Chapter 1 : Awakening

Below is the English translation of the provided text, crafted to stay as close as possible to the original meaning, tone, and vivid imagery while maintaining the emotional intensity and narrative flow.

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“Drake! Look at what I’ve done! It’s absolutely gorgeous, isn’t it?” The voice was lively, chirping like the song of a nightingale, clear and slightly high-pitched, sparkling with playful mischief in every word, carrying a radiant smile and the “innocent” joy of a “seven-year-old child.”

That voice came from Jinnie, a “youth” with a petite frame, standing only as high as the waist of the person beside him. His skin was pale and rosy, so smooth it seemed a single hard bite could make blood gush forth, filling the throat. The thought of those red, pulsing muscles and the pungent tang of fresh blood was enough to drive one wild with excitement.

His shoulder-length hair seemed to hold the sky itself, a pale blue interwoven with white tufts like clouds. The strands at his temples were grown long, tied into small buns secured with golden metal bands etched with sun motifs.

His eyes were large and round like a rabbit’s, their deep crimson crystal-like hue breathtakingly beautiful. Paired with his childlike, innocent appearance, there was no trace of sharpness or world-weariness in his gaze—only a “pure, untainted innocence.” Reflected in those clear eyes, veiled by a thin mist, was a painting he had created from the wishes of a human consumed by hatred—a vibrant canvas of blood, fire, smoke, and falling rain.

Beside him stood “his partner,” the one he found the most fascinating in his thousands of years of existence—Drake.

Drake appeared no older than twenty-five, with a face that could be called handsome. His features were sculpted harmoniously: a sharp jawline, a high nose slightly hooked like a hawk’s beak, a square chin, and thick eyebrows. But the most striking feature was his deep, piercing eyes, sharp as blades. They exuded the deadly danger of a natural predator, with dark emerald irises and slit pupils black as ink, like the gaze of a leopard stalking its prey.

His skin contrasted sharply with Jinnie’s—not soft or fair, but a healthy, sun-bronzed tan. Freckles dusted across his cheeks, not detracting from his appearance but adding a certain “allure.” His jet-black hair was neatly trimmed at the sides and back, while the top was slightly longer, lightly tousled but not unkempt, accentuating his sharp jawline and cold demeanor.

“Ugly as hell,” Drake replied bluntly, without a hint of tact.

In response, the smile on the diminutive Jinnie’s face never faltered, his rabbit-like eyes still gleaming brightly. Yet, within that “innocent” gaze lurked something chilling, perverse, and cruel—so intense that Drake could feel it spilling from Jinnie’s eyes, threatening to drown his soul in a bottomless sea. A shiver ran down Drake’s spine, his chest tightening with an unnamed dread. The fear of the creature beside him coiled like an invisible venomous snake, slithering through every corner of his soul. He quickly turned away, unable to meet those blood-red eyes for even a second. He knew this wasn’t ordinary fear but a bone-deep terror of something beyond his comprehension—a feeling he had never experienced in their past collaborations.

Jinnie tilted his head, letting out a eerie giggle like wind chimes under the rain.

“Really? But I think it’s drop-dead gorgeous! Look at those ‘little rats’ screaming in the sea of fire, hear them shriek, watch them run, and then…”

Jinnie paused, his right hand clenching into a fist, his left hand open wide, and then—

*Smack!*

He slammed his right fist into his left palm, producing a dry, sharp sound.

“Blood splatters like blooming flowers… That red color… I’m absolutely obsessed!”

As he spoke, his eyes gleamed with frenzied excitement, a perverse, feverish delight, as if merely mentioning blood made his heart pound like war drums, fueled by the twisted instincts of a “mad artist.”

Drake didn’t respond—or rather, he didn’t know what to say. He saw clearly in that laugh a warped madness that shouldn’t exist in a child.

Not wanting to continue the conversation, Drake changed the subject. “Hey, didn’t you just grant a wish for some Guardian? What did he wish for?”

At the question, Jinnie’s grin widened, and he let out a childish giggle tinged with a demonic undertone.

“Oh, oh, oh… You mean that Xi Xi guy or whatever his name is?”

He tilted his head, his blood-red eyes wide, sparkling as if on the verge of tears from laughter.

“He wanted the whole city wiped out! Ha! Isn’t that adorable?”

Jinnie clapped his hands excitedly, as if cheering for a grand performance, his eyes twinkling with delight.

“Of course, I had to grant that wish! But not in a boring ‘poof, everyone’s dead’ way—that’s no fun!”

“I let that kitty have it slow… Skin peeled, tendons torn, guts ripped out one by one, the sound of bones snapping… All with his own claws, letting the blood drip down his fangs! So satisfying!”

He burst into louder laughter—not a normal laugh, but a deranged, distorted cacophony, like the wail of an ambulance siren in a nightmarish midnight, or the triumphant howl of a predator cornering its prey.

Drake let out a quiet sigh, the sound blending with the rain and the chaotic wails of tortured souls around them. He had no interest in hearing this lunatic ramble about his “art” any longer.

“So, we just wait, right?”

“Yup! Wait for that shoe-shiner Xi to snap, then we swoop in and collect the bodies!”

A soft laugh echoed through the ruins of an unfinished high-rise building. From the twelfth floor, their vantage point offered a clear view of the blood-soaked, corpse-strewn main street. But amidst the torrential rain and deafening explosions, no one bothered to notice the two vultures watching from above.

Drake leaned against a cracked wall, lightly tapping his finger on the blade of an old, tarnished dagger. Suddenly, he froze.

Jinnie seemed to sense the same thing, his blood-red eyes glancing at Drake before turning toward the main street. He sniffed the air, inhaling deeply, his small nose twitching.

“Oh! Two more rats!”

He squealed, his voice chirping like a bird, but this time laced with a different kind of excitement.

Far off, two figures emerged—one female, riding a lightning wolf, and one male, running alongside—charging through the rain into Jinnie’s blood-soaked “painting.”

The rain poured like a deluge, the wind whipping painfully against their faces. On the wolf’s back was Annie, clinging tightly to its thick fur, her eyes shut tight, teeth clenched as she focused on maintaining her mental link with the beast she rode.

Lightning cracked, tearing the sky apart. Though tamed, the wolf’s instincts made it roar like a second bolt of thunder. Its four powerful legs slammed into the shattered wall, propelling it forward like a bullet through the rain, carrying Annie Cross with it.

Rin ran alongside, his steps nearly silent on the wet ground, as if the rain itself shielded his movements. No one would believe a lazy slob like Rin could keep pace with a lightning wolf, a creature dubbed “fanged lightning.”

“Can you run faster?!” Annie shouted, turning her head, her wet hair clinging to her soft cheeks.

“Switch places! I… *huff*… I’ll ride… You… You try running!!” Rin panted, gasping for air. His lungs burned, his heart pounding like a frenzied rock band’s drumbeat. His legs trembled with each step, as if the next one might tear his tendons, leaving him sprawled like a torn sack in the freezing rain.

“Damn it… All I wanted was to lie down, eat snacks, drink tea, and read manga… How the hell did I end up running for my life like a dog’s chasing me?!” Rin groaned inwardly. The bitter frustration of his peaceful day being shattered felt like someone snatching his half-eaten snack and tossing it into the gutter.

But despite his internal complaints, Rin’s legs didn’t stop. He and Annie charged toward the city center, where the ground shook with the rhythm of a death knell, where the screams of humans and Arcanus intertwined in chaotic echoes that threatened to rupture eardrums.

Each breath, each step brought them closer to hell. When they stopped, they had fully stepped into this battlefield.

The ground was cracked, the air thick with the acrid stench of burning smoke mixed with the nauseating reek of blood. Modern skyscrapers now lay in ruins, twisted and deformed as if molded by an invisible hand. Corpses littered the ground—some still twitching, others growing cold, but hardly any remained intact. The least damaged had lost an arm; others had their guts torn out and devoured, some missing half their torsos.

Amid the carnage, a pack of lightning wolves—Medium-class Arcanus—surged like a storm of electricity. They didn’t move like instinct-driven predators but in disciplined formations, like trained soldiers executing precise maneuvers. They struck at key intersections, cutting off reinforcements, isolating groups into lone prey. No one commanded them, no one led, yet their movements were chillingly calculated, as if guided by an unseen force.

Standing amidst the rubble, Rin clenched his fists. His eyes scanned the scene, sensing something deeply wrong, unnatural. A chill ran down his spine.

“Something’s off…”

He muttered, but no one had time to heed his thoughts. A massive wave of electricity exploded behind him, throwing him off his feet and out of his hazy musings.

For a moment, everything went dark. The air was sucked from his lungs as he was flung backward. A searing pain tore through his back, making his hair stand on end.

*BOOM!*

His back slammed into the cold ground, a numbing pain radiating through every muscle and bone, so intense he couldn’t scream, only gasp like a pathetic dog.

Rin coughed violently, the stench of burnt flesh and rusted iron flooding his nose, nearly making him retch. His white shirt was a tattered rag, stained, scorched, and riddled with holes. His right arm was numb, heavy, as if disconnected from the rest of his body.

Gritting his teeth, Rin forced himself up despite the pain. But his legs trembled, soft as mud, refusing to obey.

The world spun in his eyes, an eternal nightmare. He wanted to stand, to run, to escape this feeling as he always had, but his legs betrayed him. Facing claws that could claim his soul, Rin had only two choices: become their meal or fight for his life.

There was no time to think. He didn’t want to die—not again, not ever. He had to fight.

The howling wind roared in his ears. The massive shadow of a lightning wolf, its electric patterns glowing, charged straight at him. Its eyes burned like twin bolts of lightning, radiating death. This wasn’t an ordinary wolf—it was a dominant alpha.

Those deathly eyes reflected in Rin’s golden gaze. He assumed a stance he’d been taught: left hand forward, right hand back, back lowered. In that moment, fear seemed to vanish from his mind. Arkitect, the power he hadn’t used in ages, awakened.

A cold surge of electricity pierced his spine, his consciousness shrinking in shock. Arkion flooded his body, unfiltered, chaotic, like a stampede of wild beasts trampling his veins. Veins bulged like tree roots on his right arm, Arkion pooling there.

“Live…” Rin whispered, his eyes locked on the charging wolf.

Its jaws opened wide, a black abyss like a gateway to hell, its fangs sharp enough to sever anything.

Something inside Rin… awakened.

Rin swung his fist with all his strength. A crack resounded, fangs shattered, the wolf’s muzzle crushed, blood spraying like sparks from clashing metal.

His arm tore open, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to die.

The blow pierced the beast’s skull, blood splattering across his face and body. The wolf’s Arkion energy flowed into Rin. He had won