Manga Story

🖤 PLANCHE 2 — Essayer de lire Âge d’Aris : 7–8 ans Style : manga noir et blanc, fantasy médiévale Ambiance : tension silencieuse, maladresse enfantine Nombre de cases : 6 🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Rue étroite de la grande ville. Murs en pierre couverts d’affiches écrites. Aris, enfant de 7–8 ans, marche lentement le long du mur. Aris (tenue) : haut type kimono simple, blanc à l’origine, très sale, trop grand manches trop longues pantalon large déchiré, trop long pieds nus, sales Il lève la tête vers les affiches, trop hautes pour lui. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (mur) Description visuelle : Une affiche abîmée, pleine de texte serré. Les lettres sont petites, complexes, irrégulières. Certaines parties sont déchirées ou effacées. Ambiance : Incompréhensible pour un enfant. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (Aris) Description visuelle : Aris se met sur la pointe des pieds pour lire. Son visage est concentré mais perdu. Bouche entrouverte, sourcils froncés. Texte (très petit, hésitant) : « m… a… » 🟦 CASE 4 — DÉTAIL (main) Description visuelle : Le doigt d’Aris suit une ligne de texte… puis glisse, se trompe, s’arrête au mauvais endroit. Ambiance : Échec immédiat, maladresse. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN MOYEN Description visuelle : Aris baisse la tête. Ses épaules retombent. Les affiches restent là, immobiles, au-dessus de lui. Ambiance : Frustration silencieuse, incompréhension. Texte : Aucun. 🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE Description visuelle : Aris s’éloigne du mur. Il est petit dans la rue, dos voûté. Les affiches sont derrière lui. Ambiance : Il n’a pas appris. Il essaiera encore. Texte : Aucun. 🔒 RAPPEL CANON (à ne plus changer) Aris 7–8 ans tenue kimono blanc sale, pantalon déchiré pieds nus aucune réussite, aucun progrès juste l’envie et l’échec

Create Your Own Manga

More Manga to Explore

Okay, so today started like any normal day, but I should’ve known something bad was about to happen. First off, I woke up late (again). My mom had to knock on my door at least 15 times before I actually opened my eyes. I think she was trying to wake up a sloth because I was moving that slowly. But the real problem wasn’t the time—it was the whole "getting out of bed" thing. My blanket was so comfy I almost became one with it.
After finally stumbling out of bed, I went to the bathroom. That’s when I realized my mistake: I didn’t check the toilet paper. The roll was empty. EMPTY! I swear, the bathroom was mocking me, with the empty roll staring me down like a villain in a superhero movie.
You know how there are always those three pieces of toilet paper left on the roll that no one can ever seem to use properly? Yeah, well, I thought I could manage it, but nope. It was like trying to write a letter with a pencil that’s too short to hold. Useless. So, I had to make a mad dash to the kitchen to grab a paper towel, looking like I was auditioning for the Olympics in the "running awkwardly with pants half on" category.
When I finally came out of the bathroom, I was greeted by my little brother, Sam, who was eating cereal like a monster. I mean, he was literally slurping it like he was trying to suck up a swimming pool. "What’s up, Darek? You look like you just saw a ghost," he said, which is hilarious coming from a kid who still wears dinosaur pajamas at age 9.
By the time I made it to the kitchen, my mom was in full “mom mode,” yelling about me being late again. "Why do I always have to remind you, Darek?" she sighed dramatically, as if I was the first teenager in history to ever run behind schedule. I tried to explain that my shoes had mysteriously disappeared, but she wasn’t buying it.
I’m pretty sure my dog, Muffin, ate them. She's a good dog, but she has no respect for footwear.
Anyway, after my mom finally let me off the hook, I thought I was in the clear. But then came the bus. The bus. I don’t know how, but I somehow managed to trip over the front step and faceplant in front of half the school. I swear, it was like I was in some kind of bad TV show where embarrassing things happen every five minutes.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, when I got to school, I realized that I’d forgotten my lunch. Again. So now, I had to survive on cafeteria mystery meat, which I’m pretty sure is made of recycled socks and disappointment.
But don’t worry, things get better. I’m pretty sure.

A 12-year-old boy named Champ wakes up in his small but tidy apartment bedroom in a futuristic city. Morning sunlight shines through the window. He has messy spiky black hair and expressive eyes. His mom calls from downstairs telling him breakfast is ready. He looks out the window at tall futuristic skyscrapers in the distance. He holds a glowing digital card that flashes “TODAY IS THE DAY.” He looks determined and excited. Shounen manga style, black and white, dramatic lighting, detailed backgrounds, dynamic panel composition, expressive emotions.

A young boy with blue hair and two eyes, one coloured blue and the other gold, is awoken by his younger sister in her middle school uniform. He wakes up groggy, all messed up, and his long hair covering his face. his foot is shown stepping unto his unkempt room foor

A wide establishing shot in manga style (black and white).

A modern magical academy campus seen from a distance. The building has futuristic architecture mixed with fantasy elements, large glass structures, clean geometric design, and subtle magical symbols integrated into the walls.

The scene feels serious and cinematic. The sky is cloudy and dramatic, creating a mysterious atmosphere. Small silhouettes of students can be seen walking in the distance to show scale.

Drawn in simple manga line art, clean ink lines, minimal shading, not overly detailed, easy-to-read composition.

Camera angle: wide shot from slightly below, making the academy look powerful and important.

Mood: calm, mysterious, cinematic opening scene.

i need this in color
CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause
Part One: The Glory Days
The circus tent blazed with light.
Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform.
The crowd roared.
"AGAIN! AGAIN!"
A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!"
Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder.
She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split.
The audience leaped to their feet.
Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked.
The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction.
"Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.

CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause
Part One: The Glory Days
The circus tent blazed with light.
Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform.
The crowd roared.
"AGAIN! AGAIN!"
A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!"
Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder.
She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split.
The audience leaped to their feet.
Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked.
The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction.
"Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.

$can i get it in color and without weapons and the scenery with them in a circus preforming I need a cover art with the four i want the series to be called (fractured kingdoms) have them all preforming on circus balls$

$i need a cover art with the four i want the series to be called (fractured kingdoms) have them all preforming on circus balls$

it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Her fingers traced the cold iron bars. How many nights had she spent here? How many times had she counted the bars, unable to sleep?
The space smelled like hay and rust and old wood. There were scratches in the walls—claw marks from previous performers, maybe. Or from her own restless nights.
She curled up on the mattress, tail wrapped around herself, ears flat against her skull.
"I’m a bird trapped in a cage," she whispered to the darkness.
The lantern flickered.
And then—movement outside her window.
A tall figure passed by, silhouetted against the moonlight.
Cinder sat up, ears perking.
The figure wore a long coat and a plague doctor mask—the beak curved and sharp. But strangest of all, faint stars seemed to glow across the mask’s surface, like constellations trapped in porcelain.
Her heart skipped.
Who—?
The figure moved silently through the sleeping circus, heading toward the edge of the grounds.
For the first time in weeks, she felt something other than despair.
Curiosity.

it needs to be in color( no weapon no book) Cinder practiced until her muscles screamed. New flips. Higher jumps. More fire. She pushed herself until she collapsed, panting, ears ringing.
It didn’t matter.
The crowds kept shrinking.
The other performers stopped meeting her eyes. The vendors no longer offered her treats. The strongman walked past her without a word.
She was invisible.
One night, she overheard the Ringmaster talking outside her wagon.
"The new performer arrives next week. Finally, we’ll have a real star again."
"What about Cinder?" someone asked.
"What about her? She’s done. Once the new act is settled, she’s out."
Cinder pressed her back against the wall of her wagon, heart pounding. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.
Out. Replaceable. Done.
She looked around her "room"—if you could call it that.
A cramped wagon with iron bars on the windows. A thin mattress on the floor. A cracked mirror. The door locked from the outside every night "for her safety."
She’d never noticed before how much it looked like a cage.

it needs to be in color Cinder practiced until her muscles screamed. New flips. Higher jumps. More fire. She pushed herself until she collapsed, panting, ears ringing.
It didn’t matter.
The crowds kept shrinking.
The other performers stopped meeting her eyes. The vendors no longer offered her treats. The strongman walked past her without a word.
She was invisible.
One night, she overheard the Ringmaster talking outside her wagon.
"The new performer arrives next week. Finally, we’ll have a real star again."
"What about Cinder?" someone asked.
"What about her? She’s done. Once the new act is settled, she’s out."
Cinder pressed her back against the wall of her wagon, heart pounding. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps.
Out. Replaceable. Done.
She looked around her "room"—if you could call it that.
A cramped wagon with iron bars on the windows. A thin mattress on the floor. A cracked mirror. The door locked from the outside every night "for her safety."
She’d never noticed before how much it looked like a cage.

it needs to be in color Part Two: The Decline
Three months later.
The tent was half-empty.
Cinder flipped through the air, landed perfectly, juggled the flaming pins with the same precision—but the applause was thin. Scattered. A few polite claps from the families who’d bothered to show up.
She forced her smile wider. Bowed deeper. Added an extra spin.
Nothing.
The little girl who used to sit in the front row wasn’t there anymore.
After the show, Cinder stood alone in the center ring, staring at the empty seats. Dust motes floated through the fading spotlight. The silence pressed against her ears.
"Pathetic."
She turned.
The Ringmaster stood at the edge of the ring, face shadowed, arms crossed. cinder said
"Sir, I—"
"The crowds are leaving because of you." the ring master said His voice was cold. Sharp. "You’re stale. Boring. A one-trick pony—or should I say, one-trick mutt."
Her tail tucked instinctively. "I can learn new tricks. I’ll practice harder—"
"I’ve already made arrangements." He turned away. "There’s a new act coming. Someone with real talent."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
"You’re replaceable, Cinder. Don’t forget that."
He walked away, boots echoing on the wooden floor.
Cinder stood frozen, flames still flickering on the pins in her hands.
Slowly, she let them drop.
They clattered to the ground, extinguished.
Weeks passed.

Part Two: The Decline
Three months later.
The tent was half-empty.
Cinder flipped through the air, landed perfectly, juggled the flaming pins with the same precision—but the applause was thin. Scattered. A few polite claps from the families who’d bothered to show up.
She forced her smile wider. Bowed deeper. Added an extra spin.
Nothing.
The little girl who used to sit in the front row wasn’t there anymore.
After the show, Cinder stood alone in the center ring, staring at the empty seats. Dust motes floated through the fading spotlight. The silence pressed against her ears.
"Pathetic."
She turned.
The Ringmaster stood at the edge of the ring, face shadowed, arms crossed.
"Sir, I—"
"The crowds are leaving because of you." His voice was cold. Sharp. "You’re stale. Boring. A one-trick pony—or should I say, one-trick mutt."
Her tail tucked instinctively. "I can learn new tricks. I’ll practice harder—"
"I’ve already made arrangements." He turned away. "There’s a new act coming. Someone with real talent."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
"You’re replaceable, Cinder. Don’t forget that."
He walked away, boots echoing on the wooden floor.
Cinder stood frozen, flames still flickering on the pins in her hands.
Slowly, she let them drop.
They clattered to the ground, extinguished.
Weeks passed.

this needs to be in color take out the book and weapon
please use the character from last panel
After the show, Cinder walked through the circus grounds, still buzzing with adrenaline. Performers clapped her shoulder. Vendors offered her candied apples. The strongman lifted her onto his shoulders for a victory lap.
She belonged here.
That night, curled up in her wagon, she stared at the wooden ceiling and thought about Ryan.
Ryan.
Her old street-performing partner. The one who’d taught her how to juggle when she was just a scrappy kid with oversized ears and a tail she couldn’t control. He’d always drop the third apple on purpose during their act—just to make the kids laugh.
"One day, Cin," he’d said, grinning with that lopsided smile, "we’ll perform for kings and queens. We’ll be legends."
She’d believed him.
But when the circus scouts came through town, only Cinder had been chosen. Ryan had pushed her forward.
"Go. You’re better than this street corner. I’ll catch up—I promise."
That was three years ago.
She wondered if he’d made it. If he was performing somewhere grand. If he still remembered her.
Her ears drooped slightly.
I hope you’re okay, Ryan.

this needs to be in color please use the character from last panel
After the show, Cinder walked through the circus grounds, still buzzing with adrenaline. Performers clapped her shoulder. Vendors offered her candied apples. The strongman lifted her onto his shoulders for a victory lap.
She belonged here.
That night, curled up in her wagon, she stared at the wooden ceiling and thought about Ryan.
Ryan.
Her old street-performing partner. The one who’d taught her how to juggle when she was just a scrappy kid with oversized ears and a tail she couldn’t control. He’d always drop the third apple on purpose during their act—just to make the kids laugh.
"One day, Cin," he’d said, grinning with that lopsided smile, "we’ll perform for kings and queens. We’ll be legends."
She’d believed him.
But when the circus scouts came through town, only Cinder had been chosen. Ryan had pushed her forward.
"Go. You’re better than this street corner. I’ll catch up—I promise."
That was three years ago.
She wondered if he’d made it. If he was performing somewhere grand. If he still remembered her.
Her ears drooped slightly.
I hope you’re okay, Ryan.

this needs to be in color After the show, Cinder walked through the circus grounds, still buzzing with adrenaline. Performers clapped her shoulder. Vendors offered her candied apples. The strongman lifted her onto his shoulders for a victory lap.
She belonged here.
That night, curled up in her wagon, she stared at the wooden ceiling and thought about Ryan.
Ryan.
Her old street-performing partner. The one who’d taught her how to juggle when she was just a scrappy kid with oversized ears and a tail she couldn’t control. He’d always drop the third apple on purpose during their act—just to make the kids laugh.
"One day, Cin," he’d said, grinning with that lopsided smile, "we’ll perform for kings and queens. We’ll be legends."
She’d believed him.
But when the circus scouts came through town, only Cinder had been chosen. Ryan had pushed her forward.
"Go. You’re better than this street corner. I’ll catch up—I promise."
That was three years ago.
She wondered if he’d made it. If he was performing somewhere grand. If he still remembered her.
Her ears drooped slightly.
I hope you’re okay, Ryan.

this needs to be in color CHAPTER 1 — Fading Applause
Part One: The Glory Days
The circus tent blazed with light.
Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform.
The crowd roared.
"AGAIN! AGAIN!"
A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!"
Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder.
She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split.
The audience leaped to their feet.
Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked.
The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction.
"Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.
That was enough.

The Decline
Three months later.
The tent was half-empty.
Cinder flipped through the air, landed perfectly, juggled the flaming pins with the same precision—but the applause was thin. Scattered. A few polite claps from the families who’d bothered to show up.
She forced her smile wider. Bowed deeper. Added an extra spin.
Nothing.
The little girl who used to sit in the front row wasn’t there anymore.
After the show, Cinder stood alone in the center ring, staring at the empty seats. Dust motes floated through the fading spotlight. The silence pressed against her ears.
"Pathetic."
She turned.
The Ringmaster stood at the edge of the ring, face shadowed, arms crossed.
"Sir, I—"
"The crowds are leaving because of you." His voice was cold. Sharp. "You’re stale. Boring. A one-trick pony—or should I say, one-trick mutt."
Her tail tucked instinctively. "I can learn new tricks. I’ll practice harder—"
"I’ve already made arrangements." He turned away. "There’s a new act coming. Someone with real talent."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
"You’re replaceable, Cinder. Don’t forget that."
He walked away, boots echoing on the wooden floor.
Cinder stood frozen, flames still flickering on the pins in her hands.
Slowly, she let them drop.
They clattered to the ground, extinguished.
Weeks passed.

That night, curled up in her wagon, she stared at the wooden ceiling and thought about Ryan.
Ryan.
Her old street-performing partner. The one who’d taught her how to juggle when she was just a scrappy kid with oversized ears and a tail she couldn’t control. He’d always drop the third apple on purpose during their act—just to make the kids laugh.
"One day, Cin," he’d said, grinning with that lopsided smile, "we’ll perform for kings and queens. We’ll be legends."
She’d believed him.
But when the circus scouts came through town, only Cinder had been chosen. Ryan had pushed her forward.
"Go. You’re better than this street corner. I’ll catch up—I promise."
That was three years ago.
She wondered if he’d made it. If he was performing somewhere grand. If he still remembered her.
Her ears drooped slightly.
I hope you’re okay, Ryan.

Fading Applause
Part One: The Glory Days
The circus tent blazed with light.
Cinder soared through the air, her body spinning in a perfect triple flip. Flames traced golden arcs behind her as she juggled the burning pins—one, two, three—never missing a beat. Her dog ears flattened against her skull from the speed, then perked up triumphantly as her feet hit the platform.
The crowd roared.
"AGAIN! AGAIN!"
A little girl in the front row bounced in her seat, tugging her mother’s sleeve. "Mommy, she’s flying!"
Cinder’s tail swayed as she bowed low, bells on her jester costume jingling. This—this—was what she lived for. The applause washing over her like warm rain. The gasps when she pulled off something impossible. The way children’s eyes went wide with wonder.
She caught three more flaming pins mid-air, spun them into a cascade of fire, and landed in a split.
The audience leaped to their feet.
Her smile was real. Bright. Uncracked.
The Ringmaster stood in the shadows beyond the spotlight, arms crossed, nodding with satisfaction.
"Good work, mutt," he’d say later. Not kind, but approving.
That was enough.
After the show, Cinder walked through the circus grounds, still buzzing with adrenaline. Performers clapped her shoulder. Vendors offered her candied apples. The strongman lifted her onto his shoulders for a victory lap.
She belonged here.

Chapter Intro:
The seal is broken. The Rift stirs. Deep within the void, a presence awakens — ancient and furious. The Riftborn King, long dormant, has opened his eye. As the Hidden Leaf regroups, Team 0 is summoned to a secret chamber beneath the Hokage Tower. There, the truth behind the Hoshigan, Isaiah’s mutation, and the Riftborn’s obsession with their bloodlines is finally revealed.

Scene 1: Descent into Secrets
Interior panel: A spiral staircase winds deep beneath the Hokage Tower. The walls are carved with ancient symbols. Torches flicker with blue flame.
- Shawn: Cloaked in black, his white fox mask with red markings clipped to his belt. His face is calm, with sharp cheekbones and a faint scar beneath his right eye. His 3-Tomoe Hoshigan glows with a fourth mark forming — a black diamond at the center. The obsidian-forged sword rests across his back, humming with gravitational energy.
- Jaden: His long, flowing black hair cascades down his back, tied loosely at the base. He wears a black shinobi robe with a red flame crest on the chest, one sleeve torn to reveal his muscular left arm. His Byakugan is dormant but alert, and his black gloves are worn from battle.
- Isaiah: Towering and broad-shouldered, his dark skin is marked with faint black veins from his mutation. His dreadlocks are tied back, and his jagged fur-lined cloak drapes over a cream-colored combat tunic. A kunai spins slowly in his right hand, his eyes scanning every shadow.
Hokage (gravely):
“This vault predates the village. It holds the truth behind your powers.”
Kuroda (to Shawn):
“Your eye didn’t awaken by chance. It was chosen — by something older than chakra itself.”

Scene 2: The Memory Stone
A massive crystal floats in the center of the chamber, pulsing with violet light. As Shawn steps forward, his Hoshigan reacts — the fourth mark completes with a flash.
Shawn (wincing, voice strained):
“It’s… calling me.”
He reaches out. The moment his fingers touch the stone, a surge of energy floods the room. Time freezes. Jaden and Isaiah are suspended mid-step, their expressions locked in concern.

Scene 3: The Riftborn King Revealed
Shawn is pulled into a vision. He stands in a shattered world — skies torn open, stars bleeding. A throne of bone and obsidian looms ahead. Upon it sits the Riftborn King — a towering figure with six arms, a jagged crystal crown, and a massive Hoshigan embedded in his chest.
Riftborn King (voice like thunder):
“You wear my legacy, child. My eye. My curse.”
Shawn (steady, eyes glowing):
“I’m not your heir.”
Riftborn King:
“You already are. The Eye remembers. And soon… so will you.”
The King raises a hand. The vision shatters.

Scene 4: The Eye Evolves
Back in the chamber, time resumes. Shawn stumbles back, breathing hard. His Hoshigan now bears a fourth tomoe — a black diamond spinning at the center.
Jaden (rushing forward, long hair flowing):
“Shawn! What happened?!”
His Byakugan activates instantly, veins bulging at his temples. He scans Shawn’s chakra network — it’s swirling, unstable, like a storm inside a bottle.
Isaiah (stepping in, dreadlocks swaying):
“Your chakra… it’s not yours anymore.”
His mutation pulses in response, black veins glowing faintly beneath his skin.
Shawn (voice low, eyes burning):
“I saw him. The Riftborn King. He’s coming.”

Scene 5: The King’s Herald
The chamber trembles. A Riftborn sigil burns into the air. A voice echoes from the stone.
Riftborn Voice (disembodied):
“The King rises. The Eye will return. And the world will kneel.”
The sigil vanishes. Silence falls.
Hokage (to Team 0):
“You three are the last line. If the King crosses over… we fall.”

Scene 6: Final Panel
Full-page spread: Team 0 stands before the glowing memory stone.
- Shawn: Cloak fluttering, Hoshigan gleaming with four tomoe. His obsidian blade hums with power.
- Jaden: Long hair flowing, Byakugan fully active, lightning crackling at his fingertips.
- Isaiah: Dreadlocks wild, mutation coiled like a shadow beast behind him, kunai in hand.
Narration box:
The King has awakened.
The Eye has remembered.
And the war for reality has begun.

Chapter Intro:
The Riftborn armies have been repelled, but the war is far from over. Deep within the void, a presence stirs — ancient, calculating, and furious. The Riftborn King, long dormant, awakens. As the Hidden Leaf regroups, Team 0 is summoned to a secret chamber beneath the Hokage Tower, where the truth about Shawn’s Hoshigan — and its connection to the King — is finally revealed.

Scene 1: The Hidden Chamber
Interior panel: A spiral staircase descends into the earth. Torches flicker along the stone walls. Team 0 follows the Hokage and Kuroda into a sealed vault.
- Shawn: His white fox mask is clipped to his belt. His face is calm but alert, with sharp features and a faint scar beneath his right eye. His 3-Tomoe Hoshigan glows with a fourth mark forming at its center. He wears a black cloak over a white shirt, the obsidian-forged sword strapped across his back.
- Jaden: His spiky black hair is slightly damp with sweat. He wears a black shirt with a red flame crest, one sleeve torn to reveal his muscular left arm. His Byakugan is inactive but alert, and his black gloves are scuffed from the last battle.
- Isaiah: Towering and broad-shouldered, his dark skin is marked with faint black veins from his mutation. His dreadlocked hair is tied back, and his fur-lined cloak is torn at the edges. He holds a kunai loosely in his right hand, always ready.
Hokage (gravely):
“This is the Eye’s origin. The place where the first Hoshigan was sealed.”
Kuroda (to Shawn):
“Your eye didn’t awaken by chance. It was chosen.”

Scene 2: The Memory Stone
A massive crystal floats in the center of the chamber. It pulses with violet light. As Shawn approaches, his Hoshigan reacts — the fourth mark completes.
Shawn (wincing):
“It’s… calling me.”
He touches the stone. A surge of energy floods the room. Time freezes. Jaden and Isaiah are suspended mid-step.

Scene 3: The Vision — The Riftborn King
Shawn is pulled into a vision. He stands in a ruined world, skies torn open. A throne of bone and obsidian looms ahead. Upon it sits the Riftborn King — a towering figure with six arms, a crown of jagged crystal, and a single, massive Hoshigan eye in his chest.
Riftborn King (voice like thunder):
“You wear my legacy, child. My eye. My curse.”
Shawn (steady):
“I’m not your heir.”
Riftborn King:
“You already are. The Eye remembers. And soon… so will you.”
The King raises a hand — the vision shatters.

Scene 4: Awakening
Back in the chamber, time resumes. Shawn stumbles back, eyes wide. The Hoshigan now bears a fourth tomoe — a black diamond at its center.
Jaden (rushing to him):
“Shawn! You good?”
- Jaden’s Byakugan activates instinctively. His pale eyes scan Shawn’s chakra — it’s swirling, unstable.
Isaiah (stepping forward):
“Your chakra… it’s not yours anymore.”
- Isaiah’s mutation pulses in response, his black veins glowing faintly.
Shawn (breathing hard):
“I saw him. The Riftborn King. He’s coming.”

Scene 5: The King’s Herald
Suddenly, the chamber trembles. A Riftborn sigil burns into the air. A voice echoes from the stone.
Riftborn Voice:
“The King rises. The Eye will return. And the world will kneel.”
The sigil vanishes. Silence.
Hokage (to Team 0):
“You three are the last line. If the King crosses over… we fall.”

Scene 6: Final Panel
Full-page spread: Team 0 stands at the edge of the chamber, backlit by the glowing memory stone. Shawn’s Hoshigan gleams with four tomoe. Jaden’s Byakugan is fully active. Isaiah’s mutation coils like a shadow beast behind him.
Narration box:
The King has awakened.
The Eye has remembered.
And the war for reality has begun.

Manga Story

Related Tags

More Manga to Explore