A view of absolute darkness fills the world.
There is no sound.
No wind.
No sense of time.
Then, slowly, the black screen begins to fade—as if someone is forcing a forgotten memory back into existence.
The scene that emerges looks distorted, unstable, as though it does not wish to be remembered. The air itself feels heavy, thick with blood and lingering magic.
Two figures stand within the scene.
One of them is standing.
The other lies motionless on the ground.
The one standing is a child—no more than a boy—his body trembling, yet unmoving. He has messy black hair, brown eyes dulled by shock, and he wears a black jacket over a white inner shirt. His left arm is tightly wrapped in bandages, but the cloth is soaked through, fresh blood dripping down his fingers and staining the ground beneath him. The injury is recent—far too recent.
Strangely, the blood splattered across his clothes does not all belong to him.
Before him lies a teenage girl.
She looks similar to the boy—black hair, the same sharp facial features—but her eyes are crimson red, glowing faintly even as her life fades away. Her body is badly injured. A deep wound on her head continues to bleed, pooling beneath her as her strength slips away with every passing second.
Beside her rests a smiling mask.
A mask she almost always wore.
It lies cracked and stained with blood, discarded not by choice, but by fate.
The boy stares at her, his expression twisted beyond recognition.
Madness and grief mix together within his eyes—two emotions that should never coexist in a child so young. His fists are clenched, nails digging into his palms, as if pain is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality.
Then, something happens.
From the dying girl's body, a red mist begins to rise.
At first, it looks like smoke—but soon it becomes clear that it is magic. Dense, violent, and overflowing with intent. The aura surges violently, wrapping around her like a storm before rushing forward and forcing itself into the boy's body.
The moment the magic enters him, the world glitches.
The image flickers.
Reality fractures.
Strange red markings—like tattoos formed from cursed energy—spread across the boy's body. They twist unnaturally, forming patterns that do not resemble any known magic system. The markings pulse once… twice… then sink into his skin.
The girl exhales her final breath.
Her body goes still.
She is dead.
In front of them, floating calmly in the air, stands another presence.
A god-like figure.
Its form is unclear, distorted by overwhelming power, yet its intention is unmistakable.
It is laughing.
Not loudly—but softly, mockingly—as if everything unfolding before it is nothing more than entertainment.
The boy's hands tremble. Blood drips from his fingers, falling endlessly to the ground. His emotions spiral out of control—grief turning into rage, sorrow turning into hatred.
Something deep inside him awakens.
A fury so vast it feels as if it could tear the universe apart.
And then—
The scene collapses.
The memory fades back into darkness, as if it was never meant to be seen in the first place.
Sunlight floods the world.
A sharp contrast replaces the nightmare.
Bright blue skies stretch endlessly above a magnificent capital city built upon a massive island—Agnes, the heart of the world's order and power.
Tall stone walls surround the island, reinforced with layered magical barriers and advanced defensive enchantments. These defenses protect the capital from both physical invasion and magical catastrophe. Connecting the island to the surrounding wasteland desert is a massive, reinforced bridge, beneath which runs an underground subway system designed for rapid transportation.
Inside one of those trains sits a mysterious masked teenager.
He appears to be around eighteen years old.
He wears a long coat and the same smiling mask seen beside the dying girl in the memory. The mask hides his expression completely, making it impossible to read his thoughts.
He looks out the window calmly as the train slows to a stop.
"…I wonder," he mutters softly, his voice low and distant,
"What will happen today?"
The train doors open.
The masked teen steps out onto the platform.
"Looks like I'm here now," he says quietly.
This world is one where every person is born with a special ability.
Magic is not rare.
Power is not unique.
Yet how that power is used defines everything.
Some become heroes.
Some become adventurers.
Others fall into darkness.
Unlike ordinary towns—which rely on guilds to manage adventurers and quests—the capital city of Agnes operates differently.
Here, there is only one authority.
The Royal Capital Academy of Agnes, commonly known as RCAA.
RCAA is not just an academy—it is the most powerful organization in the world. Candidates from every nation gather here, hoping to earn the title of Hero. Only the most exceptional are allowed entry, and even fewer survive long enough to graduate.
Those who train here are not merely students.
They are protectors of the capital.
Unlike normal guild quests, assignments from RCAA are considered national-level duties. Students may be ordered to eliminate threats, suppress invasions, or capture dangerous individuals who threaten global stability.
Most importantly—
RCAA is the only organization authorized to accept the National World Wide Quest (NWWQ).
A quest so dangerous that its success or failure can decide the fate of the world itself.
The masked teen ascends the stairs leading into the city.
The streets are crowded with people—merchants, adventurers, scholars, nobles. The noise is overwhelming, movement restricted by sheer population.
At the center of the island stands an enormous palace-like structure, radiating authority. That building houses the royal family.
Clutched in the teen's hand is an examination notice.
The entrance exam for RCAA.
As he walks, something catches his attention.
A child is crying.
Beside the child stands a pink-haired teenage girl, her face partially obscured by the crowd.
The masked teen approaches them.
"Hey," he asks calmly, "what's going on here?"
The girl turns to him.
"Oh—this kid was crying," she explains. "He said he couldn't find his mother."
The teen kneels beside the child.
A soft purple glow forms around his hand.
In an instant, the magic reshapes itself—transforming into a colorful lollipop.
"Here," he says gently, offering it to the child.
"It's tasty. I think you'll like it."
The child's sobbing fades, curiosity replacing fear.
Moments later, a frantic woman appears, searching desperately.
"M-Mom!" the child cries, running toward her.
Tears stream down her face as she embraces her child, bowing repeatedly in gratitude toward the two teenagers before leaving.
The pink-haired girl smiles.
"Thank you for helping me," she says.
"It was nothing," the masked teen replies.
She hesitates, then asks, "What's your name?"
"My name's Raven," he answers. "You?"
"I'm Vibra. Nice to meet you."
For the first time, Raven sees her clearly—long silky pink hair, brilliant pink eyes, and an elegance reminiscent of moonlight. She wears a light pink hoodie paired with dark clothing underneath.
After a brief exchange, they part ways.
Unaware that fate has already bound them together.