The sun hung low over the horizon, soaked in blood-red light.
As Sunny stepped into Kanah Village, an eerie calm settled over him. The breeze didn't rustle the leaves. The birds had gone silent. It was beautiful—but the kind of beauty that came right before something terrible.
He had healed recently, barely recovered from a brutal fight, and had planned to rest… But something had called him here. A whisper in the back of his mind. A dream. A flicker of fate.
The village itself looked normal. Too normal. White brick homes, a cobblestone square, clean streets. But the air… it was too clean, the smiles too practiced. He felt like a guest at a funeral that hadn't happened yet.
And then he met him.
At the highest point of the village stood a manor—sleek, elegant, out of place like a chessboard on a battlefield. And on its steps, under the dying sun, stood a boy.
German Sparow.
He was only fourteen, but looked as though he had stepped out of a painting—silver hair, pale skin, eyes like a still lake under moonlight. His uniform was flawless. His posture perfect. And when he smiled…
It was wrong. Not threatening. Not fake. Just… too controlled.
> "You must be Sunny," he said, voice gentle as falling snow. "I've been expecting you."
Sunny tensed. He had never met this boy.
> "And you are?"
> "A friend," German replied, turning. "Or maybe something else. You'll decide."
Sunny followed him into the manor. Every room was spotless. Paintings of celestial events, strange sigils, diagrams of constellations—German was no ordinary child. This place wasn't a home. It was a mind—organized, strategic, prepared for war.
In a quiet room lit only by a hanging glass lamp, German finally turned to face him.
> "You're not from here. Neither am I. But we were always meant to meet."
Sunny frowned. "Why do I feel like I'm being tested?"
German smiled, sitting with elegance far beyond his years.
> "Because you are. We all are. By the world, by time, by the star."
He leaned forward, his tone shifting—still soft, but cutting now. Sharper.
> "You believe in hope, don't you? In saving people. That's cute."
Sunny narrowed his eyes. "And what do you believe in?"
German's smile faded—just slightly.
> "I believe in outcomes. In control. Emotion is a leash. Compassion is a weakness sold as virtue. The world doesn't care who's good or bad. Only who's useful."
> "I've studied a thousand lives. Kind men die. Dreamers fall. Only the cold survive."
Sunny stepped back slightly. His instincts screamed.
> "You speak like someone who's seen too much for his age."
German stood, hands behind his back.
> "I was born ahead of my time. People call it genius. I call it clarity."
He walked past Sunny, pausing at the window.
> "Tell me, Sunny… when the dying star burns the world, will you cry for it?"
"Or will you burn with it?"
The candle in the room flickered—then died.
In the darkness, Sunny finally understood.
This wasn't just a prodigy. Not just a mastermind.
This was the beginning of something dangerous.
And German Sparow…
He wasn't just planning the end.
He was orchestrating it.