the creatures of the Yamikaji Clan—a mysterious clan skilled in sealing arts, summoning magical beasts, and merging their cells.

  Opposing them was another fearsome clan: the Tastoma Clan, whose members were born with nature-infused cells, granting them immense physical strength, unnatural speed, and heightened sensory perception.

  Amid this turbulent world, a new tribe emerged—one that called for peace.

  Formed from members of different clans, they named themselves the Second Serois, in an attempt to reshape the world.

  But peace requires power.

  Thus, a tournament was organized to select an elite force of warriors.

  Among fifty participants stood a poor young man with inferior equipment.

  His name was Enzo.

  He lacked the advanced gear of the others, but possessed something most of them did not:

  Determination.

  Two days before the tournament, Enzo went alone into the forest at night.

  In nature, he found a peace he could never find among people.

  He set up camp near the mountain’s peak.

  And while the night rested at its deepest silence… the disaster occurred.

  He saw a body lying near a tree.

  He approached slowly, his heart pounding violently.

  “Marai…?”

  Marai was his closest friend.

  Marai opened his eyes with great difficulty and gave a faint smile.

  “Enzo…”

  Enzo moved closer, tears beginning to fall without him realizing it.

  “What happened to you?”

  Marai’s lips trembled. He whispered:

  “Take care… of my mother…”

  Then his hand went limp.

  Silence fell.

  Suddenly—

  Footsteps echoed between the trees.

  Enzo lifted his head to see a figure standing in the shadows, wearing a long coat and holding a sword that glowed with a dark red light—

  a color that resembled neither fire nor blood.

  The man’s face was hidden.

  He turned… and disappeared.

  Enzo screamed at the top of his lungs, crying:

  “Wait! You bastard! You scum!”

  But no one answered.

  That night…

  The tournament did not begin.