Intro[1]
This world was built on glyph sigil–based sorcery.
Glyphs that did not simply cast jutsu—but recorded truth itself.
They were written with hands, etched into bone, burned into stone, and whispered through breath. Every seal carried memory. Every casting left a record. The world remembered because glyphs remembered for it.
Until the old clans began erasing each other's pages.
And when history started disappearing by design, the world forgot itself.
Kuroku did not sleep.
It pulsed beneath the surface of Akurai like a wounded organ—alive, restless, burning. Neon glyph-signs buzzed against cracked stone, their light bleeding into smoke-choked alleys where illegal sigils were traded like currency. Steam hissed from broken vents. Erased clan marks scarred the walls like half-healed burns.
Rai Embermane stood in one such alley, hands loose at his sides, flame simmering just beneath his skin.
Three bounty hunters blocked his exit.
They wore mismatched armor and licensed glyph chains, polished and precise—private clan enforcers who believed paperwork made them powerful. The tallest stepped forward, confidence dripping from his voice.
"You've been glyphcasting without a license, freak. That flame of yours ain't sanctioned."
Rai tilted his head, ember-red locs spilling over gold-flecked eyes. His sharp canines flashed in a grin.
"Didn't realize fire needed a permission slip."
He clapped his hands.
The air bent.
A jagged glyph ignited in his palm—raw, unstable, alive. It lunged forward like a beast of flame, snapping its jaws around the first hunter's arm. The alley exploded in orange light as the man screamed, armor charring instantly.
The second hunter formed clean hand-seals, glyphs locking into a flawless chain.
Too flawless.
Rai stepped into the casting flow and punched straight through it. The glyph shattered like glass. The hunter hit the wall and didn't get back up.
"Predictable," Rai muttered. "Polished. Pathetic."
He turned toward the third—
And froze.
Something thin sliced the air between his hands. Not wind. Not steel.
Silence.
The fire unraveled mid-sign, collapsing into ash.
A shadow shifted at the edge of the alley.
Nox Sairen stepped forward, calm and unreadable, fingers held in a subtle micro-sign—two fingers, a slight twist of the wrist. Barely a gesture at all.
"We're not here to kill them," he said quietly.
Rai scowled. "They started it."
"We're already outlaws," Nox replied. "Do you want the High Sealers on us this early?"
The remaining hunter didn't wait for permission. He ran.
Rai exhaled through his teeth. "You always ruin the fun."
"Fun gets you buried."
Together, fire and shadow walked deeper into Kuroku, past walls etched with burned-out clan sigils—names the world had tried to erase.
Far above the underground city, light did not flicker.
It obeyed.
In the Celestial Chamber, cloaked elders sat around a massive glyph wheel. Nine symbols glowed faintly. One space lay cracked and empty.
A projection hovered above it—Rai's image, incomplete, resisting record.
"He's unstable," one elder murmured.
"If he finds the Eleventh Glyph," another said, voice cold, "we lose control of history itself."
Silence followed.
Then judgment.
Rai stood on a rooftop overlooking Kuroku's red-lit chaos, flames curling faintly at his fingertips.
"I'm not trying to save this world," he said. "I'm just burning my way to the truth."
Behind him, Nox did not move.
"And I'll be the one to erase you," he said, "if you go too far."
Below them, the city pulsed.
The hunt had already begun.
[1] I had to revise the whole first chapter. Thanks in advance for understanding.