Confronted by the crushing, bone-deep psychological pressure radiating from the two leaders of the Crusade Division, Kento did not give an inch.
Without uttering a single redundant word, he decisively dropped to his knees, slamming onto the cold stone floor of the subterranean vault.
The eyes of the fourteen-year-old boy held not a single flicker of hesitation as he stared directly up at Priest Malachi and Mother Superior Agatha.
He understood with absolute clarity that fear was nothing but garbage that rendered humans weak.
Right now, the burning desire permeating his entire being was the acquisition of raw power to survive and seize absolute mastery over his own destiny.
Kento took a deep, stabilizing breath, his voice ringing out with ironclad resolve, echoing against the four stone walls:
— “Father…
and Mother Superior.
I know that daring to peer through the blood-soaked reality hidden beneath Father’s black cassock and Mother’s pure veil is a capital crime.
Those who know too much rarely live long; I fully comprehend this.
But I do not stand here tonight to threaten you, nor do I care for mortal weapons or selfish, safe protection.”
The young boy emphasized every single syllable, the sheer killing intent of his pure white Sophion aura erupting outward:
— “The sole thing I require from you both is the source of the very darkness that forged who you are today!
I beg Father for the razor-sharp decisiveness to swing a blade without caring for the chains of karma, and I beg Mother for the ultimate cruelty to strangle all internal weakness without a shred of remorse.
Do not read holy scriptures for me anymore…
I implore you both, implant those two things directly into my soul!”
Baptism in the Dark
The underground vault instantly fell into a heavy, astonished gridlock.
Both Malachi and Agatha stood frozen, thoroughly stunned by the ruthless, dark ambition bleeding from the child kneeling before them.
Standing before two of the Church’s premier executioners, he wasn’t begging for his life—he was begging to become a butcher just like them.
Malachi narrowed his eyes, closely observing the pure white Sophion shroud churning violently around Kento’s frame.
That white hue held no trace of holy sanctity; it was the stark color of a snow-clad blade—piercingly cold and utterly merciless.
Judging by both natural genius and psychological conditioning, this child possessed every prerequisite to be ground and forged into the most unyielding shield, a lethal sword primed to purge any heretic.
— “Fine!” Malachi slowly lowered his massive runic greatsword, his eyes betraying a rare glimmer of profound admiration.
“I accept your plea, purely for the absolute mettle you have displayed.”
The Priest took a step forward, the hem of his black trench coat swaying slightly:
— “In terms of raw capability and sheer willpower, you are already qualified to step into the ranks of the Crusade Division.
Yet, I will not do that.
I refuse to have you shackled by the chains of the Supreme Church.”
Mother Superior Agatha stepped forward as well, her frozen countenance suddenly twisting into an exceptionally eerie, captivating smile:
then the Priest and I shall thoroughly satisfy your hunger, Kento!
We will forge you into the most terrifying monster imaginable.”
Both Malachi and Agatha raised their voices in a low, resonant unison, delivering a chilling coronation in the dark:
— “And from this exact split-second onward, your Alias shall be…
White Oni!”
CLANG…
CREAK…
Malachi stepped backward, personally throwing the heavy iron door shut, completely erasing the last residual strands of feeble light from the surface world.
Amidst the absolute darkness of that fateful night, the hellish training of the “White Oni” officially commenced.
The Parallel Races
From that night onward, whenever the clock struck late and all living things succumbed to deep slumber, Kento would silently slip down into the subterranean vault.
Under the brutal, utterly uncompromising tutelage of the two elite assassins, the young boy didn’t merely hone his combat techniques to a state of transcendental perfection; he systematically learned to extinguish every single redundant emotion.
The vulnerable, fragile Kento of the past began his total metamorphosis right here.
While Kento was covertly staining his soul pitch-black beneath the earth, over in the surface world, Shin and Ling Mo created a fiercely contested, neck-and-neck rivalry at Sensei Asuka Ren’s dojo.
The progression of the two young prodigies advanced at a dizzying velocity with each passing day.
Sensei Ren didn’t just exhaustively instruct them in supreme practical combat mechanics; he specifically guided them in micro-controlling Sophion energy, allowing their internal currents to circulate flawlessly without a single drop of wasted expenditure.
The priceless, guarded techniques of his style were transmitted word-for-word, without a single omission, to his two premier disciples.
On another front, young Loona, weaponized with her genius intellect and a monumental passion for raw data, never ceased her intellectual consumption.
By now, the colossal shelves within the convent’s library contained absolutely no books left unread by her.
Loona’s brain had transformed into a living library in the truest sense, archiving the entirety of scientific theory, mechanics, and structural engineering available within the sanctuary.
Despite possessing such transcendent intellect, Loona preserved her pristine innocence whenever she was by the side of her adoptive older sister, Sister Clara.
The two sisters routinely farmed together, tended to the vegetable patch, and played joyfully with the orphans.
These idyllic, simple moments were the sole anchor keeping the young girl’s soul unstained by the horrific undercurrents of the convent.
The Dawn of a New Epoch
Time flew like a passing shadow, quietly slipping away for four long, grueling years.
Precisely as Priest Malachi had prophesied four years prior, the blood-soaked Gen-Primal era—defined by chaotic slaughter and frantic genocides—finally reached its absolute conclusion following the sweeping, merciless purge executed by King Kusanagi Takeru.
However, absolute peace failed to materialize.
A new generation and a terrifyingly dominant world order immediately rose to govern, far more calculated and systemic in its brutality.
It was designated as: THE GEN-SYNDICATE ERA OF CAPITAL POWER.
This new epoch was no longer defined by unorganized, chaotic massacres; it was the absolute, total domination of wealth, authority, technology, and dark corporate conglomerates (Syndicates).
Those who commanded vast fortunes and refined Sophion energy were the absolute masters of the law.
Coinciding with the shifting tides of the era, the children of yesterday had matured into young adults standing on the precipice of their twenties:
—Shin (20 years old) & Ling Mo (20 years old): Having officially crossed into true adulthood, their physiques were exceptionally robust, their shoulders broad and unyielding, and their eyes carried the deep weight of lived experience. Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping dot com.
This was the definitive age where they had to spread their wings, stepping out into the boundless outer world to carve out their own paths.
—Kento (18 years old): No longer the fourteen-year-old crybaby of the past.
Having endured four years of agonizing refinement within the blood-hell of the Crusade Division, Kento now radiated a stoic, chillingly decisive demeanor.
His gaze was razor-sharp, harboring the detached, merciless aura of a true Oni ready to shatter his adversaries.
—Loona (17 years old): Thoroughly transformed into an exceptionally beautiful young woman, her figure full and elegant, exuding an undeniable aura of profound brilliance and magnetic charisma.
One evening, the four companions managed to sneak past the perimeter walls of the convent.
They sat side-by-side atop a wind-swept hill, silently observing the perfectly spherical full moon illuminating the heavens, treasuring a rare moment of absolute tranquility before each was forced to plunge into the tempest of the new era.
Shadows of Departure
Simultaneously, deep within the subterranean vault heavy with the scent of refined steel, Priest Malachi and Mother Superior Agatha stood beside a massive tactical map table, preparing for an imminent departure.
Malachi gazed up at the emblem of the Church engraved upon the stone wall, speaking in a low, gravelly register:
— “The Primal era has drawn to a close…
The world of Capital Power has officially commenced its purges.
It is time for us to await the final directive from supreme command, Agatha.”
Agatha gently ran her fingers over the hilt of the dagger resting at her waist, her eyes betraying a mixture of profound exhaustion and ironclad resolve:
— “Twenty years…
We have been rooted in this desolate, backwater convent for twenty long years.
It isn’t just you and I who desire to leave; it is simply time for us to move on.
A single encrypted order is all that remains to conclude this sanctuary guardianship.”
Malachi nodded subtly, the image of his ruthless, dark disciple instantly materializing in his mind:
— “Kento…
after four years of grueling hell under our tutelage, the boy has completely shed his past.
He no longer retains a single shred of vulnerability.
His current mindset…
is truly terrifying.”
Agatha’s lips curled into a faint, prideful smirk, her eyes glinting with satisfaction:
— “Is that not the exact reality he chose for himself?
I am absolutely certain that the moment he steps out into the wider Gen-Syndicate world, that boy will become a force powerful enough to completely upend heaven and earth.”
Malachi looked toward the exit of the vault, letting out a soft, inscrutable sigh:
— “Who can truly say…
The future is a mystery, so let us allow time to answer all things.”
END OF CHAPTER 17