**Prologue**

In ages long past, the continent upon which we now dwell was one single land, where humans and the Elemental Incarnates lived together in peace. But as time wore on, greed crept into every heart. Humans longed to possess supernatural power, while the Elemental Incarnates coveted the Heart Cores of mankind—cores resembling crystal, lodged within the human heart—seeking to grow ever stronger by claiming them.

A long war ignited, raging for decades, its fires never once dying down. Then, in a decisive moment, a great leader intervened to end the devastation—and what followed, no one could have foreseen: the vast continent split apart into two distant islands.

Humans settled upon one island, and the Elemental Incarnates upon the other. Yet despite the distance between them, the enmity never truly ended. The humans resolved to seek out the Elemental Sigils to defend themselves, but they found only two: the Fire Sigil and the Water Sigil. The rest had been stolen long ago, and now lay imprisoned upon the island of the Elemental Incarnates, guarded with all their might.

And from here... our journey begins.

---

Chapter One: A Shattered Legacy and the First Drop

In the heart of an island that had been split apart centuries before, within a house encircled by a still and silent pond, our hero Kaelon lay deep in peaceful slumber. But this tranquility was not destined to last; for as the first threads of sunlight broke upon the horizon, his aged grandfather's footsteps echoed into the room, heralding the start of a new day.

The grandfather began rousing Kaelon, and the boy did nothing but wake with a groan, his voice thick with sleep:

"What time is it, Grandfather?"

The grandfather answered, his tone firm and decisive:

"Half past five in the morning."

Kaelon's grumbling only grew louder as he exclaimed in protest:

"And why must I wake at such an hour?!"

The grandfather replied, his features set with seriousness:

"It is time for training. The heir to the Water Lord must not be so lazy! I have lived seventy-eight years, and I no longer have much time left to me."

Kaelon sighed and said:

"Very well, Grandfather. I'll get up."

Kaelon rose and made his way to the washroom. As he looked into the mirror, his distinctive features stared back at him—eyes of a cold, frost-blue hue, and hair that flowed in pale blue like the restless waves of the sea. He washed his face and brushed his teeth quickly, then strode with confident steps toward the training grounds, where he found his grandfather already waiting.

Kaelon said as he fastened his training belt:

"Here I am, Grandfather."

The old man looked upon him with a gaze of pride and said:

"Two years ago, you were so weak you could barely lift a sword. But today, you've grown stronger, and you've mastered the many forms of the Water Droplet combat style. So... take up this sword and face me! If you defeat me today, you shall receive half of the Water Sigil."

Kaelon raised his brows in astonishment and asked:

"Why only half? And where is the other half?"

The grandfather answered, his gaze drifting toward the horizon:

"Don't be so hasty... Five hundred years ago, when one of our ancestors retrieved the Sigil from the Guardian's Cave, he found it split in two. He had just grasped the first piece, and before he could reach for the other, a sudden and overwhelming flood of water surged forth, sweeping him entirely out of the cave, and sealing the tunnel behind him with a colossal wall of stone—impenetrable, unbreakable."

Kaelon's eyes widened, and he asked eagerly:

"And where does this tunnel lie now, Grandfather?"

The grandfather replied, his words shrouded in mystery:

"It is said that the cave lies right here, beneath this very house, sealed behind that wall of stone—yet we have never been able to find it. Now... enough questions! Take up your wooden sword and ready yourself!"

Both took their fighting stances. Suddenly, the grandfather launched a lightning-fast assault, so swift that he vanished entirely from Kaelon's sight! In the blink of an eye, the old man appeared behind his grandson, sword poised at his head, ready to end the duel with a single strike.

But Kaelon, thanks to his rigorous training, spun around with the speed of lightning, raising his sword to guard his neck and successfully blocking the strike. He then pivoted and launched a powerful counter-attack aimed at his grandfather's free arm—the one not holding the sword. The grandfather dodged with astonishing grace, and in a flash, brought his blade down with all his strength toward Kaelon's sword.

In that instant, Kaelon sensed the danger; he knew this strike would cost him the duel, just as it always had before—he remembered how his grandfather's swift, crushing blow had sent him flying time and again. Kaelon pleaded within himself: *I need greater power and speed!*

A wild idea struck him, and he resolved to use his own technique. For a fleeting moment he wondered: *Will this form even work without possessing the Sigil?*—but he refused to give up. He gathered his energy and cried out with all his might:

"Water Assault... The First Drop: Aqua Collision!"

It was a technique of blinding speed, delivering a sudden, lightning-fast strike from whatever angle the opponent stood. When the two wooden swords collided with terrifying force, a thunderous crack rang out—Kaelon's wooden sword shattered, its splinters scattering through the air. The form had simply been too heavy a burden for an ordinary sword to bear, without an iron blade and without the power of the Water Sigil behind it.

Kaelon lowered his head in sorrow, staring at the broken hilt in his hand, and said:

"I've failed... I've lost. Even my sword is broken."

But contrary to what he expected, a warm smile—brimming with pride and affection—spread across his grandfather's face. He looked at his grandson and said:

"Well done, my boy... and now, truly... you have succeeded!"

---

Chapter 2: A Flare of Fire and a Drop of Water

As Kaelon stared in sorrow at the broken hilt of his sword, the marks of defeat etched plainly across his face, his grandfather's warm words reached his ears:

"You struck the mark, my boy... and you shattered all my doubts. You have succeeded!"

Kaelon's eyes widened in astonishment, and he asked, the sorrow still choking his voice:

"What do you mean, Grandfather? How have I succeeded, when it was my sword that broke, and I who lost the duel?"

The grandfather let out a dignified laugh, brimming with pride, and said:

"You gathered every ounce of your strength and unleashed a pure Water Assault, even though you do not yet possess the Water Sigil! And more important still—you never once gave up. That was the only way you could have won. Had it been an ordinary strike, I would have blocked it with ease... but you caught me off guard with a power I never expected! Believe me, had we been fighting with real iron blades, you would have shattered my sword and brought me to utter defeat."

The grandfather continued, his eyes shining:

"And now, I shall keep my promise to you... Tomorrow morning, you shall receive this half of the Water Sigil."

A broad smile spread across Kaelon's lips, and joy surged through his veins as he said gratefully:

"Thank you, Grandfather! I promise I will live up to your trust, and I will bear this great responsibility, and I swear I will always protect the weak."

The grandfather patted his shoulder tenderly and said:

"I have not the slightest doubt of that, my boy... Now, ready yourself and go to the village—we need to buy some food."

Kaelon nodded eagerly:

"Yes, Grandfather!"

The boy moved lightly and briskly toward the door, pulled on his shoes in a hurry, then turned and called out:

"I'm off now!"—before dashing out and closing the door behind him.

The moment Kaelon's feet stepped beyond the house, the grandfather's features changed entirely. He clenched his fist, and a terrifying aura surged through his body, revealing his true identity as the Water Lord. In that instant, the sigil etched upon his hand blazed with a brilliant blue light, and from it rose a sword of pure water, settling firmly into his grasp.

The grandfather murmured to himself in a low voice:

"I must go check on the state of the city first... and discuss the matter of my retirement with Himaru, the current Fire Sigil Wielder."

In the blink of an eye, the grandfather vanished from where he stood with blinding speed, leaving behind only a few droplets of water that evaporated into the air.

Meanwhile, Kaelon was making his way toward the village when, suddenly, the blood froze in his veins at the sight of a horrifying scene; one of the Elemental Incarnates, an Ice wielder, was launching a savage assault upon humans! The Incarnate raised its blade of ice, intent on ending the life of a village girl who had collapsed in terror, utterly helpless.

But in the span of a heartbeat—before the icy blade could reach her throat—a blazing sword of fire suddenly tore through the Incarnate's back, its glowing tip erupting from its stomach! The creature had no time even to scream, for the fiery blade had completely obliterated its Heart Core, and its frozen body began to melt and dissolve at terrifying speed.

The flaming sword whirled back through the air, returning to settle in the hand of its owner... Himaru, the current Fire Sigil Wielder.

He was a young man of about twenty, of ordinary build, yet his presence was overwhelming. He bore strange hair that flowed black from his scalp, ending in tips of a deep, burning red, like glowing embers. Himaru stood gazing with utter contempt at the melting remains of the Elemental Incarnate, and said in a cold tone:

"Pathetic. What a weak, pitiful creature."

While Kaelon watched this violent scene from afar in shock, a sudden, splitting headache struck him, and his mind was flooded with a hazy image—a flash of strange, unfamiliar memories! In that memory, he saw himself wielding an Ice Sigil, using it in cold blood to kill one of the Elemental Incarnates, a wielder of the Crystal Element.

Kaelon stumbled back a step, clutching his head as he gasped in bewilderment, and whispered to himself in fear:

"What is this strange memory?! I am certain—absolutely certain—that this has never happened to me in my life... so where could it have come from?!"

---

Chapter Three: A Phantom of the Past and a Great Burden

As Kaelon struggled against the sharp headache that had overtaken him following the first vision, the image of the Ice wielder had barely begun to fade when another flash of memory crashed into his mind—deeper and far more terrifying than the last.

He saw himself standing upon a barren wasteland, gathering every ounce of strength he possessed to unleash his most powerful Ice technique against one of the Elemental Incarnates. That opponent had a presence so dreadful it sent chills through the bone; his body resembled that of a man in his thirties, but his eyes were two pits torn straight from hell—his pupils as black as the deepest night, while the whites of his eyes burned with a deep, blood-red glow. This Incarnate carried no sword at all; instead, a thick, suffocating darkness radiated from his body, writhing and shifting as though it were alive. The instant Kaelon launched his attack, the man stepped forward with utter coldness and caught the strike with his bare hand, completely unharmed! In the blink of an eye, that dense darkness spread outward, closing in around Kaelon's body, crushing him with a force so terrible it shattered the bones of both present and past at once—until he felt his Heart Core itself break apart entirely.

"Ahh!..."

Kaelon jolted awake from the grip of these terrifying thoughts and memories, gasping for breath. He looked around but found no trace of Himaru, who had already left the scene in haste. The boy shook the remnants of terror from his body and began walking, his steps unsteady, toward the village market to buy the food his grandfather had asked for. His mind churned with questions and the shock of that memory, but he took deep breaths, trying to convince himself:

"Calm down, Kaelon... it must just be some strange dream, or hallucinations brought on by lack of sleep and waking too early... yes, it couldn't possibly be anything else."

Meanwhile, in another scene far from the bustle of the market—high atop one of the elevated rooftops overlooking the city—a conversation was unfolding behind the veil of secrecy.

The grandfather, Kaizu, the Water Lord, stood with his usual dignity before the young Himaru, discussing with him a fateful decision: his wish to retire and pass on his sigil.

Himaru's eyes widened in disbelief, his tone laced with disapproval as he said:

"Lord Kaizu? Are you truly serious about this? We are in desperate need of your experience and wisdom to protect our people! In these dangerous times, no one can fill the void you would leave, or take your place as the Water Lord."

Kaizu turned to face him, a calm smile—carrying the wisdom of long years—spreading across his face, and said in a low voice:

"You remind me so much of myself, Himaru... When your grandfather retired in his time, I stood exactly where you stand now, saying those very same words to him. But the train of life does not stop for anyone, and I now have a successor for the Water Sigil. You must all help guide him along the path ahead."

Himaru asked, gripped by both curiosity and unease at once:

"A successor? And who is this person you deem worthy of bearing a sigil of such magnitude?"

The grandfather replied, his eyes gazing toward the horizon:

"It is my grandson... Kaelon. He will receive the sigil from me tomorrow morning, and become the new Water Lord."

Himaru's brow furrowed, his tone shifting to one of seriousness mixed with fear:

"And what of you? And what of him?! Have you no fear for him, old man? Are you not afraid he might be killed on the battlefield, at such a young age?"

Kaizu answered with steady confidence:

"I will be his shadow... I will train him and guide him until the very last breath of my life. And do not forget, Himaru—most of the Elemental Incarnates who dare to attack the island of humans are weak ones, possessing only a single Heart Core, easily destroyed with an iron blade. They come to us alone, driven by greed, seeking to grow stronger by killing humans."

The grandfather continued, his tone turning instructive:

"They seek that small jewel-like fragment lodged within the human heart—the one we call the Human Heart Core. By absorbing it, they grow stronger, gaining an additional Heart Core for themselves, which gives them a far greater chance of survival even if their original core is destroyed in battle. Did you know, Himaru... that this hidden core within human bodies bears a striking resemblance to the Heart Core found within the bodies of the Incarnates themselves?"

Himaru cut him off with a sharp look, anger and contempt plain upon his face:

"And even if humans possess a core resembling theirs, humans die from the simplest of attacks! Their bodies are frail, weak, and they cannot control the elements by instinct... unlike the Incarnates, who are far superior in physical strength—their bodies are hard as stone and nearly impossible to pierce, and they can only be killed by destroying their Heart Core, not to mention their absolute mastery over the elements!"

He stepped closer to the old man and continued, his voice burning with anger:

"Do you truly believe—with your own eyes—that humans are better than the Incarnates?!"

Kaizu answered calmly, his confidence unshaken:

"Humans are not physically stronger, that is true... but at least, they possess pure feelings. They have compassion, sorrow, and love. And that is the true strength that those monsters lack."

Himaru let out a bitter, mocking laugh, his eyes flickering with a red glow:

"Feelings? Those feelings do not protect them, Lord Kaizu—quite the opposite. They weaken them, and make them easy prey! My father used to say the very same thing you're saying now... and how did that end? He died protecting one of the village families! He could have fled and saved himself, but he fought to his very last breath to protect people he didn't even know. He came home with mortal wounds, and lived for only three more hours before he passed away."

Himaru turned his face away, continuing, his voice choking with grief:

"Before he died, he warned me fiercely never to use the Fire Sigil. He told me my body was too weak to bear its heat, that I was not fit to be a Fire wielder... unlike my younger sister, who possessed every quality needed to absorb the sigil. He asked me to pass it on to her, so that she would be the one to fight... but I didn't! I used the sigil myself and never gave it to her. I wanted to protect her, to keep her far away from this hell! And because I cannot control fire easily, and because Fire techniques drain my energy and body at a terrifying rate, I was forced to learn swordsmanship and rely on the blade to make up for what I lack... I did not want to throw this heavy, dreadful burden onto my little sister's shoulders. And yet you—you want to so simply throw it onto your little grandson?!"

Himaru turned, ready to leave, casting one final, cold glance back at Kaizu, and said:

"At your age, you will never understand this... As a grandfather, you should be the one protecting your grandson—you should be the one fighting to the death to keep him far away from this—not handing him something that could kill him at any moment."

Himaru vanished from the place in haste, leaving the old man Kaizu standing alone beneath the rays of the sun, pondering the young man's words, heavy with bitterness.

But it was not only the wind that watched the old man...

For behind a thick veil of motionless shadows in the corner of the abandoned rooftop, a dark specter stirred—unseen by anyone. From the heart of that pitch-black darkness, two black eyes emerged, their whites split by a terrifying, blood-red hue... It was the very same figure Kaelon had recalled in his nightmare!

He stood watching Kaizu with an overwhelming presence that reeked of death, a wicked smile spreading across his lips. Then he whispered, his voice like the hiss of serpents:

"None of you remain... You will all die... today!"

The shadows suddenly contracted, and that dreadful form vanished as though it had never been—leaving behind only the first Whispers of a bloody battle that would change the fate of the island of humans forever.

---