Chapter 1:

Chapter 1- The World I Wanted (世界が欲しかったもの / Sekai ga Hoshikatta Mono)

Last Genesis

Morning sunlight slipped through the gaps of a crooked wooden shack. Dust drifted in the beams like glitter caught in slow motion. A small chicken stood on Hajime’s chest, puffed, proud, its claws digging through the thin blanket.

“Yama... It’s too early,” Hajime mumbled, eyes half-open.

The chicken blinked. “Cluck.”

He groaned, sat up, and ran a hand through the chaos that was his hair. Amber strands caught the light, his face a mix of exhaustion and amusement.

Outside, the morning air was cold. Hajime splashed water over his face from the barrel and sighed. Eisenwald always smelled of woodsmoke and bread dough at dawn.

He grinned, hefted a hay bale with one arm, and tossed it onto the cart like it weighed nothing.

Children laughed in the fields. One of them threw a pebble, while another jumped on his back. He carried both of them without breaking his stride, laughing until they all tumbled into the grass. Life in Eisenwald was quiet, peaceful, and perfectly ordinary. Hajime loved it that way.

Later, while chopping wood, the old widow from next door hobbled over with tea.

“You remind me so much of your mother,” she said.

He smiled faintly. “Yeah… I hear that a lot.”

She swatted the back of his head with her cane. “Then get back to work before she haunts you.”

They both laughed, and for a moment, the world felt like it would never change.

That evening, Hajime walked to the hill behind the village. A lone grave rested under the tallest oak, marked by a rough wooden plank: Mom.

He knelt, laid a wilted flower on the earth, and watched the sun melt behind the hills.

One day, he thought, I’ll build a world without borders or tyrants...a world where people can… live freely. I miss you so much mom, wish you were here to see the man I’ve become.

The wind whispered through the grass.

Hajime was back at work before sunrise. His shirt hung loose over his shoulders, skin glistening with sweat as he split logs in a steady rhythm. The sound of the axe echoed softly between cottages.

He paused, squinting at the forest’s edge. Maybe today would finally be quiet.

A bee drifted past his face. Its wings buzzed once, then shot off into the trees.

A flock of birds burst from the tree line, wings flashing white against the sky.

Goats bleated wildly, smashing their horns against the fence. Even Yama scrambled under a trough.

Hajime frowned. “What’s gotten into you all—”

A hunter stumbled from the woods, bleeding, clutching his ribs.

“Raiders… in black armor. Not from any faction I’ve seen. They have to be with the Thorned Pact.”

The elder’s face went pale. “The Pale Requiem’s military leaders?”

The hunter nodded, trembling. “I saw their leader. A man… swallowed a wolf whole. No blood. Just the sound of chewing and laughter.”

The crowd fell silent.

One name left the elder’s lips like a curse. “Dreadbane.”

Hoofbeats thundered down the road.

From the forest’s shadow emerged four riders clad in black-red armor, their leader towering above them. His helm was carved like a horned insect, eyes glowing ember-green.

“Eisenwald,” he said, voice distorted through steel. “The Council of the Wretched demands tribute. Your food storage, your farming equipment, or your lives. Whichever’s worth more.”

Dreadbane stepped forward, lifted grain from a basket, examined it, and crushed it beneath his boot. “This is what you think of us? You would bring us ”

A boy shouted, voice cracking. “That was ours!”

Dreadbane turned slowly. “Learn your place, boy.”

Emerald flame erupted from his palm. The hay cart ignited; screams filled the air.

Fire climbed the houses. Chickens scattered.

Hajime’s instincts roared. He shoved two children behind him. “Run!”

He snatched a shovel from the dirt and charged, aura already stirring. Gold-silver sparks flickered faintly along his arms, traces of Seiki, the life-energy every being carried.

He swung with all his might as the metal rang. The shovel cracked against Dreadbane’s helm.

The commander barely flinched.

“A human without a Will dares to strike me?” Dreadbane laughed, low and hollow. “I admire that foolishness.”

He grabbed Hajime by the throat and slammed him into the ground. The dirt split beneath him.

Hajime coughed up blood, gasping.

“You should’ve stayed quiet, boy.”

Green fire spread across Dreadbane’s gauntlet and into Hajime’s skin. The air shimmered with heat.

Pain tore through him, but rage burned hotter.

“Get… out of our village!” Hajime shouted and drove his forehead into the monster’s mask.

Almost instantaneously, a shadow blade pierced his stomach. Heat and sound vanished until everything faded away.

White.
Weightless.
Silent.

A figure stood before him. Barefoot, luminous, clothed only in a woven leaf at his waist. His eyes were ancient and kind.