CHAPTER 0 — THE DAY THE SKY TURNED BLACK

The evening light spilled softly through the stained glass of an old cathedral in New Tokyo.
It had been twenty years since the sky last wept black.
Inside the quiet chapel, the scent of rain and candle wax lingered in the air as a group of children sat cross-legged before a woman in white robes.

Her hair was violet—long and smooth, catching the flicker of the candles—
and her eyes, soft lavender, reflected both calm and sorrow.
She was known as Sister Amane, the violet-haired priestess of the orphanage.

A small boy raised his hand timidly.
His voice was soft, but his question carried the weight of history.

“Sister Amane… what really happened during the first Black Rain?”

For a moment, Amane said nothing.
Her gaze drifted toward the tall windows, where the sky was gray and heavy, just like it had been that night long ago.
When she finally spoke, her tone was gentle—like a lullaby hiding a wound.

“It began here… in Tokyo,” she said. “Twenty years ago, the sky broke open without warning.
A black storm descended, swallowing the light, and from beneath the ground… monsters rose.”

The children listened closely, their eyes wide and unblinking.

“They were called Soul Beast Eaters,” she continued softly.
“Creatures that feed not on flesh, but on the soul itself.
They came from the cracks of the world—where reality had torn itself apart.”

She turned another page in the old scripture resting on her lap, its edges burned and faded.

“Humanity fought back… but we were weak. Cities fell. Nations collapsed.
And for the first time in history, humans were no longer alone.”

Her eyes lifted to the ceiling, as if she could still see the shadows of that war.

“Other races appeared—beings from forgotten bloodlines and lost worlds.
Elves, beastkin, hybrids—drawn to our world by the same rift that unleashed the beasts.
And they fought beside us, not as strangers, but as comrades.”

The boy leaned forward, his eyes bright.
“And that’s when the Guilds were made, right?”

Amane smiled faintly, nodding.

“Yes. The first Adventurer Guild was born here, in the ashes of Tokyo.
They called it Pendragon—a name meant to remind humanity of courage.
And from within that guild rose a legendary party: Valkriye.
They were the first to turn despair into victory.
Every time the Black Rain fell, they fought… and they won.”

Her voice carried a soft tremor of pride, but also longing—
the kind that comes from remembering something beautiful that no longer exists.

“Because of them,” she whispered, “people learned not to run anymore.
They learned to fight.
And when the world saw that even the rain could be conquered, fear began to fade.”

The children clapped quietly, relieved to hear the story end with hope.
But Amane’s expression didn’t brighten. She closed the book gently, her hands lingering on its cover.

“As peace returned,” she said, “the world built new Guilds—each nation forming their own, each hero chasing glory.
But with every light… a shadow always follows.”

Her eyes grew distant again, her tone quiet but firm.

“To protect them, the United Nations created the Tactical Android Division—TAD—
machines with human hearts, built to oversee the Adventurers and regulate the Dungeons that appeared after each flood of the Black Rain.
It was their duty to keep balance… to make sure no one lost themselves to power.”

A hush filled the chapel.
The rain outside had begun again, soft but cold.

Sister Amane closed the scripture and reached out, gently brushing her hand over the little boy’s head.

“That’s enough story for tonight,” she said kindly.
“The past can be heavy for hearts as small as yours.”

But before she could stand, another child spoke—her voice trembling with curiosity.

“Sister Amane… who is The Revenant?
People say he appears every time the Black Rain falls.”

For the first time that night, Amane’s gaze hardened, though her smile never left.
The candles flickered, and the sound of thunder rolled far in the distance.

“No one knows,” she answered softly. “Some say he’s a ghost.
Others say he’s the last of the lost souls.
He has no name… no past… and no mercy.”

She looked toward the dark window, where the rain slid down like ink upon glass.

“But one thing is certain,” she whispered. “Whenever the storm returns… so will he.
And when he comes, the monsters will fall—every last one of them.”

A stillness settled over the children.
The thunder grew closer.

Amane closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the sound of the rain.
When she opened them again, her smile was gentle—tired, but warm.

“Now,” she said quietly, “let’s pray the Black Rain never falls again.”

And as the candlelight dimmed,
the children huddled close together—
unaware that outside, somewhere in the storm, a shadow had already begun to move.

And so began the new war that would decide the fate of worlds—
the war beyond dimensions.