Hanz and Marcel (origins)

 Hanz and Hannah sparred in the forest, their blades clashing repeatedly. Purple and black kantar exploded around them with each exchange, tearing through trees and scorching the earth beneath their feet.

After several intense minutes, Hanz leaped away and dropped to one knee, gasping for breath.

Hannah didn't pursue. Instead, she studied him with a serious expression as she said sharply, "Your swordsmanship is decent. Only a few weeks and you've already mastered the fundamentals. But your kantar control is all over the place. You're placing limits on yourself."

Hanz looked up, still breathing hard. "I'm trying my best, but each time I use my kantar, I can feel its presence inside. I can feel it re-awakening."

Hannah listened intently, then nodded.

"Let it happen," she said. "If you lose control, I'm here for you. The truth is, whether you like it or not, your inner demon is part of you. You're a half-demon hybrid—and every hybrid is born with an inner demon, which is the source of your demonic powers. It's like a half-breed's kantar spirit. I'm going to help you defeat the demon inside you, but that doesn't mean it will vanish. It means you'll earn its respect. Once you do, you'll be able to use your powers freely."

Hanz straightened up, meeting her eyes. "Okay then. I'm going to let go. But you have to promise me something."

Hannah's expression turned serious. "What is it?"

"Promise me you won't let me kill anyone if I lose control."

Hannah smirked slightly. "I promise I won't let you harm anyone. If things go out of control, I'll knock you out."

Hearing those words, Hanz felt reassured. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let go.

He released his hold on the kantar he'd been suppressing.

His eyes turned crimson—red and black swirling together. Black kantar enveloped his entire body, so intense and so sudden that even Hannah's expression shifted. The pressure it exuded made the air itself feel heavy.

"This might actually be fun," Hannah said to herself, a genuine smile crossing her face.

They clashed again.

This time, Hanz kept pace with her. His movements were sharper, faster, more natural. Hannah noticed and smirked—he had potential. *Almost like you, Shu*, she thought to herself as she continued sparring with him.

But as the exchange continued, she noticed the signs. His teeth grew sharper. His kantar began to fluctuate erratically. His strikes became more aggressive, more desperate.

He was losing control.

"That's enough!" Hannah yelled. "You've reached your limit!"

Hanz didn't listen. Driven by instinct and demon influence, he swung his sword in her direction. A black arc of energy erupted from the blade's edge and hurtled toward her.

Hannah coated her arm in purple kantar and reached out with a single finger. The moment it made contact with the black arc, the energy dissipated completely.

Then she moved.

She crossed the distance between them in an instant, appearing directly behind Hanz before he could process her movement. With precision and full force, she struck the back of his neck.

His neck snapped.

Hanz's body went limp, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Hannah stood over him, breathing normally while his motionless form lay before her. "He won't wake up for a while," she muttered to herself. "That strike would have killed anyone else. His kantar will be too busy healing him from the brink of death to keep him conscious."

---

**In the Kantar Realm**

Hanz found himself in a space of pure white. There was nothing here—no ground, no sky, just endless pale emptiness. And standing before him was his inner demon.

It looked exactly like him, except for two things: paler skin and black hair instead of orange.

The demon looked weakened, tired, but its smile was knowing.

"Having trouble controlling your demonic kantar, I see," it said.

Hanz stared at it with disgust. "Why am I here? And why do you look like me?"

The demon chuckled at his expression. "You lost control of your kantar and fell under its demonic influence. Hannah knew this—so she killed you. Technically."

Hanz's confusion deepened.

"Your body," the demon continued, "will interpret death as an emergency signal. It'll pour all your kantar into healing you, bringing you back from the brink. Meanwhile, your consciousness is trapped here—in your kantar realm. A space between life and death. The only way back is if I release you."

Hanz processed this, then asked, "So what do I do? How do I go back?"

The demon's smile widened. "That's the problem. I'm not going to release you unless you make me."

Hanz looked at the weakened form before him—pale, clearly drained. He extended his blade and entered a fighting stance.

"You really sure you want to do that?" Hanz asked. "You look like you can barely stand."

The demon's smirk turned predatory.

In the next instant, it crossed the distance between them—faster than Hanz could track. Its fist connected with his gut, sending him flying backward. Hanz crashed hard, coughing up blood as he gasped for air.

The demon approached slowly, that smile never leaving its face.

"I may not be at full power," it said, "but I'm still more than enough for you."

Hanz pushed himself up, blood dripping from his lips. He couldn't help but grin despite the pain.

"The only person I need to worry about beating up here is you," he said, flaring his kantar around his body. "So I don't need to hold back anymore."

His entire frame was engulfed in black energy. He dashed toward the demon with everything he had. The demon met him halfway, its smile growing more maniacal as they collided.

They exchanged blows. Hanz was faster, more direct. But the demon anticipated every move, countering with surgical precision.

Then—a flash.

A memory.

His mother. She was doing something, moving with purpose, but before Hanz could make out what was happening, the memory snapped. The demon used that split second of distraction to slash across Hanz's chest.

"Concentrate," it hissed.

Hanz looked down. A gaping wound split his torso open—but it healed immediately, his hybrid physiology working overtime.

He flared his kantar again and dashed at the demon with supersonic speed.

The demon simply raised one finger and stopped him in his tracks.

"Unrefined kantar," it said calmly, "is when you flare it beyond your control."

It flicked him away like he weighed nothing.

Hanz recovered quickly, his mind already working through what the demon had said. *I always thought flaring my kantar more meant more power. But what good is speed and power if you can't control it?*

He closed his eyes, centering himself.

*Lower the output to what my body can handle. Then, when I want to attack, increase it in short bursts.*

The demon noticed the shift immediately. Hanz's kantar output dropped—but when he dashed forward again, his strikes were precise, calculated. The demon actually had to block now, surprise flickering across its face.

"He's becoming more precise," it muttered to itself, a smirk playing at its lips. "Not just all brawl."

They continued their exchange, the quality of their combat rising with each passing second.

And with each clash, the memories came.

Stronger.

Sharper.

Hanz saw flashes of his mother. Saw her face. Felt her presence in his kantar.

Until finally, the white realm shattered.

Hanz and his demon found themselves in a completely different space—a bedroom. And before them was a scene frozen in time: his mother, giving birth.

Hanz looked around in confusion. "What's going on?"

"Your kantar clashing against itself must have awakened a memory," the demon said quietly. "A memory still edged into your kantar from long ago. All we can do is watch."

A maiden raised the newborn infant high. "It's a boy, Mistress. What shall you name him?"

Hanz's mother, weakened and pale, could barely speak. "Name him... Hanz."

The maiden took the baby away to be cleaned. But before she left, Hanz's mother began to deliver again.

"Twins," another maiden gasped in astonishment. "Twin half-breeds of a Demon King. The Demon Lords will not be pleased."

A scream erupted from the hallway.

"They found us! The demon army found us! We have to—"

A blade pierced through the doorway.

The maiden fell.

The demon army flooded in, slaughtering everyone in their path. Hanz's mother. The other maidens. Everyone.

Except one baby.

"So this is the child of Lord Dragon," one of the demon knights said, hefting the second infant. "A hybrid trained from birth to serve our cause. It will be a huge advantage in this war."

They took the child—Marcel—and vanished, leaving only blood and corpses behind.

The memory ended.

Hanz and his demon were back in the kantar realm. But Hanz was visibly shaken. His hands trembled as he turned to the demon.

"Tell me that was a dream," he said desperately.

The demon's smirk had completely vanished. For the first time, its expression was genuinely serious.

"It wasn't," it said quietly. "That was a memory. Our memory."

The demon paused.

"We have a brother. A twin brother."

Hanz opened his mouth to respond, to ask a thousand questions—

But the world dissolved around him.

---

Hanz gasped awake in the real world, his eyes snapping open.

Hannah was standing over him, worry etched across her face. The moment she saw his eyes open, relief flooded through her.

"Sheesh, what took you so long? You scared me," she said.

Hanz couldn't respond. His mind was spinning with one single thought that consumed everything else:

*I have a brother. A twin brother. And I have to find him.*