Chapter 1: The Beginning

A heavy thunderstorm. The tempered and hardened glass in the windows broke with a piercing shrill. A young woman, dressed in a collared one-piece knee-length dress, black tights and boots. In her arms is an infant. In her dominant hand she grips tightly a slender kodachi (Japanese twin swords). The infant is wrapped tightly in blankets, hugged against the woman's chest. The woman glares venomously at the enemy before her. Her dried tears are evidence of her trepidation.

A man with a dignified appearance. He has an equally piercing glare. Herman is dressed in a refined black suit. His shirt and slacks has been carefully ironed down to its edges. He has a young appearance, of a man in his early twenties. Anyone can tell he is the young master of the grand mansion. Although their surroundings are thrashed and barren, the neighbourhood once saw it as a grand mansion.

Electrical power goes out and and the pounding of the rain echoes loudly against the windowsills and roof. Herman has combat gloves on his hands. Their battle has turned into a stalemate. Neither of them are about to concede.

"Why don't you reconsider?" he spoke.

"No. He shall be the one to decide his own path. You don't see it, do you! Aren't you becoming just like your father?!"

The man pointed at the broken altar. The crystal still stands among the cracked glass and marble. The crystal ball is illuminated brightly. "Look, Elena. He bears the cursed blood of this clan. He is destined to return. The ancient crystal recognizes him as the chief who will reign our clan!"

"You can't bind him with 'chains' in the name of your blood and clan. I swear that he must choose his own life. After all, he's OUR child! You can make it happen!" the woman pleaded.

"Nina."

The young master's familiar appears on his shoulder. His familiar takes the form of a snake. The snake hisses and transforms. In his hands is the legendary sword he used that took down thousands of men alone: Murasame.

"I will not fight you." The woman's gaze is sharp but calm. It seems as if she has predicted the outcome of this battle.

Have faith in our child. He will become the key and purge the darkness of Steinhart's curse.

The woman and child vanishes before the young master's eyes. Nothing is left but droplets of blood from her wounds remains on the floor. Herman clicks his tongue. "She used her powers. Damn it!" The sword in his hands vanishes into thin air. His knees buckles and gives way. The strength and tension accumulated that led to their stalemate is suddenly released, the fatigue from their battle overwhelms his body.

"Elena...." he whispers.

He turns to his men and subordinates observing the scene in the darkness. "Find them!"

20 years later

Schewerin, the homeland of diverse culture and history. Known for its neo-renaissance palace with ornate rooms and elaborate designs, the monarch who resides in Schewerin Castle, the pride and joy of Schewerin City, was a man of peace. The people are contented and happy, as can be seen at the busy street markets.

A young man, possibly a traveller, brightens at the beautiful sight of the peaceful town. He seemed to have come a long way. The young man's black leather coat and black boots contrasting with the Schewerin people's colourful garb made him stand out as someone from out of town. A long pale cerulean muffler was wrapped warmly around his neck. He held a brown briefcase in his hands.

"So this is Schewerin?"

Strolling around the city, citizens of Schewarin stole glances at the young man's peculiar appearance. He had a soft tuft of raven black hair and golden irises. Ignoring the odd glances, he trudged through the crowd.

Unpleasant shouting caught his attention. Pushing his way towards a group of men gathered a meter from where he was standing, he saw two boys trembling at the mercy of a burly man. The boys were injured and screaming in pain as the big man whipped them with a something that looked like a long belt. The young man gritted his teeth. One word came to his mind.

Rakshas. The feared gangsters that lorded over ordinary people. Organised crime coupled with dark magic that promised horrendous fate to those who dared challenge them. The threat guns and swords one could oppose; but the threat of the power of the darkness was enough to make a grown man tremble. Law enforcers, where were they in this beautiful city? Underneath the layer of peacefulness and calm, the rakshas' reign of terror prevailed. They were extremely formidable.

A look at the attackers revealed that they were underlings of the rakshas. After all, they bore the tattoo of the clan on their bodies. The burly older man had a knife in his hands.

"Die!" he screamed.

Praying for mercy, the boys closed their eyes in fright. They braced themselves for the final blow. When nothing happened, they opened their eyes slightly. The young man in the odd clothing was standing in front of them. They recognized him. He was the one who possessed a pure, piercing gaze. He stood apart from people in the city who were shrouded in dark aura despite their colourful dresses. It was something that didn't belong in this city. The tone of his voice was delicate and tender as he spoke.

"Are you okay?" he asked. The underlings of the rakshas had collapsed at his feet like lumps of meat. "What's your name?"

The boys could only stare speechlessly at the defeated minions of the darkness on the cemented ground. He is God. Their saviour. And the Hero. Seeing the young man unscathed after defeating three aggressive men, they believed God had blessed them with a second chance. The young man frowned. The rakshas will not stop. They were searching for something. Who was their leader? The all-powerful one. No one had ever seen him.

The young man's intuition started to tingle.

"We're battle slaves." The boys spoke. Their young hero had a solemn expression on his face. How much suffering had these two endured at such a young age. He silently nodded, urging the twins to go on.

"Both Arthur and I. We're twins."

"Why did you help us?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." The young man replied. "Isn't it? Tell me. What happened to Schewerin? A peaceful city like this, overrun by rakshas. It's unbelievable."

The twins sighed. "It's been like this since a decade ago. Since His Highness fell ill. The one who's in power... the advisor, is the raksha's puppet."

"Sir, you're incredible. You defeated them!"

The townsfolk welcomed the young man into their circle. They were extremely joyful that hope had finally arrived. They told stories of their lives. The changes, rumours and recent occurrences that targeted innocent lives of the Schewerin people. Many families were robbed, humiliated, and killed; the surviving children were left with no choice but to serve the rakshas as their weapon: the raksha's battle slaves. It was kill or be killed.

Peace was a fleeting dream. The young man was overwhelmed by the reality. So many things had occurred in the last ten years when he was here. The span of a decade was too long a time for the people in the city to remember him. He wondered if there were other cities that had also fallen under the darkness reign.

He gritted his teeth. It was time to visit some old friends. After bidding farewell to the friendly citizens and the twins, the young man continued on his journey. He boarded the train to the south. It was an hour's journey from the central region.

In South Schewerin stood the Police Headquarters Department. The young man sighed, as he stepped in front of its grand entrance.

"Never knew the day would come that I would return. Criminal Affairs Police Bureau, Schewerin."