CHAPTER 0: Yota and The Child NOVEL VER.

Start of Part I — The buried Man

Sunlight dripped through the trees, warm and steady, painting the dirt trail gold.

A girl’s voice broke the stillness, light and off-beat.

“La-la-la… Grandma, can we get ice cream after?”

Her tone carried the kind of hope that still trusted promises.

The grandma smiled. “Sure thing, sweetie. Anything for my precious sweetheart.”

They walked a few steps more before the girl stopped in confused terror.

Her fingers slipped free. She pointed. “Grandma… what’s that?”

The old woman followed her gaze.

At first she saw only leaves and soil. Then—skin. A man’s face. Half-buried. Still.

Her breath caught. “Is that a— dead body?! I’m calling the authorities!”

Before she could move, the “body” stirred.

Eyes opened. Calm. Irritated.

“Shut up,” he said. “Can’t you see I’m sleeping?”

The grandmother froze mid-step.

The girl leaned forward, unafraid.

“Um… mister, are you okay?”

The man exhaled through his nose, voice flat.“Don’t worry about me. Go enjoy your comfortable middle-class life.”

“We’re not the ones buried in dirt, young man!” the grandmother snapped.

He sighed, almost whispering to himself.

“I came out here for peace… and this is what I get.”

Then his arm shot up from the ground, finger pointing past them.

“Wait— is that the ultra-rare toy of the Second Hero?! The one every kid’s fighting over?!”

Both turned. Only wind and leaves.

“There’s nothing there,” the grandmother started—

A gust swept through the path, scattering petals.

When they turned back, the man was gone. Just a fresh hole in the dirt.

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Title Card

FAINT — Chapter 0: Yota

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Sky Escape

Above the clouds, the world was silent.

Yota drifted through it, one hand shading his eyes.

Nowhere left to hide from civilians… or the WUG.

He patted his pockets. Empty.

Need to find a job soon… great.

Below, the city stretched—rooftops, smoke, gridlines of order.

He let himself fall, landing softly on a roof.

From the street, a man squinted upward.

“What the hell?”

Yota scratched his head, pretending to belong.

“Sure thing, sir… I’m on my way down!”

The man fetched a ladder.

“What were you doing up there?”

“Uh… roof work. For my uncle.

The man frowned.

“Yeah? Then how’d you get up there with no ladder?”

Before Yota could answer— BOOOOM.

A shockwave rolled through the neighborhood.

They turned. A house down the block belched flame and smoke.

“I’m calling the authorities!” the man yelled. “Get back inside!”

He ran. Yota stayed. Shoulders sank.

“Not this again. Can’t I get one quiet day?”

He looked toward the fire. The reflection lit his eyes.

Behind the annoyance sat something heavier.“Fine,” he muttered.”

⸻

The Fire

The house groaned under its own heat.

Yota stopped at the door. The air trembled.

“I’ll have to hurry—before more people show up.”

He kicked once. The door tore free and slammed the floor.

“Is anyone here?!”

From above came a baby’s cry, thin and desperate.

A woman’s voice wavered through the smoke.

“Hush, my sweetheart… please…”

Yota exhaled; the air turned dark around him.

Colors drained from the world.

“Presence.”

Through the haze, three faint lights hovered overhead.

“There’s three here,” he said. “Right above me.”

The ceiling rumbled.

“Efficiency.”

He half-smiled.

“Really? This is the most efficient option? …

He crouched. Energy coiled.

“Alright.”

Upstairs, the mother rocked the crying child.

“Shh… it’s okay. The voices are almost gone…”

Below, Yota framed the ceiling with his fingers.

“Perfect.”

He launched upward.

BOOM.

Wood exploded. Smoke burst.

He broke through, slammed into a beam, muttered,

“…Ow.”

The woman froze.

“Are you guys okay—?”

A beam cracked above them. Yota’s eyes snapped up.

He moved before thinking, wrapping mother and child in his arms.

“I got you.”

Glass shattered under his kick.

KRAK-KSSHHH!

They hit the street in a single blur of motion.

The baby went quiet.

Behind them, the house burned itself out.

⸻

End of Part I

Start of Part II - The Three Souls

The crackling of fire faded. Yota crouched on the curb, catching his breath while the rescued mother clutched her baby close.

For a moment, there was silence — the kind that makes the world feel suspended between heartbeats.

Yota studied them both, his tone calm but uncertain.

“Wait… wasn’t there three people?”

The woman blinked. Her body stiffened.

“Three…?” she echoed, voice fragile.

Yota scratched his head, gaze flicking between her and the burning wreck behind them.

“Yeah… I felt three souls. But I only saw you two.”

Something in her face shifted — a tremor deep in the eyes.

The kind that meant the mind was somewhere else entirely.

Her voice quivered. “Did… you also hear the voices?”

Yota frowned. “Huh? What voices?”

“The voices in my hea—” she began, but he raised a hand, cutting her off. “Sorry, lady. Hold that thought.”

Down the street— boots pounded pavement, voices closing in.

Yota standing slowly from the curbside. “Can’t risk being seen by the authorities. Don’t tell them I was here.”

He turned, muscles tightening for a sprint. Then — softer, almost as an afterthought — “But ask them for help… if you want to.”

By the time she blinked, he was already gone — a blur of motion cutting through the smoke, vanishing into the maze of rooftops.

A shout cut through the chaos: “There! That’s the widow’s house that burned!”

Boots pounded the pavement. Neighbors, officers, and strangers poured into the street. Their voices tangled in a single, anxious wave.

“Are you alright?”

“What happened here?”

“Did anyone else make it out?”

The woman didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on the direction Yota had vanished. The echo of his words lingered like a ghost: Don’t tell them I was here…

Someone knelt beside her—an older man with soot on his shirt and worry in his eyes. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”

She blinked, finally lowering her gaze to the infant in her arms. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Are the voices… real?”

A scoff came from the crowd.

“Voices? What’s she talking about?”

“Did she start the fire herself?”

“Hey, answer us!”

The older man straightened, spreading his arms wide to block them. “Enough! She’s in shock. We help first—questions later!”

His words slowed the mob. Some muttered; others simply watched, unsure which side to take.

The flames behind them groaned, collapsing inward with a final sigh.

Movement rippled through the crowd—hands searching, voices lowering. The baby whimpered once and fell quiet again

End of Part II

Start of Part III - The King Of War

The city was still recovering from the fire. The smoke had thinned, but it hadn’t vanished. Somewhere in that haze, the world kept moving — one side cleaning up what burned, another preparing to make history.

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The King’s Office

A single strike of the King’s fist sent a stack of papers across the room.

The sound cracked through the silence like thunder.

“Where is he?!”

“He’s going to make me late for the inauguration!”

His words hit the walls and came back harder. Across the room, Knight 1 leaned against the window, calm but testing the line.

“You picked someone powerless as your second knight.”

“What did you expect?”

The King looked up. The air seemed to tighten around him. One sharp stare — cold, direct.

“You think my decision was a mistake?”

Knight 1’s smirk died, saying nothing.

The King’s voice lowered, slower.

“I asked you a question.”

No one moved. Even the air vents stopped humming. “No, sir. I don’t.”

The King stood there a second longer, silent, then turned away. His hand brushed the scattered papers as he exhaled through his nose — more like a warning than a sigh.

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The Streets

In another part of the city, Knight 2 was sprinting through the streets, late enough to feel every second scrape his chest.

“Man, I’m so dead. First day and I’m already late”.

Running through the neighborhood, eyes flicking between rooftops ahead. Then something moved — fast — above him.

A shadow passed over the street.

Knight 2 looked up. A man was running across the roofs.

“Not now…” he muttered. “I don’t have time for this.”

Then the stranger glanced down. Their eyes met for one second — long enough for recognition.

Mid glance The stranger (Yota) covers his mouth in attempt to not be seen. He vanished behind the next roof before Knight 2 could blink.

Knight 2 slowed.

“Who was that guy…?”

A beat later, softer:

“Did he notice me first?”

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The Arrival

The office doors burst open.

Knight 2 stumbled in, breathless.

“Sorry—sir!”

Knight 1 didn’t look up. The King was already walking to the door.

“We’re going to be late,” he said flatly. Then without turning: He left the room. The sound of his footsteps was enough to end the conversation.

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The Inauguration Grounds

The hall was wide, gold, and loud with whispers. Cameras clicked. Lights burned.

At the center stood the 24th President, smiling like he’d been born under spotlights. Behind him, the King of War stood unmoving, his two knights behind him like shadows.

“As your beloved President,” the man announced,“I must first honor the ancestors who built this republic… and secured power for our bloodline.”

Knight 1 muttered just low enough:

“Yeah, yeah. Hand him the title already.”

The President stopped. His eye twitched. Slowly, he turned.

“What did you say… you filthy A-Class?!”

The crowd froze. A few gasps slipped through the silence.

He pointed, shaking with fury.

“How dare you! I’ll have you execu—”

He stopped. The King had moved. Just one step. That was all.

The President’s voice fell apart in his throat. The King’s presence filled the space like weight pressing on glass.

“I suggest,” the King said quietly, “you get on with the inauguration.”

The President’s face drained of color.

“B-But I am your presiden—”

“The King,” he said, cutting him clean, “answers to no one.”

Nothing moved. The lights hummed. The entire crowd stared.

The President’s hand dropped. His forced smile crawled back.

“R-Right… ahem. Let’s… continue.”

⸻

Aftermath

Knight 1 lowered his head.

“Thank you, sir.”

The King didn’t look back. The King’s eyes were somewhere else — beyond the podium, beyond the crowd, staring at something distant only he could see.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak. The room obeyed his silence.

He was no longer just a Hero or an Officer. He was the line between war and peace of the WUG!

⸻

End of Chapter 0 — “Yota and The Child”