Rain lashed the alley, stinging Kazuki’s face—then a scream cut through the storm.

Not again—faces of the ones he failed haunted him.

His boots splashed through puddles. Every step dragged.

A girl pressed against the wall. A man towered over her, knife in hand.

Her hands shook.

“Please… stop…” she whispered.

Kazuki froze. Fear screamed at him to turn back. Memories of failure slammed into his chest.

I can’t walk away.

He stepped forward.

“HEY! Leave her alone!”

The man turned, eyes wild. The knife flashed.

Pain tore through Kazuki’s stomach. He collapsed to his knees, blood mixing with rain. He still shielded the girl.

“It’s okay… run…” he gasped.

She bolted.

Kazuki managed a faint, bloody smile.

Maybe… I finally did something right.

Rain blurred into streaks of white. Streetlights smeared. Sound thinned.

Everything froze.

Rain hung in midair.

The alley vanished.

A white void pressed against him. No pain. No cold. Only silence.

…Where am I?

A warm, alien touch brushed him.

A newborn cry echoed somewhere ahead.

The air warped, a faint crackle splitting the suspended droplets. Heat pulsed from his tiny chest, bending space around him in a single, overwhelming shimmer—power undeniable, bending reality itself.

Light pulled him forward.

Kazuki vanished.

He woke screaming.

Warm hands lifted him. Cloth wrapped him tight.

His tiny body felt fragile.

“It’s a boy. He’s breathing,” someone said.

The woman holding him had dark hair and tired eyes. She hugged him close.

“Leonhart… my son,” she whispered.

The name pressed into him like a weight, a warning from the past he barely remembered.

His vision cleared. Several people in white robes watched, whispering.

“His aura is unstable.”

“No newborn should glow.”

“We must report this.”

Leonhart didn’t understand, but he felt their fear.

A faint shiver ran through the air around him, droplets quivering, marking his extraordinary presence in a way that burned itself into memory.

The elders froze.

A voice came, hollow and metallic, echoing like steel in a tomb:

“He… has returned. And the world will bend or break to stop him.”

The woman held him tighter.

“Hide your power… survive… just survive.”

Leonhart’s tiny body stiffened. He couldn’t move.

He didn’t understand the words.

But he felt danger. Immediate. Inescapable.

Someone already knew him.

And the world would devour any weakness—starting now.