RISE, MAROS!!!

January 23, 2006. The sky hung heavy over the city, gray and silent, as if mourning something yet to happen. At Elementary School 586X, a boy named Arasaki Eien sat quietly in his fifth-grade seat. He was twelve years old, but his soul felt far older—worn down by pain.

Every day, he was bullied. Mocked, shoved, ignored. His classmates called him weird, pathetic, trash. He never fought back. He simply lowered his head and swallowed the pain. Even the teachers looked away. The world had turned its back on him.

That day, after the final bell rang, Arasaki walked home alone. His backpack hung loosely, his steps slow. He knew there was no warmth waiting at home. His parents were distant, and their attention had long faded.

But fate wasn’t done with him.

At the end of the street, five teenagers stood blocking the path. They weren’t from his school, but Arasaki recognized them. A small gang known for stirring trouble. At the center stood Yuousuke, a fifteen-year-old with messy hair and sharp eyes.

“Well, look who’s walking by,” Yuousuke sneered. “The little loser.”

Arasaki froze. His heartbeat quickened. He knew they wouldn’t let him pass.

“Where do you think you’re going, coward?”

Without a word, Arasaki turned and ran. His breath caught in his throat, his legs moved fast but clumsily. He didn’t know where to go—he just wanted to escape.

Yuousuke and his gang chased after him, their laughter echoing like demons enjoying the hunt.

Arasaki darted into an abandoned construction site. Rusted beams, broken scaffolding, and forgotten machinery surrounded him. He weaved through the debris, desperate to hide.

“WATCH OUT!!”

A voice shouted from above. A construction worker, panicked.

Arasaki looked up.

A massive steel beam had broken loose from an old crane. He had no time to move.

White. Then black.

The Void

There was no pain. No sound. No light. Only emptiness.

“Is this... death?” he thought.

He wanted to cry, but had no body. He wanted to scream, but had no voice.

Then, a whisper echoed in his mind.

“You were abandoned. Broken. But your fate is not yet complete.” “Rise... Maros.”

A crimson light enveloped his consciousness. Warm, yet unfamiliar. He felt pulled, reshaped, reborn.

The New world

Arasaki opened his eyes.

Wooden ceiling. Soft bed. Dark blanket. The sound of wind outside the window.

He sat up slowly. His body... was different. Taller. Slimmer. Brown hair fell gently over his shoulders, brushing against skin that felt smooth and unfamiliar.

“Where... am I?”

He glanced at the mirror in the corner. The face staring back wasn’t his. It was a young man with gentle red eyes and a calm expression.

The door creaked open.

A figure in a black cloak entered. Silent steps. Face hidden in shadow.

“Welcome back... Maros.”

“Who are you?”

“I am Shadow. Your servant. Assigned to guide you.”

“Maros...? That’s not my name.”

“It is now. The name given to you by this world. A name that will be remembered... or feared.”

Arasaki said nothing. He tried to recall his past. Only the voice remained. And the red light.

He stood and walked to the window. Outside, a quiet village stretched across the misty hills. Stone houses. Thin fog. A sky unlike anything he’d ever seen.

“This world... isn’t the one I knew.”

He looked at his hands. No bruises. No scars. Only clean skin and a strange, dormant power.

“If I’m no longer Arasaki... then I am Maros.”

But deep inside, the pain still lingered. The bullying. The steel beam. The silence.

He smiled. Soft. Calm. Deceptive.

“If this world gives me a second chance... then I’ll play it my way.”

Shadow bowed.

“Your orders, Lord Maros?”

Maros stared at the figure.

He didn’t know who his enemies were yet. But one thing was certain—

This world would know him. And it would smile back... unaware of the trap.