Astral The Beginning

5 Years Ago. 

In the dead of night, Lyon Village lay cloaked in a thick silence broken only by the soft lapping of the nearby lake, as though nature held its breath. Anami and Asuma had just shared a humble but warm meal with their grandfather Guyu, laughing at her daring tactics and teasing her for the traps she'd set in an attempt to beat him. The moon hung bright and full, casting silvery light through the trees, and all seemed at peace.

Suddenly, a frantic banging shattered the calm. A villager staggered into Guyu's home, his face pale, clothes torn, and voice trembling. "The village... it's burning! We're under attack!"

In an instant, laughter was forgotten, and the familiar world became alien, painted in flickering reds and blacks. Guyu stood, his hand clenching around the worn woodcutter's axe that still rested by the doorway. "Stay here," he ordered, though Anami bristled at the command.

"No, Grandpa, let me help!" she protested, but Guyu's gaze softened, then hardened, as he met her fiery eyes.

"Not this time, Anami," he said firmly. "Protect each other. I'll return.

"With that, he left, vanishing into the orange glow of the village engulfed in flames.

Outside, Guyu fought as if possessed. He moved through the attackers with an old warrior's rage, hacking and slashing as the fire spread around him. As the smell of smoke and the sharp tang of blood filled the air, a figure cloaked in darkness watched from above, eyes glinting with satisfaction.

"That's him. The great Guyu. The hero of legend," the figure muttered with a sneer. His aide, Jurmon, a hulking man with piercing eyes, leaned closer.

"We've yet to find the girl," Jurmon reported the barest glint of impatience in his tone.

"Take your time," the cloaked man, Astir, responded with casual malice. "In the meantime, I'll play with the old man.

"Astir landed with a crash that echoed through the village, his descent sending a shockwave through the burning village.

Guyu looked up, eyes narrowing at the figure who approached with a chilling calm. "You—who are you?" Guyu growled, his grip tightening on his axe.

Astir's mouth twisted into a smirk. "Ah, the great hero himself, drenched in blood yet eager for more. Tell me, does your rage burn hot enough to recognize this?" Astir flung something small and round to the ground before Guyu, the village going silent as Guyu's heart froze.

It was his son's head.

In seconds, Guyu's resolve shifted from rage to raw, cold vengeance. His old eyes locked onto Astir with an intensity that could burn through the stone. Before Astir could react, Guyu lunged, hurling the man through the burning buildings. But Astir, an expert in the arcane arts, countered Guyu's attacks with effortless grace, conjuring a spear of water from the nearby lake to extinguish Guyu's flames.

The ground shook beneath their feet as the battle escalated into a fierce clash of fire and water. Each strike of Guyu's burning palm techniques was met with Astir's counters, blows resonating with the screams of the fleeing villagers. But despite Guyu's strength, each exchange left him weaker, and older.

"You're not the warrior you once were, Guyu," Astir sneered, landing a brutal punch to Guyu's ribs. "Now, you're nothing more than a shadow, barely capable of protecting yourself, let alone your kin.

"Guyu snarled, spitting blood in Astir's face. "If my son's sacrifice was the price of your arrogance, then you, too, will burn." With a last, desperate roar, he gathered the essence of his forbidden Fire God technique, his one remaining hand blazing with an intense, all-consuming flame. "Fire magic: Fire God Palm!"

A massive wave of fire roared from his palm, wiping out the attackers nearby and leaving the earth scarred with the charred imprint of his final attack. When the fire cleared, Astar lay defeated, a gaping hole in his torso.

With a weary sigh, Guyu turned toward home, blood seeping from his wounds, strength all but gone.

Back at the house, Anami and Asuma stood tense, the terror and uncertainty in their eyes amplified as they heard the sounds of battle drifting through the smoke-filled air.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and Guyu stumbled in, bruised and bloodied, his usual steady gaze clouded with pain. "Grandfather!" they cried, rushing to support him.

Anami's heart hammered in her chest as she clutched his arm. "Grandpa, who did this? What happened?" she whispered, her voice laced with terror.

He tried to answer, to reassure them, but his breath was labored. Before he could speak, a dark figure loomed in the doorway, eyes gleaming with cold malice. Jurmon had arrived.

"I see the great Guyu has indeed survived Astir," Jurmon said, a twisted smile on his lips as he strode forward, stepping over the fallen pieces of the home. "Pity it seems he's far too weak to protect his kin."

In an instant, Guyu hurled himself forward, only for Jurmon to catch his broken arm and drive a sword through his stomach, pinning him to the floor. The sound of Anami's scream split the night.

"Grandfather!" Asuma lunged, fists raised, but Jurmon easily tossed both him and Anami aside. Desperate, Asuma tried again, but with a flick of his wrist, Jurmon knocked him to the ground, leaving him barely conscious beside Guyu.

Anami struggled to her feet, defiant tears streaming down her cheeks as she faced Jurmon. "You—monster. You can take everything, but you won't take my grandfather!"

Jurmon regarded her with mild interest, then chuckled, his gaze piercing as he saw her spirit, the same spirit of the old hero. "Interesting... Lady Anami, you're coming with me. As for your old protector here," he glanced at the bleeding Guyu, "he can die knowing his bloodline is ours to command."

Anami tried to resist, her defiance still burning, but Jurmon's brutal strength was too much. With a swift motion, he knocked her unconscious and hoisted her over his shoulder, leaving Asuma barely able to lift his head to watch them disappear into the shadows.

As his vision dimmed, Asuma crawled to his grandfather's side, clutching his lifeless hand, his tears mixing with the blood-soaked ground as dawn broke over the ravaged village.

In the fading light, he murmured brokenly, "Grandfather, I'll get her back...I promise."

The promise lingered in the air, mingling with the smoke, a vow whispered to the wind.