After the great explosion birthed the universe, balance was born from chaos. From the remnants of matter, the Eighteen Elements of Life were formed. Yet among them, only one was known as the Exalted Element—the power most coveted by all living beings: the Noble Element of Earth.
The world sought it from every corner. They were willing to burn the earth and sacrifice souls just to obtain it.
I don't know exactly when it all began—when this world first cracked beneath the weight of lies, and truth was buried by the hands of power. But one thing I do know for certain: the mystery that once dwelled quietly in the shadows is now beginning to unveil itself. And it all started… with him.
His name was Hizuriyami. I never knew him personally, only through fragments of stories—whispers that drifted between the cracks of time and dimensions. He wasn't a hero from a tale, nor a god to be worshipped. He was just a blacksmith—simple, with long white hair and brown eyes that carried shadows.
But like all truths long hidden, his life was anything but simple.
"Why aren't you at the forge today, Hizuriyami?" one of his fellow workers once asked, finding him sitting alone in a wide, empty field.
He didn't answer. He simply gazed at the sky—vast, blue, and endless. The wind brushed against his face, tousling his messy hair. He looked like someone waiting for something… or someone.
"There's no point in working in a world that chains the soul," he murmured softly, barely audible.
I can picture that moment vividly, as if I'd witnessed it myself. Hizuriyami closed his eyes. And then it happened—a flash of green, a light so radiant it cut through the sky. It wasn't lightning, nor fire. It was alive… and it chose him.
"What is this…?" he whispered, his voice catching, just before his body was engulfed in that green light—piercing through skin, through bone, through soul.
When the light faded, his body lay motionless on the ground. Still. As if dead.
But he wasn't dead.
Moments later, he awoke—his breath ragged, his eyes wide.
"Why… does my body feel… empty, yet full?" he whispered, as if speaking to something inside himself.
The change couldn't be seen from the outside. The powerful didn't notice a thing. How could they? They understood only chains and whips—not the kind of miracle that ignites fire within someone's spirit.
But Hizuriyami knew. And he didn't forget. He knew that since childhood, a spark had lived inside him—a spark that had long been suppressed, silenced, tamed. Now, that spark had awakened again, not as rage… but as a vow.
"I will change this world," he said to himself.
And I… I believe him.
Because from that day on, everything changed.
And now I know: the key to it all—the origin of both destruction and hope—lies with Hizuriyami.