When you lose something precious... something that made your world feel whole... something that gave your existence meaning... and you come to understand that no matter how much you scream, no matter how hard you reach, no matter how badly you wish... it will never return...
Then there is only one path left for those who refuse to disappear.
Vengeance.
Not justice.
Not peace.
Vengeance.
In a world that was never meant for the weak, there was no such thing as turning back. There was no peace waiting at the end of the road, no salvation for those who hesitated. Only the strong survived, and even they did so knowing that one day, something stronger would come for them. This was the law of existence, the truth that governed everything.
There was a time when the universe had only one place to watch over, one world that carried both beauty and brutality within it.
That world was known as Akaplini.
The Red Planet.
A world where the skies burned, where the ground drank blood, and where even hell itself seemed to rest beneath its surface. A place where warriors were not raised... but forged.
Here, mercy was a myth.
And power... was everything.
And above all... it demands more.
Akaplini was a world that felt as if it rested on the edge of hell. Fire and violence were not events, they were constants. Warriors were not born into comfort, they were raised in suffering and sharpened through survival. Mercy was something that existed only in stories, and even those stories rarely ended well.
The race that ruled this world was known as the Karosamu. A race feared above all others. Feared, respected, and unmatched in strength, they were beings who lived by a code that defined their existence.
Honor. Pride. Respect.
Words that sounded noble, yet in a world like this, they were carried through bloodshed and dominance rather than peace.
From the moment a Karosamu child was born, their path was already decided. They carried within them three advanced bloodline limits, three inheritances of power, abilities that revealed themselves as they grew, shaping who they would become. By the age of seven, they were no longer treated as children. They were trained, molded, and pushed into becoming warriors worthy of survival. Weakness was not corrected. It was erased.
And yet, despite everything, despite the endless cycle of violence and power, there existed someone who wished to change this world. Not by protecting it, not by saving it, but by destroying it completely so that something new could take its place.
Whether that would make him a savior or a monster did not matter. In the end, he would be known by only one name...
The Child of Ruin... the Ruinborn.
And so, we return to the past, to a moment buried beneath time, to witness the beginning of everything that was to come.
The rain fell without mercy. It did not pour gently, nor did it show any sign of stopping. It crashed down onto the earth as if the sky itself had been torn open, flooding the land below. Lightning split through the darkness in violent flashes, revealing brief glimpses of the world before it was swallowed again by shadow. Thunder followed, loud and heavy, echoing through the air like the beating of war drums.
In Akaplini, storms like this were never meaningless. They were warnings. Signs that something was about to happen. Something terrible.
A small figure stood alone within that storm, his body trembling as the cold rain soaked through him completely. The wind howled as it passed him, carrying with it something far worse than the storm itself. It was not just air that moved around him. It was pressure, something unseen yet suffocating, something that made his chest tighten without understanding why.
"Where... is everyone...?"
The voice that left his mouth was weak, barely able to hold itself together against the storm. He was only eight years old, yet the fear in his body was something far greater than a child should ever feel. This was Nemjiro.
He moved forward slowly, his small feet dragging through the mud as if the ground itself was trying to hold him back. Every step felt heavier than the last. The village was too quiet. There were no voices, no movement, nothing that should have been missing from a place that was once alive.
Then he saw it.
A pool of blood.
His body froze. His breathing stopped. The world around him seemed to disappear for a moment as his eyes locked onto it. Before he could even process what he was seeing, his foot stepped forward onto something soft.
Something warm.
Something that should not have been there.
Slowly, almost as if he was afraid of what he might find, he looked down.
It was a hand.
A small hand.
Trembling.
His eyes widened, his body beginning to shake uncontrollably as something inside him started to break apart.
He dropped to his knees without realizing it, his hands pressing into the wet ground as mist and smoke drifted across the area like a fading breath. Through it, he saw them. Eyes. Familiar eyes. Weak, flickering, struggling to remain open.
"Brother...?"
It was his little sister.
Her voice was fragile, barely holding on as her body trembled beneath the weight of something she could not overcome. Blood escaped her lips as she coughed, each movement weaker than the last. Nemjiro stared at her, his mind completely empty, unable to form words, unable to understand what was happening in front of him.
"If... you have time..."
She forced a smile, small and weak, yet filled with something he could not comprehend.
"Please... run..."
Those were the last words she would ever say.
The world around him lost its sound. The storm, the thunder, everything faded into nothing as if existence itself had stepped back. What remained was silence, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on him from all sides.
As the smoke slowly cleared, the truth revealed itself fully.
Bodies.
Everywhere.
His family lay before him, side by side, their hands connected as if they had tried to hold onto each other in their final moments. There was no movement, no breath, no life left within them.
Nemjiro's mouth opened, but no sound came out. His vision blurred as tears filled his eyes, his body trembling as he reached forward. His hands touched them, feeling the warmth that was slowly fading away, feeling something that should have still been alive.
Blood covered his hands.
Without thinking, he brought it to his face, smearing it across his skin as if trying to understand it, as if trying to wake himself from a nightmare that refused to end.
"No..."
His voice broke.
"No... no..."
His entire body shook violently, his chest tightening as something unbearable filled it.
"Why...?"
The word escaped him like a plea, like a cry directed at something that would never answer.
"WHY...?!"
His scream tore through the storm, raw and broken, carrying everything he had left within him.
Then, suddenly, the air changed.
It became heavier.
Colder.
Something was there.
Nemjiro slowly lifted his head, his eyes filled with tears and disbelief as he looked forward.
A man stood before him.
Long black hair moved with the wind like a storm of its own. One eye glowed red beneath the shadows, sharp and unnatural. His white cloak hung loosely from his body, and from it, three skulls dangled, swaying slightly as if they were part of him.
Morunar.
"Oh my... oh my..."
His voice was calm, almost amused, as if what lay before him was nothing more than a trivial scene.
"Stop crying. People die every day."
Nemjiro's body trembled violently, fear gripping him tightly, yet something else began to grow within him. Something darker. Something that refused to stay buried.
"Why...?"
His voice was barely audible, yet it carried everything he had left.
Morunar did not answer. He simply looked up at the sky, as if the question did not matter, as if Nemjiro himself did not matter.
Something inside the boy snapped.
"I said... WHY?!"
Morunar slowly looked back at him, a faint smirk forming on his face.
"Nothing really."
The words fell so lightly, so casually, that for a moment, Nemjiro could not understand them.
"Nothing...?"
"I was just playing with them."
The world shattered.
"DON'T SCREW WITH ME!"
Nemjiro's voice erupted as he pointed a blood-covered hand toward him, his entire body shaking with rage and pain.
"YOU MONSTER!"
Morunar stepped forward slowly, his presence alone enough to suffocate the space between them.
"Careful, boy."
His voice lowered, losing its amusement.
"Watch how you speak."
"I SAID WHY DID YOU KILL THEM?!"
Morunar raised a finger, pointing directly at Nemjiro.
"They didn't want to play."
He paused, and smiled.
"So... I stopped."
Silence filled the space between them once more. Something burned inside Nemjiro's chest.
Something violent.
Something unstoppable.
"I'LL KILL YOU!"
Morunar laughed quietly.
Softly.
Amused.
"Kill me...?"
Spreading his arms as if welcoming the threat.
"Then hate me." His voice sharpened.
"Curse me. Live with that anger."
His gaze sharpened, piercing straight through Nemjiro, locked onto his soul.
"Run. Cling to life. And one day... come find me."
A small smile formed.
"If you can."
Nemjiro stood there, frozen, his tears falling endlessly as his world lay broken around him. His entire world... gone.
And above them...
High above the storm, a figure moved at an incredible speed, moving faster than lightning itself, cutting through the sky like a flash of light. His white hair trailed behind him as his eyes focused forward, filled with urgency. Dark eyes.
A presence that rivaled even Morunar.
Daichi.
"Please..."
His thoughts echoed in silence, and screamed into the storm.
"Let me make it in time..."
But fate had already made its decision.
—
Thank you for reading Chapter 1 of GODSCAR: Ruinborn.
This is where everything begins. The night that broke Nemjiro... and the path that will shape what he becomes.
I appreciate every single one of you for taking the time to read. Your support, thoughts, and feedback truly mean a lot to me as I continue building this world.
Let me know what you think so far. What moment stood out to you the most?
More is coming.