~David's past memories in his tranced state~
David was trapped in an endless spiral of torment, each loop pulling him back to the moment of his family's demise.

Over and over, the past played out, relentless, unforgiving. But whenever a new cycle began, the grip of memory's horror eased its hold on his conscious mind, lulling him into the deceptive warmth of familiarity.

Once again, it began.

He was unaware now - lost within the vivid reconstruction of his younger self, oblivious to the trap tightening around him.

They had just arrived, stepping out from their family's sleek black SUV onto the marble driveway of their new home.

The mansion loomed large before them, its polished windows reflecting the crimson hues of the setting sun. The air was cool, tinged with the sharp scent of fresh-cut grass and the faint, salty breeze drifting in from distant shores.

The towering estate, with its ornate wrought-iron gates and pristine white stone façade, exuded a sense of wealth and security.

Its manicured hedges, meticulously shaped into perfect geometric forms, created an air of tranquility that contrasted sharply with the storm raging in David's unseen future.

His mother, Ciarah, glowed as she stepped forward, the soft coos of baby Alexa filling the space between them. The gentle rise and fall of her chest soothed her infant daughter, while her warm smile cast a momentary light against the dark fate that awaited them. Her long chestnut hair, loose and flowing, danced in the cool evening breeze, her emerald eyes glimmering with hope and contentment.

Zakael, his father, was all business. His face, hard and chiseled, bore no trace of the joy that softened Ciarah's features.

His eyes, as cold and grey as a winter storm, scanned the surroundings with precision as though assessing every inch of the mansion's opulence. His grip on the luggage was firm, his movements measured and exact. The air around him seemed heavier, weighted by an invisible tension that only David, in these repeated cycles, would come to understand.

David, standing between them, felt the distant hum of unease. His small hands clutched a suitcase, not too heavy, but just enough to feel a part of this grand new chapter in their lives.

Above, the sky darkened, deep purples and burnt oranges bleeding together, a final farewell from the sun before night's full descent.

Each step they took toward the grand entrance felt like crossing into a world that promised safety, wealth, and prestige.

But it was all an illusion.

Behind the thick oak doors and gilded walls, the shadows of their fate were already stirring.

Yet, David was blind to it all, submerged in the calm before the storm, trapped in the nostalgia of what once was, oblivious to the repetitive cycle of memories tightening its noose around his mind.

***

On that fateful day, Zakael called out to his son, David, for one of their regular practice sessions.

The air was crisp, carrying with it a faint scent of earth and water as they made their way to their usual spot by the riverbank. It was a peaceful stretch of land, where the gentle murmur of the river harmonized with the rustling leaves in the trees.

As they walked side by side, Zakael maintained his steady, purposeful stride. Though his reputation was that of a man driven by focus and discipline, his demeanor softened in the presence of his family. His steel-gray eyes, often sharp and calculating, now held a warmth reserved for moments like these.

Zakael turned to his son with a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He ruffled David's hair with a playful hand, a gesture at odds with the stoic exterior he usually presented to the world.

David looked up at his father, the familiar warmth of his touch grounding him, even though he sensed there was more to these sessions than just practice.

ZAKAEL: "Son! You have excelled greatly in learning the Blaze family's fighting style. However, you are yet to learn our most unique fire techniques,"

YOUNGER DAVID: "What could that be, father?" David asked with curiosity.

ZAKAEL: "It's our family's masterpiece - a signature technique that will set you apart as the true successor of the Blaze family. Today, you'd be learning the Fire Beam. But depending on your level of creativity, you may even evolve it into a better one like the Ultra Flame Beam."

YOUNGER DAVID: "Woa, seriously!?" David's face lightened up with excitement.

ZAKAEL: "Indeed, son. Watch closely on what I do next." Zakael instructed.

<<As the patriarch of the Blaze family, Zakael once held sway over the red Imperial flame aligned with the Pillar realm's hierarchy. However, his Imperial flame mysteriously left him to his son, David, the moment the latter was born.
This uncommon and peculiar occurrence designated an infant David as the new fire master within the Pillar realm's hierarchy. Simultaneously, it demoted Zakael to the lower saint realm's hierarchy. This was attributed to the stipulation that within a family in the superhuman hierarchical order, there could not exist two fire masters.>>

Zakael inhaled deeply, summoning the crackling energy of his beta flames. Unlike David's superior Imperial flame, his own fire burned in a brilliant azure hue, a controlled yet fierce force.

He made a deliberate motion, releasing a concentrated beam of fire from his hands, directing it toward the far side of the river.

The sheer power of the flame was undeniable - where it struck, the water vaporized in an instant, leaving a faint mist hanging in the air.

David watched in awe, the thrill of witnessing his father's mastery filling him with excitement. His pulse quickened as he imagined trying it for himself, and his eagerness spilled into his words as he voiced his desire to give it a shot.

Zakael, sensing his son's enthusiasm, gave a knowing nod, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

ZAKAEL: "Go ahead, son. Let's see what you can do," he said, his tone tinged with pride and encouragement.

David mirrored his father's stance, taking a steady breath to summon the formidable power within him. His Imperial flame, vastly superior in potency, roared to life, crackling with raw energy.

With steady hands, he unleashed a fiery beam across the river. The fire erupted from him with a force that dwarfed his father's earlier display, tearing through the air like a cataclysmic surge of energy.

It hit the opposite riverbank with such ferocity that the ground trembled, and the once calm waters began to boil under the intensity of the blast, as if the river itself threatened to dry up.

Zakael stood in silent admiration, a proud smile spreading across his face. His son had mastered the Fire Beam technique with just a glance - an extraordinary feat for someone so young.

There was nothing left for Zakael to teach him today.

But just as they were preparing to leave, a thunderous bang erupted from the distance, cutting through the serenity of the riverside like a sharp blade.

Both father and son froze, their senses on high alert.

The sound echoed ominously, sending a ripple of unease through the air as they turned their attention toward the source of the disturbance.

YOUNGER DAVID: "Father look! It's coming from the neighborhood's," David pointed his finger at the blast's location.

ZAKAEL: "[Unveils an horrified expression.] No way! The Chaos Force found us. We must hurry home to your mother!"

David and his father sprinted with urgency, the pounding of their feet echoing their growing dread.

The riverside was mercifully close to the Vegas Neighborhood, but as they reached home, a chilling scene brought them to an abrupt halt.

Before them stood a menacing group of sorcerers, their dark robes rippling in the wind like shadows come to life. Flanking them was a squad of fire wielders - the infamous Nether Guards. These brawny warriors, known for their prowess within the Saint realm's hierarchy, were minions of the Netherworld.

And leading them was none other than Mako Blaze, Zakael's younger brother. His eyes glinted with malevolent intent, his presence suffused with the cold, chaotic energy of the Netherworld. Beside him stood Modred, the dark figure of unequaled menace, his power drawn from the terrifying depths of the Chaos Force.

Zakael's heart sank as his eyes found Ciarah. She stood immobilized, her face pale with fear, already taken hostage by Mako and Modred. Her emerald eyes, usually so vibrant, were clouded with helplessness as she was held at the mercy of her captors.

A torrent of emotions surged within Zakael - fury, disbelief, and heartbreak. His younger brother, Mako, once family, now stood on the side of their greatest enemies.

ZAKAEL: "Why, Mako? Why team up with the filthy sorcerers of the Chaos Force?"

MAKO: "Tut-tut, brother. Those words hurt you know. Is this how you greet your little brother?" The smirk tugging at his lips showed no regret, only ruthless ambition.

ZAKAEL: "What do you want from us?"

MAKO: "Brother. I have come only to claim what's rightfully mine. The mantle of leadership should be bestowed upon me,"

ZAKAEL: "Hm, have it if you want, but leave me and my family be,"

MAKO: "Hmm? Just like that? You think me stupid, don't you? If I must have this come to pass, then I must eliminate any potential threat to my rule in the future, starting with him," Mako declared, his finger extending toward David.

ZAKAEL: "You have gone mad, Mako! You are beyond redemption! If you wish to hurt my family, then I won't mind killing you first!"

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