The origin

With caution, a person entered the deserted building, the gloomy light creating lengthy shadows on the broken remains of the walls. Due to the violence that had occurred. He moved looking around him, his eyes darting like he were looking for something he couldn't exactly identify.

The silence was broken by a familiar voice and a tiny crackling sound coming over his earpiece. "It's all right, Wolf. Just a little messed up.No need to worry about it."

The voice; The one of the person wearing the Wukong mask; made Wolf's jaw tighten. The casualness oozed from every word, and he could almost feel it.

Wolf said, his eyes narrowing as he stepped further into the room, "Yeah, I'm sure." When he arrived to the corner, there was a scattering of broken furniture.

At that moment, suddenly Wukong-masked persons voice burst through his earpiece once more, sounding gratingly casual: "How's the search, Wolf? anything interesting?

"I'm not sure," Wolf said dryly, "it seems like this was an hour ago or something."

There was a quick chuckle on the other end. "I think that was about an hour or two ago, but time is relative, isn't it?"

It was impossible for Wolf not to scoff. "What? An hour ago? And you're just giving me explanations now?" His tone was sarcastic as he remarked, "Wow, that's helpful." "I'm so happy I travelled this far for this great information."

His eyes searched the surroundings once more, he noticed the Raven mask lying on the floor and stooped to pick it up.

He remained motionless for a moment."He'll need this," he muttered to himself with a smirk.

Wolf's footsteps echoed through the deserted room as he made his way to the middle, his gaze sweeping over the broken furniture scattered on the floor. The recent commands that had brought him here were still weighing heavily on his mind. He felt uneasy about the entire situation, including the building, the purpose, and the curse. He hadn't been on the squad long enough to understand anything. He barely knew why he was even recruited.

He turned on his communication gadget and whispered, "Hey," in a quiet voice. "Are you still there?"

After a few seconds, the voice finally emerged. "I'm always here, Wolf. What's going on?"

Wolf's fingers twitched as he adjusted his ear plugin, but he didn't answer right away. The rumours of curses. It had all been too quick, too mysterious. He didn't know where to begin, but he needed answers.

Wolf started off by saying, "Listen... I've been meaning to ask," in an attempt to seem informal but with a hint of hezitation. “What’s this curse everyone’s talking about? You guys seem to have it all figured out, but I’m still in here, knowing nothing.”

On the other side of the line, the person chuckled, the sound irritatingly light, like it was all a joke. He dragged out the word, "Ah, the curse." “It’s a funny thing, isn’t it?”

Wolf scowled. The response was more... ambiguous than he had anticipated. "I'm not kidding. I don’t know what the hell you guys are dealing with here. Some curse. Some ancient thing. I don’t get it.”

"You don't understand?" The person on the other side responded with a faked surprise. “Well, will... eventually. it's not the correct time to talk about."

Wolf was becoming impatient.

He leaned against the wall, trying to suppress the impatience in his voice. “Come on, I’m not here for puzzles. I need facts. The Master... he’s the one who recruited me. He told me absolutely nothing about what was happening. What is this curse? why the hell does it matter? More-over what i'm even doing in hear? I have no idea Man!!”

There was a long pause on the other side. Wolf could almost feel the Wukong’s smile through the silence.

The person eventually said, "Well, since you're asking soo nicely," his voice still containing that annoying casualness. "It's a difficult curse. It’s not something that can just be explained in a few sentences, Wolf. It’s a little more involved than that.”

Wolf's fingers and jaws were clenched. "I don't require a stupid puzzle. Tell me what it does, please. For what reason are we pursuing this? Who owns it?"

"ok.. ok just listern to me" the person responded and continued in a silent voice, "There was someone... someone who used to be in our group. She belonged to the Saito clan, an old lineage that tied to this myths and curses." The person stopped for a while and suddenly sneered, "Ho sorry... sorry, forgot to say something After the cursed blade; Umbra, it was called, i mean the cused blade name is umbra; was broken into twelve pieces during a battle, those pieces vanished, and the spirits it imprisoned were set free by the 1st mortal who wielded that curse after Kara.”

"What?" Wolf paused for a moment, then sneered. "What the hell are you even talking about? The curse, the spirit, the blade called Umbra that's broken into twelve pieces? And why the hell is Japan involved in this all of a sudden?" He paused again, sneering loudly. "And who the hell is Kara?"

"Okay, be patient i already told that it's complicated" the person on the other side said it in a low voice, making it clear that the story is compleacated to understand.

"Listen patiently" he continued in a calm voice.

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Kara was a lost deity who manipulating the threads of fate for his own complex reasons. Residing in a moral gray arena, area where it's difficult to decide what is right or wrong, and there are strong arguments for both sides. 

He was the third of three siblings born from an unending primordial mayhem; kara, the god of shadow; Hodr, the god of creation and light; and Morna, the goddess of time and death. Kara wanted authority by controlling fate itself, whereas Hodr sought creation and balance and Morna maintained the flow of life and death.

Harvesting the spirits of the dead from the underworld, Umbra is an unbreakable, cursed weapon. Even the gods find it difficult to fight someone who wields it because of its great strength, it's one of the gratest weapons that can't be distoryed.

Kara forged Umbra using the soul of his own shadow, along with fragments of the Elder Fates, beings older than even the gods. He imbued the blade with the power to control both the light and dark aspects of fate, allowing the wielder to sever the threads of destiny or manipulate them for their gain. However, the weapon was cursed from the beginning; its user would ultimately find themselves caught in a never-ending loop of destruction; unable to avoid the consequences from their own manipulation.

The delicate balance preserved by the gods was disturbed by Umbra's ability to control fate and harvest the spirits of the dead. Kara or any wielder, would have complete control over creation, death, and life if the blade were allowed to untangle the threads of fate. This would destroy the roles of other gods, especially Morna, who preserved the flow of life and death, and Hodr, the god of creation and balance.

The gods were afraid that Umbra’s power would bring the entire universe into darkness.

Kara, the god of shadow having the ability to manipulate the threads of fate, However, every action Kara took to change the fate caused impacts in the universe, drawing the attention of the Lord of Fate. Karma was caused by God, an unbiased force, who thought Kara's desires as a danger to the cosmic balance.

With each act of control over fate, Kara's manipulation of the blade produced a more serious karmic consequence. The Lord of Fate intervened, using Kara's own actions against him. Kara attempted to avoid his karma, but the Lord of Fate brought about his demise, making him bear the consequences of his own actions. Since the curse of Umbra and the karmic effects trapped him in an unbreakable cycle of karma, his ambition to control fate ultimately turned out to be his downfall.

After Kara’s downfall, the gods, led by Hodr and Morna, wanted to destroy Umbra. However, the blade was indestructible, going against even the mightiest divine forces. Morna came up with a solution by using her control over time and death. She trapped the blade in a world of mysterious mist, beyond time, where its power would be suppressed and unknown to both immortals and mortals. This mist realm was said to exist between the material world and the underworld, an mist where time stood still and shadows stayed endlessly.

According to legend, ancient berserkers who beleve the stories of legends connected to curse and bless of deity, had previously been connected to the curse of Umbra. These berserkers were bound to the mist, making them even bounded to the curse of Umbra. They swore an oath to protect the weapon and prevent it from ever falling into mortal hands.

The Berserkers thought that because Umbra was both a gift and a curse from the gods, it should be guarded rather than used. They viewed their role as sacred. Over generations, the respect they had for Umbra turned into a form of worship, considering it as one of the spirit.

Time passed, and the mist where Umbra was concealed became a place of legend, A small number of people who were aware of the legends discussed them in whispers. The ancient berserkers, bound by their oath, continued their silent watch over the blade, their once-strong belief in its divine nature slowly fading into fear. The mist began to consume them, changing their minds and bodies over generations. As the time passed the mist remained as the place of legends and the story of umbra and Kara were forgotten.

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“Okay, okay, but...” Wolf’s brow furrowed in confusion, with a question mark in his voice. “Then what about Kael?”

“Oh, he’s the first wielder!” the voice on the other end responded, almost with a hint of casual amusement.

“Wait, wait. How does he know about the cursed blade?” Wolf pressed, still trying to understand the puzzle.

“I don’t know the exact details,” the person waring wukong mask replies, “but he wielded it, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, then why’s this new guy; Mruga, or Mriga, or whatever his name is; why’s he important?” Wolf’s tone was impatient, eager for answers. 

“He’s the ancestor of the first wielder, Kael,” the voice answered calmly. 

Wolf’s eyes narrowed, a list of questions trying to spill out. “Then how do you know he’s connected to Kael? How do you know he has that bloodline, I mean it's been many generations and also... how you know ?”

“Because of Naomi,” the person waring the wukong mask replied from the other side.

Wolf’s head snapped up, confused face. “Now who the hell is Naomi?” He sneered, frustration creeping into his voice. “You’re making this even more complicated!”

“Oh, come on, Wolf,” the voice teased, clearly enjoying the confusion it was causing. “Naomi is the one in our group, the one who belongs to the Saito clan. I have already mentioned it before.”

“Right…” Wolf muttered, his irritation growing. “But how does she know about this?”

“Because she actually wielded one of the twelve blades,” the person explained, sounding almost happy by Wolf’s growing confusion.

“Wait a minute,” Wolf’s voice softened, as the pieces started to click into place, though he still felt uncertain. “So, the twelve blades... they were all broken pieces of the same cursed blade?”

“Yes,” came the simple answer. “But there’s more to it.”

“Then why was it broken into twelve pieces?” Wolf’s frustration was palpable now. “What’s the point of all this?”

The voice on the other end snorted. “I already told you about that, didn’t I?”

“Oh, right,” Wolf mumbled, rubbing his temple in frustration. “It was to save the spirits or something, wasn’t it?” He wasn’t entirely clear on the details, but it seemed like he was getting closer to understanding the whole picture.

There was a moment of silence before the voice continued, as if it was letting Wolf to understand the things in his own confusion for a moment. “The Saito clan found one of the broken piece and they started guarding the blade. They’re the only ones who carry the curse as an honor. And the other blades were pass between hands. And in her case the blade was meant to stay within their bloodline, passing from generations to generations.”

Wolf’s expression tightened, absorbing the information as best he could. “So, the Saito clan just keeps passing it down through the generations?” he asked, trying to put it all together.

“Yes, that’s the idea,” the voice replied. “Each part of the broken blade was molded into a different weapon, a different form, so that it couldn’t be easily destroyed. Each piece was mounted separately, kept by those worthy enough to wield it.”

"Ok, then just listen, this is the last one, okay?" the wolf states and continues. "Why do they even carry down the broken blade?"

The voice on the other end sighed, clearly trying to make Wolf understand, but continued. “Because, the Saito clan doesn’t just keep the broken piece as a relic. They forged it into a weapon.”

Wolf blinked, confused. “Wait, wait... so you're saying they actually molded the broken piece into a different weapon?”

“Yes, Maybe....” the voice responded, sounding more serious now. “The original piece of the cursed Umbra blade was shaped into a katana. It’s a family passed down from one generation to the next, carefully guarded and kept within the clan.”

Wolf furrowed his brow, trying to follow along. “So, the Saito clan only has one piece of the Umbra blade, and it’s forged into a katana?”

“That’s correct,” the voice continued. “And they’ve held on to it for generations. The katana was made by the first Saito to wield it, and it’s said that the blade itself holds a connection to the cursed spirit of the Umbra. It’s not just a weapon ; it’s a symbol of the clan’s honor.”

Wolf exhaled sharply. “Okay, but where are the other pieces? If this is just one part of the Umbra blade, where the hell are the other Eleven?”

The voice paused, and then answered, “No one knows. After the battle, the twelve pieces of the Umbra blade were scattered. Some say they were hidden, others claim they were lost to time. But the Saito clan has kept its piece; the one forged into a katana; because when Naomi's ancestor found the piece he found different and thaught that its the blade that hold the power of Kami (Devine). The other pieces? They’ve remained a mystery. Maybe they were still broken.”

Wolf’s mind raced, trying to understand the complexity of the situation. “So, we’re chasing after a half-destroyed blade's pieces that no one can find?”

“Exactly,” the voice replied, the weight of the situation settling in.

Wolf with the conclution, states “ Soo,the pieces that remain are scattered, and no one knows where they are. That’s why it’s so crucial to find Mruga. He has the bloodline that ties everything back to the original wielder, Kael.”

"Not exactly," the voice responded, cutting through his conclusion.

“What?!” Wolf sneered, doubtfully. “Then what? Did I miss something?”

The voice sighed, as if preparing to reveal something bigger. “Actually, Mruga is not a pure bloodline.”

Wolf’s eyes widened, confusion growing. “What? Can you make it clear for me?” He was already exhausted from the tangled mess of information.

“Well,” the voice hesitated slightly, “he’s not a pure bloodline. He can be considered as a half-blood related or something like that.... You see, Kael died without ever having a child; he died a virgin.”

Wolf’s mind spun. “Then where did Mruga come from?” His smile with a mad gleam in his eyes. “Are you telling me...?”

“Mruga is... well, he’s a descendant of Kael’s twin or someone very closely related. Most likely a twin, who shares the same fate as Kael,” the voice replied, as if trying to make sense of it all.

Wolf’s lips curled into a grin, dark humor dripping from his words. “So how do we deal with him?”

The voice on the other end was a little more casual now. “We can use him as a mediator to find the other pieces of the blade. However, he’s just a creepy nerd who likes to take risks. Somehow, the master thinks he could help. And that’s why he’s in our team.”

Wolf’s voice dropped into a sneer, “What the hell? He doesn’t even know about any of this! And we don’t even know anything about him! It’s like a mission with no aim... just a mess!”

There was a pause before Wolf continued, still trying to piece things together. “So, Naomi’s going to wield the blades and turn them into some ultimate weapon or something like that?”

Wolf sneered again saying, "wooow, i am actually in the team knowing nothing, am i a scapegoat too..."

“Exactly,” came the voice.

"What!" Wolf screams.

"No.no.no..." The person trying to explain, "Iam talking about Naomi"

Wolf's eyes narrowed, exhausted. “Then where is she?”

“Finding her is up to Mruga,” the person answered quietly.

Wolf’s frustration grew. “What? What does that even mean?”

“She went missing,” the person explained, almost reluctantly. “We need Mruga to find her.”

“So, at the very beginning, Mruga wasn’t even part of the plan?” Wolf sneered, disbelief in his tone.

“Exactly,” the voice replied. “Master found him and came to the conclusion that he was just some dead weight. Master thought he could actually be useless and also might slow us down, so we didn’t get in contact with him at first. Now, we need him, So.....”

Wolf let out a harsh laugh. “What the hell? So first, we need to save him from these unknown people who took him, and then with his help, we find Naomi?”

“Exactly,” the voice confirmed.

"Who are those guys, then? Do you have any clue, or do we need to find another strager to figure them out? It's like trying to find a needle in a desert." Wolf totally exhausted.

“ The one who took him... he’s not a stranger. He’s the president of EL, and he also wields one of the blades. But no one knows where he’s hidden it.” the voice came out.

Wolf groaned in frustration. “Okay, okay, don’t make this more complex. First, we need to save him, right?”

The voice was calm, almost too calm. “Yes. I’ll send you the location.”

Wolf’s patience was running thin. “And what about you? Where are you?”

“I’m busy, kid. Bye.” The voice clicked off, leaving the comms to beep as the line went dead.

Wolf stood there, his mind racing through everything he’d just heard. Saving Mruga. Finding Naomi. The cursed blades. It was all tangled up, and now he had no choice but to dive deeper into the mess; one way or another.

// Completion of Act-1
// To Be Continued.......