The forest was dying.

Trees once proud and tall were scorched and broken, their trunks cracked like ribs jutting from the earth. Black smoke drifted through the underbrush as a red glow shimmered on the horizon—Drazan’s warfires, drawing closer.

Yuto crouched behind a crumbled stone pillar, panting. His heart slammed in his chest like a drum of war. His school uniform, torn and dirtied, was a poor match for this world of steel and flame.

Across from him, Princess Lyra peeked over a ridge, bow drawn.

“They found us.”

Yuto swallowed hard. “Who?”

“Scouts from the Drazan Vanguard. They always send monsters ahead of the main force. Fast. Cruel. You’re about to meet your first.”

She rose and loosed an arrow.

It whistled through the air—and then the trees erupted.

A creature leapt into the clearing: a twisted hybrid of wolf and armored insect, with bone plates for skin and six eyes that glowed violet. It let out a screech that shook the leaves from the trees.

Yuto froze.

**This wasn’t a game. This was real.**

The monster lunged.

“Move!” Lyra shouted, but Yuto couldn’t. His legs refused. The creature was almost on him—

—until something inside him snapped.

Time seemed to slow. The air thickened. His veins pulsed like drums of war, and from somewhere deep in his chest, *power* erupted.

Red light flared from his arm.

Crimson runes burned across his skin as if seared by fire. His hand lifted by instinct, and a glowing red sigil spun into existence, forming a floating circle of symbols and chains.

“*Blood Sigil—First Binding.*”

He didn’t know where the words came from. They just spilled from his mouth like breath.

Chains of red light burst from the circle, wrapping around the monster mid-leap and slamming it to the ground. It thrashed and screamed, but the chains held.

Then came the pain.

Yuto fell to his knees, gasping. His chest burned. The sigil drew power from *him*—from his pain, his memories, his hatred. Visions flashed behind his eyes:

> Renji’s smile.

> The poison.

> The betrayal.

His vision blurred. Blood dripped from his nose.

“Yuto!” Lyra ran to him. “You can’t hold it—stop the spell!”

He couldn’t speak. The power was overwhelming—raw and wild and hungry.

With a final shriek, the creature’s body ruptured. The chains sliced through bone and carapace, reducing it to ash.

Silence.

Then Yuto collapsed.

---

## **✧ ✧ ✧**

When he awoke, night had fallen. He was lying in a small tent lit by a flickering enchantment lamp. His arms were bandaged, and a sharp ache pulsed through his skull.

Lyra sat beside him, watching quietly.

“You burned through too much energy. That spell nearly killed you.”

Yuto sat up slowly. “I didn’t mean to cast it. It just… happened.”

“That’s Blood Sigil magic,” she said. “It reacts to pain, emotion, trauma. It’s powerful, but unstable. And dangerous.”

He looked down at his arm, where the runes had faded to scars.

“It felt like... I was being torn open.”

Lyra nodded. “You were. That magic draws power from your deepest wounds. It’s not just a weapon—it’s a curse.”

Yuto stared into the lamp flame.

“I don’t care.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I don’t care what it costs. I want to get stronger.” His eyes hardened. “Because one day, I’m going to find *him*. And when I do… I’ll make him pay 

The days blurred together as Yuto traveled with Princess Lyra. They moved through forests, across rivers, and over barren plains where the sky always seemed just a little too dark, as if the clouds were trying to hide the sun.

Each step was another reminder that he wasn’t in his world anymore.

Yet, despite the unfamiliar land, there was one thing that felt unnervingly familiar: the weight of betrayal, the sharp pain of having everything taken away in an instant. And each night, as Yuto stared at the stars of this foreign sky, the promise he’d made to himself grew stronger.

He would make Renji pay. No matter what it took.

They arrived at a stone tower hidden deep in the woods by dusk. The air here was thick with magic, a place where the fabric of reality itself seemed a little... thinner.

“I’ve brought him, Kael,” Lyra said as she pushed open the heavy iron door.

Inside, the tower’s air smelled of herbs, old books, and incense. Shelves lined with tomes stretched high into the darkness. In the center of the room sat a man, his back to them. His long, silver hair caught the faint light from the flames in the hearth.

The man turned with a deliberate slowness. His sharp, calculating eyes fell on Yuto.

“You must be the one,” he said. “The Crimson Hero.”

Yuto stood straighter, his fists clenched. “I didn’t ask for this.”

The man—Kael Vorn—smirked. “Few ever do.”

He gestured to the table beside him, where a collection of magical artifacts lay scattered.

“Then why am I here?” Yuto asked.

“Because you’re the only one who can stop what’s coming,” Kael replied. “And because I have a proposition for you.”

Yuto’s brow furrowed. “A proposition?”

“You seek power. You’ve tasted it already. The Blood Sigil magic, I presume?”

Yuto nodded, his thoughts darkening. “But it nearly killed me.”

“That’s the price of power,” Kael said, his voice like cold steel. “But it’s also the price of survival. You will learn to control it—or it will consume you.”

Yuto looked at the mage with skepticism. “And what’s in it for you?”

Kael’s eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. “Let’s just say I have my own... reasons for ensuring you become strong enough to defeat the Drazan Empire.”

“Why should I trust you?”

Kael’s smile widened. “You’ll need someone to guide you. And believe me, I know far more about this magic than you do.”

✧ ✧ ✧

The days that followed were filled with lessons in magic—if you could call them that. Kael didn’t teach through gentle words or explanations. He showed Yuto what it meant to wield power, often pushing him to the brink of his own limits.

Yuto spent hours, days even, standing in a dark chamber filled with magical sigils, channeling his rage into the Blood Sigil—until he could hardly stand.

Each time he called on the magic, he could feel it growing inside him—hungry and wild. And each time, he wondered if he could truly control it.

One day, after a particularly grueling session, Kael stood in the doorway of the chamber, watching him.

“You’re progressing faster than I expected,” Kael said. “But that’s not enough. You’ll need more than raw power to defeat the Drazan. You’ll need strategy, you’ll need allies. And you’ll need to understand this world—and the darkness that’s already spreading.”

Yuto was on his knees, sweat pouring down his face. “What’s coming? What is the Drazan Empire really after?”

Kael’s expression darkened. “Conquest. But there’s something else. The Drazan King isn’t just after land or riches. He’s after the very source of magic itself.”

Yuto stood slowly. “The source of magic?”

Kael’s eyes flashed. “Yes. There are places in this world where magic is born, where it flows like a river, like blood through veins. If Drazan controls that, he’ll become an unstoppable force.”

Yuto clenched his fists. “Then we stop him.”

Kael nodded. “But first, you’ll need to learn to control the Blood Sigil completely.”