Two thousand years after the world quietly fell apart, humanity still lives under a blood‑red sky, hunted by monsters called Klins and held together by fear, routine, and whatever hasn’t broken yet. Power exists, but it isn’t heroic. Some people awaken Kishu through sheer will to keep going. Others fall into Koshu, drawing strength from fear, belief, and desperation. None of it is fair. None of it is clean.
Jainen Oxaryz isn’t trying to change the world. He’s just trying to survive it.
He avoids factions, avoids power, avoids attention—because in this world, being noticed gets you killed. But strange silences follow him. Old symbols react to him. And reality itself seems to hesitate when he’s nearby, as if it can’t quite decide what to do with him.
There are no chosen ones here.
No gods watching.
No promise that things will get better.
Only a broken world… and a boy who keeps walking through it anyway.

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