Pain came first.

  It pulsed through Omega Heinriel’s body like fire running through shattered glass. His back scraped against the cold earth where he had been thrown, and for a moment the sky above him seemed too bright, too distant, as if the world itself had retreated beyond his reach.

  The taste of iron filled his mouth.

  Blood.

  His blood.

  Somewhere in the distance he could hear voices—mages shouting, metal clashing faintly, the heavy wind rolling through the mist that now covered the English field.

  But Omega Heinriel could not focus on any of it.

  Instead, his vision dimmed.

  The present faded.

  And something far older, far deeper, rose from the depths of his memory.

  ---

  Years Ago — The Nanaya Clan

  Snow drifted across a quiet mountain valley.

  Hidden deep within ancient forests, far from the eyes of ordinary civilization, stood the secluded grounds of the Nanaya Clan—an infamous family whose name was whispered in secret circles of assassins and demon hunters.

  Their training ground was soaked with blood and history.

  And in the center of that field stood a child.

  A five-year-old boy.

  Omega Nanaya.

  His expression was calm—eerily calm for someone his age. His dark hair moved slightly in the cold wind, and his small hands were already stained crimson.

  Around him lay bodies.

  Hundreds of them.

  Men.

  Warriors.

  Assassins sent to test the clan’s newest prodigy.

  And they were all dead.

  The last of the thousand attackers lunged forward with a desperate scream, sword raised high above his head. The blade swung down with murderous intent—

  But Omega moved first.

  A flash.

  A blur.

  The boy slipped beneath the strike like flowing water. His hand shot upward, fingers forming the precise killing motion taught only to elite members of the clan.

  A clean strike.

  The man collapsed instantly.

  Silence followed.

  A thousand corpses lay scattered across the frozen ground.

  And the only one left standing was a child.

  Clap. Clap. Clap.

  The slow sound of applause echoed from the wooden platform overlooking the training field.

  Omega looked up.

  Standing there was a tall man with sharp eyes and long black hair tied neatly behind his head.

  The leader of the Nanaya Clan.

  Omega’s father.

  The man smiled with unmistakable pride.

  “Well done,” he said, his voice firm yet warm. “There you go, my boy. You are already an Elite-Level Nanaya at such a young age.”

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  He crossed his arms thoughtfully.

  “Even I couldn’t kill that many men when I was your age.”

  Omega blinked.

  For a moment the emotionless mask on the boy’s face softened, and a small smile appeared.

  “Thanks, Dad,” Omega Nanaya said.

  His voice carried the innocent excitement only a child could possess.

  “One day… I want to be a great assassin like you.”

  His father chuckled quietly.

  “Careful what you wish—”

  But before he could finish his sentence—

  A pair of gentle arms wrapped around Omega from behind.

  He suddenly found himself lifted off the ground.

  “Ah!”

  Omega looked up in surprise.

  His mother stood there, smiling softly.

  Lucie Nanaya.

  Her golden hair flowed like sunlight against the snow, and her warm eyes held none of the coldness common among the Nanaya clan. Where most members embodied the silent lethality of assassins, Lucie carried something different.

  Kindness.

  Love.

  She pulled her small son into her arms, holding him close against her chest.

  “My sweet little boy,” she said gently.

  Her fingers brushed through his hair.

  “You shouldn’t wish to become like your father.”

  Omega blinked in confusion.

  “Why not?”

  Lucie smiled warmly.

  “Because the job of the son… is not to become the father.”

  She tapped his nose playfully.

  “It is to surpass him.”

  Omega stared at her.

  Then slowly nodded.

  “…Okay.”

  From the platform, Omega’s father laughed loudly.

  “Hah! Looks like I’ll have competition one day.”

  The peaceful moment lingered.

  Snow fell softly around the family.

  For a brief moment in time…

  Everything was perfect.

  Till That One Night Everything Burned

  Fire.

  That was the first thing Omega remembered.

  The peaceful snow-covered valley had become a nightmare of flames.

  The Nanaya compound burned violently.

  Buildings collapsed.

  Screams filled the air.

  Omega Nanaya ran through the smoke, his small legs trembling as panic overtook his heart.

  “Dad?!”

  His voice cracked as he searched desperately.

  “Dad!!”

  But when he reached the central courtyard—

  He froze.

  His father stood there.

  Or rather—

  His father’s body.

  Thousands of swords pierced him from every direction, pinning him upright like some grotesque monument of death.

  Blood poured down the blades.

  The clan leader’s eyes were empty.

  Lifeless.

  Omega’s world shattered.

  “…Dad?”

  His voice came out as a whisper.

  Tears filled his eyes.

  Then—

  A shadow moved behind him.

  Something massive.

  Something inhuman.

  Omega turned slowly.

  Standing behind him was a towering figure wrapped in dark aura.

  A demonic presence.

  Its blade moved faster than lightning.

  The sword came down toward Omega’s neck—

  But suddenly—

  A body stepped between them.

  The blade pierced straight through her chest.

  “—!”

  Omega’s eyes widened.

  “M… Mother?”

  Lucie Nanaya stood there, the sword buried through her heart.

  Blood spilled from her lips.

  But she did not fall.

  She stood firm.

  Shielding her son.

  “MOTHER!!”

  Omega screamed, his voice breaking into desperate sobs.

  Lucie coughed, blood running down her chin.

  But despite the wound—

  She smiled.

  Her trembling hand reached down and gently patted Omega’s head.

  “Don’t cry…”

  Her voice was weak, barely audible.

  “…my son.”

  Omega clung to her desperately.

  “Please don’t… please don’t die… Mother please…!”

  His small hands gripped her clothes as if refusing to let reality take her away.

  Lucie’s breathing grew shallow.

  Yet she continued smiling.

  “My sweet boy…”

  Her fingers brushed through his hair once more.

  “No matter what happens to me…”

  Her voice softened.

  “My love will always guide you.”

  Omega shook his head violently.

  “No! Don’t say that!”

  But deep inside…

  He understood.

  She was telling him to run.

  And he refused.

  “I’m not leaving you!!”

  But suddenly—

  Footsteps.

  A new figure rushed into the burning courtyard.

  A knight in shining silver armor.

  Blonde hair.

  A long cloak bearing the insignia of the Holy Church.

  Tom Addison.

  The knight froze as he took in the scene.

  The destroyed clan.

  The demons roaming freely.

  The dying woman shielding a crying child.

  “…God…”

  Without hesitation, he rushed forward.

  He grabbed Omega and pulled him away.

  “Kid! This place is too dangerous! I’m getting you out of here!”

  Omega struggled violently.

  “No! Save my mother too!!”

  Tom’s face tightened.

  “…It’s too late.”

  Omega screamed.

  “No! NO!!”

  But Tom didn’t hesitate.

  He turned and ran.

  Omega thrashed in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he looked back.

  “Mother!!”

  Lucie stood in the burning courtyard.

  Blood covering her body.

  Yet she smiled gently.

  “I hope you become…”

  Her voice faded beneath the roar of flames.

  “…an amazing man one day.”

  Then the demons swarmed.

  Dark shapes devoured her as the fire consumed everything.

  Omega’s scream echoed through the burning valley.

  Back to Present — England

  Omega Heinriel’s eyes snapped open.

  His body trembled.

  Blood dripped from his chin as he slowly pushed himself up from the ground.

  The battlefield returned.

  The mist.

  The mages.

  The knights.

  And standing before Caliburn—

  Azravael Karture.

  The Dead Apostle tilted his head slightly, observing Omega with mild curiosity.

  Omega’s breathing grew heavy.

  His vision sharpened.

  The demonic aura.

  The pale skin.

  The cruel smile.

  Memories aligned.

  The figure from his childhood.

  The monster who killed his mother.

  Omega’s voice trembled.

  “…You.”

  Azravael raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh?”

  Omega slowly stood.

  His fists clenched.

  “You were there.”

  The Dead Apostle stared for a moment.

  Then a slow grin spread across his face.

  “Ah…”

  Recognition flickered in his eyes.

  “The little survivor.”

  The mages nearby froze in confusion.

  “What…?”

  Azravael chuckled darkly.

  “I remember now.”

  His gaze gleamed with amusement.

  “You were that child from the Nanaya clan massacre.”

  Omega’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.

  Rage boiled beneath his calm exterior.

  “You killed my mother.”

  Azravael shrugged casually.

  “I killed many people that night. Hard to keep track.”

  His smile widened.

  “But yes… now that I look closely…”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “You do resemble her.”

  The air around Omega seemed to distort.

  Memories of Lucie Nanaya’s final smile flashed through his mind.

  His nails dug into his palms.

  Blood ran between his fingers.

  But his voice remained steady.

  “…I will kill you.”

  Azravael laughed.

  A genuine laugh.

  “You?”

  His aura flared violently, crushing the ground beneath his feet.

  “You can barely stand.”

  In a blur—

  He vanished.

  The mages screamed.

  “Behind you—!”

  Omega moved instinctively.

  CLANG.

  Azravael’s kick slammed into Omega’s guard, launching him backward again.

  The ground shattered beneath the impact.

  Yukio caught Omega before he could crash further.

  “…You okay?” Yukio asked quietly.

  Omega wiped blood from his mouth.

  “…Yes.”

  His eyes never left Azravael.

  The Dead Apostle now stood calmly beside the stone.

  Caliburn gleamed behind him.

  Waiting.

  Azravael spread his arms mockingly.

  “Well then, survivors of humanity.”

  His voice echoed through the mist.

  “Come.”

  His smile sharpened into something monstrous.

  “Try and take the sword.”

  Omega Heinriel stepped forward.

  His gaze burned with unshakable resolve.

  To reach Caliburn…

  To avenge his mother…

  He would have to pass through death itself.

  And Azravael Karture stood directly in his path.

  The First Trial of the Sword had begun.