Chapter 1: The Laugh That Shattered the Sky
The emergency siren tore across Teivac City like a living thing.
[MANATUDE: 7.5] [CLASS: CITY DEVASTATOR — HUMBLE JACK] [WARNING: Eastern mana barrier breached. Evacuate Sector Seven immediately.]
People screamed. Windows shattered. The sky itself seemed to bruise as the Maiju tore through the barrier in a storm of black lightning and rotting petals. Humble Jack wasn't some mindless beast. It wore the face of a smiling child stitched onto a colossus of bone and shadow, and it laughed with a voice that made children wet themselves.
From the roof of the tallest spire in the city, a single figure stood against the wind.
Light Sabre grinned like the world owed him a joke.
"Another raid?" He rolled his shoulders, golden cape snapping behind him. "Again? Man… this is gonna be fun."
He stepped off the edge.
Wind roared past him as he dropped, then flared bright. A trail of white-gold light exploded behind him like a comet. He shot straight toward the monster, voice booming across the district so every terrified citizen could hear.
"PEOPLE OF TEIVAC! YOUR FAVORITE IDIOT IS HERE!"
The Maiju turned its stitched smile toward him. Humble Jack raised a hand the size of a house.
Light Sabre met it mid-air, fist already cocked.
"Come here, baby boy."
The impact was a thunderclap. His knuckles slammed into the creature's sternum with a sound like a mountain breaking. Bones the thickness of ancient trees cracked. The Maiju staggered, petals of shadow exploding outward.
But then it retaliated.
A pulse of pure disruption ripped outward—mana nullification, the kind that made sorcerers feel like infants again. Light Sabre's aura flickered. His Persona Arts, the extensions of his very soul, went dead silent.
"Ugh—!" He coughed, eyes wide for half a second. Then the grin returned, sharper. "You're a terrible dance partner, you know that? HAHAHAHA!"
He laughed so hard the sky seemed to laugh with him. The disruption tried to choke his power, but Light Sabre had never needed permission to be unstoppable. Crimson-gold light ignited around his body like a second sun. He locked on.
"Persona Art: Netherlands Strikes!"
One devastating uppercut. Straight to the Maiju's core.
The creature's chest caved in with a sound like the end of the world. Black petals scattered into the wind. Humble Jack let out one last childish giggle before it dissolved into fading mana and dust.
Silence fell over the ruined street.
From the alley two blocks away, a fourteen-year-old boy watched with his heart trying to punch its way out of his ribs.
Shinji Tsukishima couldn't breathe.
"Light Sabre…" he whispered, voice cracking. "The number one sorcerer in the entire Limana Kingdom… He's real. He's right there."
His legs moved before his brain caught up. He stumbled out of the alley, school bag still slung over one shoulder, uniform torn from earlier that day. The hero was already turning to leave when Shinji found his voice.
"Mr. Light Sabre! Sir!"
The man in the golden cape paused mid-step.
Shinji skidded to a stop in front of him, chest heaving. Up close, Light Sabre was even taller than the statues—broad-shouldered, messy silver hair, and eyes that looked like they'd seen every joke the universe had ever told.
"H-Hello! I'm Tsukishima Saitou—Shinji! I'm your biggest fan! You were incredible! The way you just—boom!—and the laugh and—everything!"
Light Sabre chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Hey, kiddo. Appreciate the love, but I gotta—"
"Wait! Please! One question!"
The hero sighed, but there was no real annoyance in it. "Shoot."
Shinji's hands shook at his sides. The words he'd practiced in the mirror every night came tumbling out.
"I was born powerless. No mana. No Arcane core. Nothing. In a world where Arc decides everything—your worth, your future, your right to even stand here—I have zero. Do you think… someone like me could ever become a sorcerer? Or even a wizard? I just… I want to be like you. I want to protect people. I want to matter."
The silence that followed felt heavier than the Maiju's fist.
Light Sabre's easy smile faltered. For the first time, the laughter in his eyes dimmed.
"Kid…" He exhaled slowly. "You gotta face reality. There are safer dreams out there. Good, honest ones. You can't reach for something that'll burn you alive just for trying."
Shinji's throat closed. Tears stung hot at the corners of his eyes. He sat down hard on the broken pavement, knees drawn to his chest, because standing suddenly felt impossible.
Light Sabre looked at him for a long moment, jaw tight, like the words tasted bitter in his own mouth.
"…Sorry, kiddo," he muttered. Then he was gone—leaping into the sky in a streak of gold.
Shinji stayed there until the sirens faded and the cleanup crews arrived. He didn't cry out loud. He just let the tears fall quietly, the way he always did.
Why am I like this? Light Sabre thought as he soared away. I saw myself in that kid… so why the hell did I break his dream?
But he already knew the answer.
Lies were kinder in the short term. Truth hurt less than false hope.
Hours later, the market district smelled of smoke and roasted chestnuts. Shinji walked home with his head down, replaying the hero's words on loop.
Then he heard the cackling.
Three witches—hunched, black-veined, eyes glowing like spoiled milk—circled a boy on his knees. Shinji's stomach dropped.
Kuraido.
His old friend—former friend—looked smaller than Shinji had ever seen him. The same Kuraido who used to call him "dumb" and "worthless" and beat him bloody behind the academy gates. Now he was gasping, arcane core flickering weakly as the witches reached for it with greedy fingers.
"Ihihihihi! Such a delicious little arcane you have," one witch crooned, nails lengthening into claws. "We'll suck it right out and make it ours. Hold still, sweetie."
Shinji's feet stopped.
Run, his brain screamed. You have nothing. You are nothing.
But his fists clenched anyway.
My idol didn't run.
He remembered the way Light Sabre had laughed in the face of nullification. The way he'd turned a disadvantage into a punchline.
Shinji's legs moved before he could stop them.
"HEY!"
The witches turned.
Shinji sprinted straight at them like a madman, heart hammering so loud it drowned out everything else.
What do I have? he thought wildly. Fists. Legs. That's it. That's enough.
He pictured every move Light Sabre had made today. Not the fancy arts—just the footwork. The positioning. The sheer audacity.
"Locked on!" he shouted, voice cracking.
He spun—360° kick to the first witch's ribs, reverse spin to the second. Both flew back into market stalls with satisfying crashes.
The third witch snarled and thrust her hand forward.
"Witch Art: Flames of Danzel!"
Blue hellfire roared toward Shinji's face.
Shit. I'm dead.
He closed his eyes and screamed—
"PEOPLE OF TEIVAC! YOUR FAVORITE IDIOT IS HERE AGAIN!"
A streak of gold slammed between them. Light Sabre's open palm caught the flames like they were nothing and crushed them into sparks.
"Light Bash."
The witch exploded backward through three stalls and didn't get up.
Shinji hit the ground hard, ears ringing. The world spun.
When it stopped, Light Sabre was crouched beside him, gentle fingers checking for broken bones.
"Hey, kiddo. Wake up. Come on."
Shinji blinked up at the hero's face. "Sir…?"
A familiar voice cut in, shaky with awe. "Sir?! The number one sorcerer in Limana?! Light Sabre?!"
Kuraido stared like he'd seen a god.
Light Sabre gave the boy a quick once-over. "You've got a strong arcane, kid. How'd these witches even get close—? Never mind. Just rest. Defense Force is already on witch-hunt duty."
Two hours later, after statements and bandages and the sun dipping low, Shinji trudged toward home alone. His ribs ached. His pride ached worse.
A shadow dropped from a rooftop.
Light Sabre landed in civilian clothes—black hoodie, jeans, silver hair still messy. He looked almost… normal.
Shinji froze. "Sir?! What are you doing here dressed like that? Someone might recognize—"
"Relax, kid. I'm off the clock." Light Sabre scratched his cheek, suddenly awkward. "Look… I owe you an apology for earlier. The way I shut you down. I saw myself in you, and it scared the hell out of me."
Shinji's mouth opened, closed.
Light Sabre kept going, voice quieter now. "I was born powerless too. No mana. No core. Just a loud mouth and a death wish. Then I met the Dawn Tribe—the warriors who still worship the old God of Laughter and Light. They didn't give me an Arcane core. They gave me something better. They trained me until my body became the weapon. Until my will became the art. That's why I laugh when I fight. Because the world tried to tell me I was nothing… and I answered with a joke so loud it broke the sky."
He looked straight at Shinji, eyes fierce and kind at the same time.
"I choose you, kid. You didn't run today. You charged three witches with nothing but fists and heart. That's rarer than any Arcane. So yeah… you can be a sorcerer. You can be whatever the hell you decide to become. And I'm going to train you myself."
Shinji's eyes burned. "Sir… thank you. I—I don't know what to—"
Light Sabre reached into his hoodie and pulled out something impossible.
A small, glowing orb—no bigger than a marble—pulsing with warm golden light. It looked alive.
"Take it."
Shinji recoiled. "What the—? Is that… part of your heart?! Are you dying?! Sir, no way—!"
"Shut up and listen, kid." Light Sabre laughed softly. "This is my Arcane Core. The real one. It's been passed down through the Dawn Tribe for generations. It doesn't just give power. It reflects who you are—your personality, your dreams, your limits, your fire. If the owner allows it… it can be given. Willingly."
He pulled out an ancient-looking hammer made of starlight and bone.
"Don't move."
Shinji swallowed hard. "Y-yes, sir."
The hammer came down—not hard, but precise. The core sank into Shinji's chest like it had always belonged there.
No pain.
Just warmth. Like the first sunrise after the longest night.
Shinji gasped. "It… it doesn't hurt. I feel… something. Like the world just got louder."
Light Sabre smiled, but there was exhaustion behind it now. "Good. Come find me every day after school. I'll train you until you can laugh at monsters the way I do."
Shinji's voice cracked. "But… your power? Won't it disappear?"
The hero shrugged, already turning away. "My time's limited anyway. The tribe knew it. I knew it. That's why I waited for someone worth passing it to." He looked back once, grin wide and bright. "Go home, successor. Rest up. Tomorrow we start turning a powerless kid into the next beacon of hope."
Shinji stood there under the streetlights, hand pressed to his chest where a new heartbeat now thrummed—golden, defiant, and full of laughter yet to come.
For the first time in his life, the world didn't feel impossible.
It felt like it was waiting for him to punch it in the face.
To be continued…