The country of Roven was not a place for the faint-hearted. 

Across the world of Eremia, nations whispered distrust of one another. Alliances were forged more out of necessity. 

In the midst of it all, a small fraction of the world’s population carried a gift—or perhaps, a curse—that could tilt the scales of power in an instant: 

Resonance.

Less than one percent of the people could awaken such power. 

These individuals, called Espers, could manipulate forces both tangible and ethereal. Some controlled fire, summoned shadows, or twisted the elements of existence into shapes that defied logic. 

Scholars, philosophers, and scientists had studied them for decades, but no formula existed. There was no pattern that predicted who would awaken their Resonance. 

It was an anomaly written into the very fabric of humanity.

In the state of Kael, within Roven, the Central Esper Academy stood as a beacon of order. 

Its walls bore the marks of age and pride. Their centuries of graduates, many now serving in Roven’s military or peacekeeping organizations, had walked the halls. 

The Academy’s purpose was clear: to nurture the unpredictable, teach control, and instill the responsibility necessary to wield power that could save cities… or unmake them.

Yet, not all who possessed Resonance walked the path of honor. 

In the shadows, an organization known only as Oboros thrived. 

It sought out Espers with potential too exceptional to ignore, gathering them for purposes hidden even from its own recruits. Others who crossed its path rarely lived to tell the tale.

In a remote city, a boy in silver had known tragedy long before he could understand power. 

At six years old, war had come to his doorstep. 

His parents had been bright, ordinary people with dreams too large for a world that had little room for them. In one night, they had lost their lives in the chaos. 

The boy had been left alone, trembling in the ash of his home. His cries had gone unheard amid the noise of battle.

And yet, even in that brokenness, something extraordinary had stirred within him. 

Time itself bent to his will in fragmented, fleeting moments. 

Oboros had come for him then as opportunists drawn to his raw, untamed talent. The agents had seen the tremor of seconds around the boy’s hands, and their fascination had been immediate.

The Grandmaster stepped forward.

“Come, child.”

The boy hesitated for a moment, and then he extended his small hand.

Now, he moved through halls where power was currency. He had learned that the world did not reward innocence but those who could bend the rules of existence itself.

And so, the child who could touch time began to walk the edge of darkness. He did not know whether he was shaping the future… 

Or simply becoming a weapon forged by it.

A year later, in a laboratory…

The tube hissed, and tiny sparks scattered against the walls. Needles pierced thin flesh, injecting chemicals meant to push his Resonance to the limit. 

A child of five, impossibly fragile and almost weightless, lay at the center on a table. 

His skin was pale, his hair a soft shade of blue. His eyes were basically two frozen wells, staring without thought. There was almost no fear or emotion in them.

The scientists worked fast, commands shouted left and right. Each experiment was designed to break and pry open something that was never meant to be violated. 

But the boy did not cry. He did not flinch or even blink. 

He was a vessel of patience, of emptiness, and beneath that calm, a storm slept.

Then… one trial went too far. 

The stress pushed him to the edge, and everything the boy had held in check snapped. 

The consequence was immediate. 

Heat fled, thermal energy unraveled. The screams of the scientists never left their throats. 

−273.15 degrees Celsius.

In that instant, no pulse, no breath, no spark of life remained. Nothing stood, except for him. 

Time seemed to slow, hours passing before warmth began to crawl back. 

Painfully, heat seeped through the frozen world, and the crystallized air cracked with high-pitched screams of pressure, shattering into diamond dust. 

It was then the silent agents of Oboros arrived. Their eyes fell upon him immediately. 

Pale and ethereal, kissed by cold, the figure before them didn’t seem quite human and yet terrifyingly so. 

The boy’s icy gaze met theirs, and a chill went down their spines.

The Grandmaster emerged from the shadows. A slow smile unfurled across his face. His voice was calm, but it carried weight enough to press against the frozen air. 

“Welcome to Oboros… Frost.”

The boy blinked, nothing more. 

The world had been shattered and rebuilt around him. 

And in that silence, every agent knew that they were in the presence of something far more untouchable than they could ever hope to be.