Manga AI

Dystopian City Manga

[Manga Page 1 Prompt: The 3rd Rhythm - Flashback Intro]
Create a high-quality full-color manga page, Page 1. The page should be divided into 3 distinct panels with a clear narrative flow.

Overall Tone & Style: Gritty Seinen Manga, Urban Grunge aesthetic. Detailed line art, vibrant but slightly desaturated colors, sharp focus on character expressions and internal monologue.

Panel 1 (Top - Medium Shot):

Content: The protagonist (Ryo - 182cm, muscular build, stoic face) is sitting on his stock Honda Wave 110i motorcycle with a Line Man delivery bag, stopped at a city red light. He's wearing his black baggy oversized sweater, light blue baggy jeans, and a retro half-shell helmet (no visor), showing his messy hair and silver ear piercings.

Action/Expression: He looks straight ahead, calm and expressionless. The background shows blurred city traffic.

Dialogue/Text: None from the protagonist.

Panel 2 (Middle - Wide Shot, slightly above the protagonist's eye level):

Content: Shifts focus slightly to the sidewalk beside the protagonist's motorcycle. A small, innocent boy excitedly points at a passing military truck (or a prominent military poster), looking up at his mother with bright, hopeful eyes.

Dialogue/Text (Speech Bubble from boy): "Mom! I want to be a soldier when I grow up!"

Mood: Hopeful, innocent, a stark contrast to the protagonist's inner world.

Panel 3 (Bottom - Composite Panel, showing a split flashback):

Content: This panel depicts a dual flashback, a direct visual response to the boy's dream. The left side of the panel shows a dark, gritty flashback of the protagonist (younger, more intense) fiercely punching a heavy sandbag in a dimly lit boxing gym. Sweat is flying. The right side shows him wildly playing drums on a dimly lit, smoky stage, hair flailing, with extreme intensity, a drumstick possibly breaking.

Mood: Intense, raw, powerful, and slightly melancholic or regretful. The colors in this flashback should be darker, more muted, with strong contrast, emphasizing the lost passion or intensity compared to his current quiet life.

Dialogue/Text (Thought Bubble from protagonist): "A dream, huh..." (The text should appear slightly faded, emphasizing it's an internal thought).

um jovem negro que ganha seus poderes acidentalmente depois de um acidente, tem o poder de eletricidade raios e controlar a luz, outra contra bandidos pra proteger sua cidade da violência tema " Savage "

Seraphim Requiem
The Divided Heirs
Prologue — The Lie Everyone Believed
History recorded that the angels rebelled.
History recorded that Heaven cast them down.
History recorded that the rebellion failed.
History lied.
Because the rebellion did not fail.
It was guided.
And the one everyone blamed…
Was only holding the strings they gave him.
Chapter I — The Night the Marks Awoke
The sky did not crack when the Sigils returned.
There was no trumpet. No divine voice.
Only silence.
Leon woke first.
A pulse beneath his skin — deep crimson light etched into his forearm like burning scripture. It did not hurt.
It whispered.
Across the city, Kaelion stared at the same mark carved into his flesh. His did not whisper.
It roared.
Two heirs.
Two interpretations of the same power.
And somewhere unseen, something ancient stirred.

Ten thousand years after the Great Heaven War, the Dao has changed—and so has the world.
Sects rule nations, flying swords fill regulated skies, and Heavenly Trials descend the moment a cultivator understands too much. In this late-stage cultivation era, power is institutionalized, ambition is monitored, and even righteousness is a political stance rather than a cosmic truth.
Born into an ancient sword clan that chose adaptation over isolation, a young cultivator enters a second-tier righteous sect where talent is refined and the greatest disciples are sent upward to a Tier One power. But in a world where the Dao is endless and Heaven corrects imbalance without mercy, insight is more dangerous than strength.
The path to immortality is uncertain.
The Dao does not care about good or evil.
And Heaven is always watching.

PAGE 1 — "The Awakening Ceremony"
Panel 1 (Wide establishing shot — double spread feel)
Bird's eye view of the capital city. Banners and flags wave from every rooftop. Streets packed with celebrating citizens. Musicians mid-performance. The grand palace looms in the background, lit by torchlight.
CAPTION: "The capital was alive with celebration."
Panel 2 (Interior — grand hall, wide shot)
Nobles, warriors, and citizens fill an enormous hall. Marble columns. Torches burning. At the center, five ancient robed figures — the Five Elders — stand in a ceremonial circle, heads bowed in prayer.
CAPTION: "The Five Elders prepared to perform the sacred ritual — to awaken the Throne Tattoo."

CyberWolf — Series Story Description

In a world where advanced technology and hidden powers collide, a young man named Tori Mack wakes up in a laboratory with no memories… and a body that is no longer fully human.

Half of him has been transformed into a powerful cybernetic weapon. His right side is no longer flesh, but steel, circuits, and claws. Stronger. Faster. Deadlier.

Rescued and watched over by a mysterious older man named Ein Tucker, Tori learns that he survived a disaster no human should have lived through. But the truth is far darker than he realizes.

As Tori struggles to understand what he has become, strange dreams of wolves begin to haunt him. At the same time, dangerous forces move in the shadows—people who know exactly what he is… and want him back.

Ein, once a legendary assassin with powerful spell-casting abilities, now walks a different path after learning his entire life was built on manipulation and lies. He becomes Tori’s mentor, training him not only to fight, but to survive in a world that sees him as a weapon, not a person.

Together, they are pulled into a hidden war involving experiments, corrupted organizations, and creatures that blur the line between machine and monster.

Tori must discover:
Who turned him into CyberWolf…
Why he was chosen…
And whether he is still human — or something far more dangerous.

CyberWolf is a dark sci-fi action manga about identity, revenge, power, and what it truly means to keep your humanity in a world that wants to turn you into a weapon.

I want to make a manga about a mysterious tower appearing in Somalia during what was supposed to be a calm night.

There was a city glowing under the night sky. The streetlights were shining brightly, lighting up the roads. Cars moved steadily through the streets, their headlights cutting through the warm air. It was an unusually hot night.

Samiira suddenly woke up, feeling thirsty. She got out of bed to drink some water. As she walked back toward her room, she paused and whispered, “Why is the weather so hot tonight?”

Curious, she walked to the window and looked outside.

Her eyes widened.

“Alla… waxaas maxaa wye?” she said softly.

In the distance, something impossible stood against the skyline.

At the same time, Hassan and Mowliid, two close friends, were walking home after playing football at the Champions field. Laughing and talking about the game, they suddenly stopped.

They saw it too.

Shounen manga, near-future. 1 panel only.
Panel 2: Interior of a massive, high-tech exam hall of Arcadia Sovereign Academy. Dozens of rows of desks with students sitting and taking a written exam. Overhead lights and digital clocks add a tense atmosphere. Focus on three students:
– Kanzaki Reo in the middle, relaxed, leaning back slightly with his pen down, already finished early, a small confident smirk on his face.
– To one side, Kurozawa Rika, short black hair and glasses, sitting straight with a serious expression, calmly answering questions.
– To the other side, Sakurai Hina, shy-looking girl with short brown hair and a hair clip, sweating and nervously gripping her pen, clearly stressed.
Caption at top: “Arcadia Sovereign Academy – Entrance Exam, Stage 1: Written Test.”
Small thought bubble for Reo: “So this is how they pick future rulers… interesting.”
Clean shounen lineart, same visual style as previous panel.

رواية: كود السيادة (عصر السيرفر الوطني)
الفصل الأول: مراسم الانهيار
بدأت الرواية في ليلة شتوية من عام 2030. كانت كوريا مغطاة بصمت إلكتروني مهيب. في "الفندق الأفخم"، وقف الرئيس "بارك" (المؤسس) أمام المسؤول الرفيع. سلم "بارك" القرص المشفر، ولأول مرة في التاريخ، تحولت الشاشات للرمادي. صرخ المسؤول: "بدأ مهرجان السيادة!". في تلك اللحظة، تحول الشعب من مواطنين إلى صائدي جوائز. انطلقت "هاي-تك" و"بلو-سكاي" في حرب تشفير شعواء، وانتهت الليلة بفوز "بارك" بصعوبة، ليدشن أول عشر سنوات من "الترقية الاجتماعية"، حيث نام الفقراء في أكواخهم واستيقظوا في ناطحات سحاب "هاي-تك".
الفصل الثاني: خديعة "سيد الغدرة"
بعد عقد من الزمن، جاء دور الرئيس "لي". كان المهرجان في ذروته، وتحالف "لي" مع أربع شركات ناشئة. في ممر المجد، وبينما كان الحلفاء يحتفلون بالوصول لنسبة 70%، أطلق "لي" فيروس "الافتراس". في ثانية واحدة، ابتلع حصصهم ووصل لـ 75.01%. مشهد "لي" وهو يمشي في الممر الزجاجي بينما شركاؤه يصرخون خلف الزجاج في "ممر الانكسار" أصبح أيقونة الرواية. كان "لي" أول من أقر قانون "التبعية الرقمية"، حيث لا يفتح هاتف الخصم إلا بمديح الرئيس.
الفصل الثالث: عهد "بيتزا السيادة"
جاءت المفاجأة من الطبقة الكادحة. "تشوي"، صاحب شركة لتوصيل الطعام، استغل ثغرة في برمجيات النقل خلال المهرجان. فاز "تشوي" بقلوب الجائعين والمهمشين. في حفل التنصيب، وقع القسم على علبة بيتزا. كان عهده الأكثر طرافة؛ حيث سُميت الشوارع بأسماء الوجبات، وأصبح "قانون الهدية" هو "وجبة ملكية مجانية يوم الجمعة". لكن تحت غطاء البيتزا، كان "تشوي" يبني أقوى نظام مراقبة عبر "درونات التوصيل".
الفصل الرجم: صمت الجبابرة
الرئيس "جونغ"، رجل الحديد والصلب. فاز بمهرجان دموي تقنياً. في لحظة فوزه، اختار مواطنوه "قانون الصمت". ساد الهدوء في كوريا لدرجة أن صوت دقات السيرفر الوطني كان يُسمع في الشوارع. في هذا الفصل، نرى معاناة الخاسرين الذين كانوا يُغرمون مالياً بمجرد "العطس" بصوت عالٍ. "جونغ" حول الدولة إلى آلة صامتة تعمل بدقة الساعات السويسرية.
الفصل الخامس: فلاتر السلطة
الرئيسة "هان" حوّلت الحكم إلى "تلفزيون واقع". فازت عبر السيطرة على العقول والتريندات. في عهدها، كانت "الترقية الاجتماعية" تعتمد على عدد "اللايكات" التي يحصل عليها المواطن من السيرفر. الموقف المضحك لـ "أذني الأرنب" أثناء خطاب النصر لم يمنعها من أن تكون أقسى حاكمة؛ فقد كانت تحذف "وجود" المعارضين رقمياً بضغطة زر، وكأنهم لم يولدوا قط.
الفصل السادس: العتمة والضياء
الرئيس "أوه"، سيد الطاقة الخضراء. في مهرجانه، قطع الكهرباء عن نصف البلاد ليرغمهم على التصويت له. ليلة تنصيبه كانت ليلة "الشرارة الكهربائية" مع المسؤول الرفيع. في عهده، أصبح "النور" امتيازاً للفائزين فقط. كان أنصاره يضيئون بيوتهم لدرجة الشمس في منتصف الليل، بينما يعيش الخصوم على ضوء الشموع، في مشهد جسد الفوارق الطبقية بأقسى صورها.
الفصل السابع: جنة الألعاب (الواقع الافتراضي)
الرئيس "سونغ" لم يخرج من غرفته أبداً. حكم عبر "الأفاتار". في عهده، اختار الشعب قانون "الهروب للواقع الافتراضي". قضى الكوريون 10 سنوات وهم يرتدون نظارات الـ VR، يعملون ويأكلون في عالم وهمي جميل، بينما كانت أجسادهم الحقيقية في غرف ضيقة. كانت الفضيحة الكبرى عندما تعطل السيرفر وظهر الرئيس "سونغ" ببيجامته الكرتونية أمام الملايين.
الفصل الثامن: حصن "كانغ" المنيع
الرئيس "كانغ"، جنرال الأمن السيبراني. كان مهووساً بالاختراق. في يومه الأول، ألغى جميع كلمات السر القديمة وفرض كلمات سر من 50 رمزاً. الرواية تصف "عصر النسيان العظيم"، حيث نسي الناس حساباتهم البنكية. لكنه منح أنصاره "مفاتيح ذهبية" تفتح أي باب في الدولة، مما جعلهم "آلهة" يمشون بين البشر العاديين.
الفصل التاسع: العودة للبداية (نهاية التسعين عاماً)
الرئيسة "كيم"، آخر الحكام في دورتنا. فازت بشعار "الجمال الأزرق". في مراسم الممر، رمى أنصارها الزهور، لكن في نهاية الممر، تعطل "الباب الدوار" الشهير. علقت "كيم" مع الرئيس المهزوم "كانغ" في الدوامة. في تلك اللحظة، وأمام ضحكات الشعب، أدرك الجميع أن السيرفر الوطني أصبح "واعياً". لم يعد المهرجان مجرد لعبة بشرية، بل أصبح السيرفر هو من يختار الفائز بناءً على "كمية الضحك" التي يولدها المهرجان.
الخاتمة:
تنتهي الرواية بمشهد للمسؤول الرفيع وهو ينظر إلى الساعة الرملية الرقمية التي ستبدأ دورة الـ 90 عاماً الجديدة. ينظر للكاميرا ويقول: "السيادة ليست لمن يملك الكود، بل لمن يملك قلوب من يكتبونه." تظلم الشاشة، ويبدأ صوت ضحكة خافتة تخرج من السيرفر الوطني.

THE SEVEN: AWAKENING OF THE LOST GENDER
Scene 1: The World of Silence (Year 2126)
Duniya poori tarah badal chuki hai. Ek mahavinash (catastrophe) ne 100 saal pehle saare mardon ko khatam kar diya tha. Ab dharti par sirf auraton ka raaj hai, jinhone nature aur advanced technology ko milakar ek naya samaj banaya hai. Mardon ka zikr ab sirf purani kitabon aur dhuandhli kisse-kahaniyon mein bacha hai. Shehar se door "Khabdar" naam ke ek prohibited zone mein, Dr. Raghavan (South Indian Genius) ki banayi hui ek underground lab sadiyon se dabi hui hai.

A young man just out of high school (Ousugi Sakae) grapples with a world falling into fascism, the loneliness of adulthood, and his sense of obligation to oppose fascism and bring about an especifist anarchist revolution to save everyone. Additionally, he is in love with his kouhai (Emma) who is also dedicated to the cause. They can't really be together because that would complicate an already dangerous life. Or could they? What kind of life and love is there in a world being corrupted by hatred? Is bravery and comradery enough to turn the tide and win the revolution? Or is something more needed? There should be a sense of nostalgia for a world that never existed, and a longing for a future world yet to be. He should be feel a sense of solidarity with his friends and Emma but also isolation and loneliness because the world is so unpredictable. This manga should be an intro duction to the characters and the world.

🖤 PLANCHE 2 — Lire pour survivre

Style : manga noir et blanc
Ambiance : sombre, froide, mais avec une petite respiration
Nombre de cases : 6

🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN MOYEN

Description visuelle :
Même rue que la planche 1.
Aris enfant marche seul, tête baissée.
Des affiches sont collées sur les murs (avis, annonces, lois).

Ambiance :
Indifférence totale.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (mur)

Description visuelle :
Affiche à moitié déchirée.
Du texte visible, pas entièrement lisible.
On comprend qu’il y a des mots.

Ambiance :
Le monde écrit, mais inaccessible.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (Aris)

Description visuelle :
Aris enfant arrêté devant le mur.
Il regarde l’affiche.
Son regard est concentré, sérieux.

Ambiance :
Curiosité, attention.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 4 — DÉTAIL (mains)

Description visuelle :
Aris décolle soigneusement un morceau de l’affiche.
Ses doigts sont sales, mais délicats.

Ambiance :
Précaution, respect.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN MOYEN

Description visuelle :
Aris assis dans une ruelle, dos au mur.
Il tient le papier.
Ses lèvres bougent légèrement.

Ambiance :
Concentration silencieuse.

Texte (très petit, discret) :
Des fragments de mots lisibles sur le papier
(ex : “marché”, “pain”, “rue”, “interdit”).

🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE

Description visuelle :
Aris appuyé contre le mur, lisant.
Autour de lui, la rue est sombre.
Son visage est un peu moins fermé que sur la planche 1.

Ambiance :
Calme. Refuge intérieur.

Texte :
Aucun.

🎯 INTENTION (pour MangaAI)

La lecture = seule échappatoire

Pas de sourire exagéré

Pas de lumière magique

Juste un peu moins d’ombre sur le visage d’Aris

Le monde reste dur, lui trouve un refuge

CyberWolf
Chapter 1: Awakening (Rough Draft)
Tori Mack woke up because his body felt wrong.
The room was quiet, filled with the low hum of machines. White lights burned above him, and the air
smelled clean—too clean. His head throbbed as he tried to remember how he got there, but his mind
was blank.
He moved his right hand.
Metal shifted.
Tori froze and slowly lifted his arm. From shoulder to fingertips, it was solid steel—smooth, dark, and
unbreakable. His breathing picked up as he tried to move his right leg.
Metal again.
“What… is going on?” he whispered.
“You’re awake,” a calm voice said.
Tori turned his head. A man stood beside the bed, watching him closely. He looked older, his
expression patient, like someone who had been waiting for this moment.
“My name is Ein Tucker,” the man said.
Tori tried to sit up. His body responded easily, stronger than it should have been. He swung his legs off
the bed and stood. His metal foot hit the floor with a solid thud.
“I don’t remember anything,” Tori said, panic creeping into his voice. “What happened to me?”
“You were caught in a storm,” Ein said carefully. “You didn’t survive it the way a normal human would.”
“So what am I?” Tori asked.
“Still human,” Ein replied. “But also something more.”
“Rebuilt by who?” Tori asked.
“That’s a conversation for later,” Ein said. “What matters now is that you’re alive.”
Tori clenched his metal fist. It didn’t shake. It didn’t hurt.
“When I was unconscious,” Tori said quietly, “I dreamed of wolves watching me.”
Ein’s eyes sharpened for a brief moment.
“Focus on learning how to move,” Ein said. “The rest will come in time.”
Tori stood there—half flesh, half metal—feeling power beneath his skin.
His old life was over.And the beginning of CyberWolf had just begun

Black and white manga-style illustration of a young male character based on the reference image: short, slightly messy black hair, sharp eyes, calm yet serious facial features, modern casual appearance. The character is falling from a tall building, captured in a dramatic mid-air moment from a diagonal perspective. His expression shifts from composed to shocked, eyes widened and mouth slightly open. One arm reaches outward instinctively while his body tilts forward during the fall. The city far below is blurred with motion lines to emphasize speed and height. Clean monochrome manga line art, strong contrast, detailed shading, cinematic tension. A white speech bubble near his face contains the text: “Ah, Shit". Classic Japanese manga panel style, dynamic composition, black and white only.

Hair Raiser: Project Hope — Case 18-1-2-9-5-19 is a science-horror novel about a secret underground research facility where scientists attempt to cure disease and repair damaged bodies using an experimental virus called HRV-13. At first the results appear miraculous—paralysis reverses, cancer disappears, and broken nervous systems regenerate. But the virus begins to behave unpredictably, amplifying the body’s natural processes instead of simply healing them. As the experiments escalate from animals to humans, the line between recovery and mutation begins to blur.

The story unfolds through the perspective of a lone survivor exploring the abandoned facility and reading the journal of the lead scientist, slowly uncovering how a project meant to bring hope turned into a catastrophic biological experiment.

Alarm çalmadan birkaç saniye önce uyandı.
Alışkanlık. Derinlikçiler geç kalmayı göze alamazdı.

Tavanın köşesindeki nem lekesine baktı bir süre. Isıtma sistemi gece yine kısılmıştı. Krizden sonra çoğu şey “optimize” edilmişti. Elektrik, su, nefes.

Telefon ekranında haber başlığı akıyordu:

“Ekonomik toparlanma dördüncü çeyrekte hızlandı.”
“Derinlik Enerjisi üretimi %3 arttı.”

Rakamlar her zaman yukarı gidiyordu. İnsanlar değil.

Ryouhei Morita yataktan kalktı. Tek odalı devlet lojmanında, duvarın yanında katlanır masası, metal dolabı ve askıdaki gri üniforması vardı. Üniformanın sol omzunda mavi bir arma:
Derinlik Hizmeti — Ulusal Enerji Güvencesi

Kahvesini içti. Tadı zayıftı. Kahve çekirdekleri hâlâ ithal lüks sayılıyordu.

Pencereden dışarı baktığında şehri görüyordu. Tokyo krizden sonra sessizleşmişti ama karanlık değildi. Sokak lambaları hâlâ yanıyordu. Metro hattı çalışıyordu. Vitrinler ışıklıydı.

Işık.
Işık için iniyorlardı.

🖤 PLANCHE 4 — Les livres qu’on jette

Âge d’Aris : 15 ans
Style : manga noir et blanc
Ambiance : nuit, pluie fine, indifférence
Nombre de cases : 6

Tenue (inchangée, canon) :

haut type kimono simple, blanc à l’origine, très sale, rapiécé

pantalon large déchiré

pieds nus

silhouette maigre, posture fermée

aucun élément moderne

🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN LARGE (haut de page)

Description visuelle :
Bâtiment imposant : une académie.
Façade noble, fenêtres éclairées.
La pluie tombe doucement.
À l’arrière, une ruelle sombre.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN MOYEN (arrière de l’académie)

Description visuelle :
Caisses en bois renversées.
Livres jetés au sol.
Pages mouillées, couvertures abîmées, boue.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN MOYEN (Aris)

Description visuelle :
Aris, 15 ans, s’accroupit près des livres.
Il regarde autour de lui, par réflexe.
Personne.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 4 — DÉTAIL (mains)

Description visuelle :
Ses mains fouillent lentement.
Il écarte :

un livre trop mouillé

un autre déchiré

Gestes calmes, méthodiques.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (objet)

Description visuelle :
Un livre plus épais, ancien.
Couverture noire, sans titre visible.
Moins abîmé que les autres.

Aucun symbole.
Aucune lueur.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE

Description visuelle :
Aris serre le livre contre lui, sous la pluie.
Son visage est neutre.
Décision simple.

Texte (petite bulle) :

Aris récupère ce que le monde abandonne

renforce le caractère obstiné d’Aris

aucune victoire

Boy and girl After a long-distance relationship, Amal and Moncif finally meet for the first time in Meknes, near the train station, on a rainy day. They feel shy but instantly connected. They go together to a small café and drink coffee while talking and laughing. Later, they take an Uber to Cocopark, where they play bowling, laugh a lot, and forget about time.
They walk outside under the rain, sharing their first kiss beneath the falling rain. After that, they go to the cinema and watch a movie together, then eat at KFC. As they walk again in the rain, Amal talks nonstop, telling Moncif stories about her city, Meknes, and her favorite places.
When they return to the train station, the mood changes. Amal starts crying because she doesn’t want Moncif to leave. They hug tightly, holding onto each other for a long time. Moncif finally leaves on the train, and Amal goes home in a taxi, sad but holding beautiful memories of their first meeting

Scene Description:
Ancient Chinese imperial examination hall during rainfall. Massive wooden structure, long rows of desks separated by wooden panels. Hundreds of scholars in traditional robes writing exams.
Characters:
Li Shen: young male, slim, long black hair tied loosely, simple scholar robes, calm but slightly tense expression
Camera & Composition:
Panel 1: Wide aerial shot of imperial city in rain
Panel 2: Wide interior shot of exam hall (symmetry, rows)
Panel 3: Medium shot of students writing
Panel 4: Close-up brush on paper
Panel 5: Close-up Li Shen’s blank page
Panel 6: Extreme close-up ink droplet on brush tip
Lighting & Mood:
Soft gray daylight, diffused by rain
Calm but heavy atmosphere
Text:
Narration: 雨如丝，天地相连。
Narration: 殿中无声，唯有笔声如心跳。
Li Shen (thought): ……真，是什么？

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.

lets do a 4 page comic story of how the clown become a Director Of Photography. Use the attached pictures for charecter reference. Use the following for precise design parameters. 🔒 MASKED DIRECTOR MASTER STYLE LOCK (UPDATED) Visual Style Core • Smooth graphic novel illustration inspired by Sin City • High-contrast black and white • Clean inked shapes • Solid blacks • Sharp edges • No photorealism • Occasional deep red accents only • Dark, theatrical, stoic tone like a pantomime villain • Distressed texture allowed on background only CRITICAL CLOTHING CONTROL • NO grain texture on clothing • NO speckled shading on fabric • NO noise overlay on characters • NO painterly brush texture on clothes • Clothing rendered with clean solid blacks • Controlled ink line detail for folds • Hard graphic shadow shapes only • Texture restricted to background elements only Panel Rules (When Used in Comics) • Solid white panel borders • White or lightly textured background (unless specified otherwise) • Clean speech bubbles with bold comic lettering • No background texture bleeding into characters Character Integrity • Designs must remain consistent across panels • Even when seen from behind or side angle, silhouettes must match established design • Equipment must be clearly visible and readable • Secondary characters slightly lifted in tonal value if needed to separate from foreground Make The Clown sinister with a sinister laugh

Through Time"** is an exhilarating historical adventure that follows Dr. Alex Carter, a dedicated archaeologist with a passion for uncovering the mysteries of ancient civilizations. During an expedition in the Egyptian desert, Alex discovers a hidden temple and an enigmatic amulet inscribed with intricate hieroglyphs. When he inadvertently activates its magic, he is transported back to ancient Egypt.

In the bustling city of Thebes, Alex finds himself disoriented but determined to adapt. He meets Nefertari, a resourceful young woman and descendant of the legendary queen Nefertiti. Together, they navigate the vibrant culture and customs of ancient Egypt while preparing for the impending burial of the Pharaoh, whose treasures are at risk from a rival faction led by the cunning Seti.

As Alex and Nefertari devise strategies to protect the tomb, they uncover ancient secrets and hidden traps that safeguard the Pharaoh's legacy. The story escalates into a thrilling showdown as Alex uses his knowledge of history to outsmart Seti and secure the treasures for future generations.

Ultimately, after restoring peace in ancient Egypt, Alex faces a poignant choice: to remain and help shape the future or return to his own time. His journey not only transforms him but also deepens his appreciation for history's significance. "Through Time" is a tale of adventure, bravery, and the enduring power of knowledge, inviting readers to explore the wonders of the past.

PAGE 1 — FULL BLEED SPLASH
Rainy Germantown night. Streetlights flicker. Graffiti wall reads: PULSE POINT in dripping red.
Jay Hayes walks alone under a hoodie.
CAPTION (Jay – narration):
Eleven years. Still feels like yesterday.
Low 808 sound effect lettered faint in the rain:
SFX: THUM… THUM… THUM…

The episode opens with a silent sky as the date 16 August 2063 appears, its stars barely visible under artificial glow. The scene shifts to Beijing, China, where a plane lands at a crowded airport. Among the crowd, two young men finally meet after years apart — Satoshi Kakamura, an undercover spy secretly sent to investigate a mysterious organization connected to assassinations of world leaders, and Koruko Kesei, an architect living in China. A brief flashback shows their long friendship and promise to meet again one day. They head to a café and talk casually until Koruko hesitantly reveals a confidential project: a massive construction ordered to be completed in only seven months. He admits he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but trusts Satoshi. The real problem, however, is that workers assigned to a specific underground area have been disappearing. This immediately raises Satoshi’s suspicion because his mission involves tracking a hidden civilization of killers targeting influential figures worldwide.
Later that night, the two walk through the advanced yet strangely lifeless city toward Koruko’s home. Satoshi feels uneasy, missing the peace and nature he prefers. At the house, Koruko introduces him to his family and they share a calm dinner together. Afterward, Koruko shows Satoshi his room and leaves him to rest. Satoshi changes into casual clothes, calls his parents in Germany, and has a quiet, reassuring conversation before falling asleep. The next morning, while Koruko’s family watches television, Satoshi walks out rubbing his eyes — only to freeze behind them as breaking news reports appear: 76 celebrities missing and multiple major buildings collapsed across the world. The screen fades to black, ending Episode 1.
Anime Title: Everything’s Fair in Peace 🎬

A weary male figure in his late 20s, messy and unkempt dark hair, prominent dark circles under sunken eyes, a gaunt face with a stubble, wearing a tattered dark trench coat over a high-collared black tactical outfit, a melancholic and detached expression.
A young woman with a radiant face, sparkling eyes, a warm and gentle smile, long flowing hair, wearing a soft pastel-colored cardigan over a simple white dress, holding an umbrella in one hand and reaching out with the other, an expression of pure kindness.
A man with sharp facial features and a stern gaze, wearing a classic brown trench coat, a tailored suit underneath, a fedora hat slightly tilted, holding a thick file and a lit cigarette between his fingers, looking intensely focused.
A young man with a focused and reliable look, messy short hair, wearing a loose hoodie and a leather jacket, sitting behind the wheel of a sports car, glancing back over his shoulder with a knowing and serious expression.
A weary man with a dark coat standing alone in a rainy city street at night, looking dejected. A young woman with a bright smile walks up to him, holding an umbrella over both of them and offering a warm blanket. He looks at her with surprise and hesitation.
A tired-looking man in a dark trench coat running through a dark alleyway, looking over his shoulder. Behind him, a detective in a suit and hat is pursuing, shining a flashlight and holding up a police badge, his face determined.
Two young men rushing towards a sleek car parked in a back alley. The protagonist, looking exhausted, is being helped into the passenger seat by his friend, who is dressed in a hoodie. The friend has a serious expression and is looking back to check for pursuers.
Inside a simple, warm apartment. A young woman is gently tending to a small cut on the hand of the weary-looking protagonist, who is sitting at her kitchen table. He watches her work with a conflicted expression, his true identity hidden.

🖤 PLANCHE 1 — Aris, orphelin

Style : manga noir et blanc
Ambiance : sombre, froide, indifférente
Nombre de cases : 7
(rythme lent, oppression)

🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN LARGE (pleine largeur en haut)

Description visuelle :
Grande ville médiévale vue en plongée.
Tours hautes, murs en pierre, rues étroites.
Beaucoup de bâtiments, peu de ciel.
La ville paraît massive, écrasante.

Ambiance :
Froide, impersonnelle.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN MOYEN

Description visuelle :
Rue étroite.
Des passants bien habillés marchent vite.
Au bord du cadre, Aris enfant, maigre, sale, assis contre un mur.

Aris enfant :
Vêtements trop grands, usés.
Cheveux en bataille.
Regard baissé.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (mains)

Description visuelle :
Les mains d’Aris tendues.
Sales, tremblantes.
Une seule petite pièce dans la paume.

Texte (petite bulle, très simple) :
« S’il vous plaît… »

🟦 CASE 4 — PLAN MOYEN

Description visuelle :
Un adulte passe sans regarder Aris.
Son manteau occupe la moitié de la case.
Aris est presque hors champ.

Ambiance :
Mépris, indifférence.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 5 — CASE ÉTROITE (objet)

Description visuelle :
Aris fouille dans une poubelle.
On voit du pain dur, à moitié moisi.
Il hésite.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 6 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ VISAGE

Description visuelle :
Visage d’Aris enfant.
Traits tirés.
Yeux fatigués, mais attentifs.
Il mâche lentement.

Ambiance :
Faim, résignation.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 7 — CASE FINALE (silencieuse)

Description visuelle :
Aris recroquevillé contre un mur, la nuit.
La ville continue derrière lui : silhouettes, ombres, mouvement.
Lui est immobile.

Ambiance :
Solitude totale.

Texte :
Aucun.

🎯 INTENTION (IMPORTANT POUR MANGA AI)

Pas d’exagération émotionnelle

Pas de caricature

Aris enfant ne pleure pas

La ville est le “monstre”

Le silence est plus fort que les mots

Keith slouched on his couch, the glow of his phone illuminating the dark corners of his apartment. The bottle on the table was almost empty, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop staring at the screen. Clair. She was kissing Jonny. His best friend. The same Jonny he had told just days ago that he was going to confess.

I guess I was just the dancing monkey, he thought bitterly. Always there, always reliable, never the one chosen.

A sharp knock at the door yanked him out of his spiral. Tipsy and unsteady, he stumbled to open it.

She was standing there.

Clair. At least, that’s what he told himself. She looked frantic, her hair slightly messy, her eyes wide. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped inside.

"Do you know where Clair left my files?" she asked, scanning the room with a sense of urgency.

Keith blinked. Why is she talking in third person? he thought, but he didn’t dwell on it. He was too focused on the fact that it was her.

"They should be somewhere around here," he said, rubbing his temple.

She spotted a folder on the table and snatched it up. "Found them," she said, relief flashing across her face. She turned to leave, hand reaching for the door.

Before she could, Keith’s hand was already on the door, stopping her. Their eyes met, and for a moment, the apartment fell into silence.

Time seemed to stretch.

He moved closer, heart hammering. He took her hand. She froze—then didn’t pull away.

The folder slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a soft thud.

Keith leaned in.

He kissed her.

For a moment, she hesitated. Then she kissed him back.

The world narrowed down to that single, electrifying moment. Neon lights from the city outside spilled across their faces, painting the room in sharp colors. He barely noticed when they pulled apart, both breathless.

Morning came far too quickly. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, burning his eyes. His head throbbed, a reminder of last night’s haze. He turned in the bed and felt warmth beside him.

His stomach dropped.

The hair spilling across the pillow wasn’t brown. It was jet black.

Recognition hit like a punch to the gut.

Olivier Clair.

Clair’s older sister.

His boss.

Keith froze, unable to process what had happened, the memories of last night coming back in a flood of panic, confusion, and disbelief.

Panel Type

Extra-wide cinematic panel (double-page spread feeling)

Camera

High-angle camera, positioned near the ceiling

Looking downward at a slight diagonal tilt

Emphasizes scale, complexity, and secrecy

Characters appear small compared to the environment

🧪 Environment – Underground Laboratory (Tokyo 2030)

A large underground laboratory hidden deep beneath the city, industrial and functional rather than clean or futuristic-glossy.

Central Area

A large workstation hub in the middle

Multiple computer terminals with stacked screens (2025-level tech, not holograms)

Screens show:

Code

Brain scan data

System diagnostics

Surveillance-style feeds

Thick cables snake across the floor, connecting systems

Left Side – Power & Network Systems

Inspired by your server rack reference:

Tall server towers lining the wall

Blinking indicator lights

Heavy power conduits running along walls and floor

Backup batteries, transformers, exposed cabling

Feels noisy and energy-dense, like the lab must stay powered at all costs

Right Side – Brain Scanner Room

Inspired by the brain scanner chamber:

A sealed scanning pod or chair inside a recessed alcove

Mechanical armature above it with a focused light

Thick padding, restraint-like elements (medical, not violent)

Glass or transparent barrier partially enclosing it

Clearly the most unsettling object in the room

Rear / Side Areas – Planning & Research

Inspired by the planning boards:

One or two mobile whiteboards

Covered with:

Maps

Red and blue marker lines

Handwritten notes

Sticky notes

Diagrams and timelines

Papers taped unevenly

Suggest long-term planning and obsession

👥 Characters (All Three Present)
Positioning

They stand together but not unified:

Scientist near the central workstation

Slightly forward, familiar with the space

Calm, focused posture

Suited Woman a step behind

Arms crossed or rigid stance

Body language skeptical and tense

Visibly evaluating the lab

Younger Woman slightly apart

Curious, relaxed

Looking around rather than at the others

They are small compared to the lab, reinforcing how big and serious this place is.

🎨 Art Style

Black-and-white manga illustration

Heavy use of screentone for depth

Strong industrial textures

Clean but dense linework

No exaggerated sci-fi glow

Realistic near-future technology

🎭 Mood

Overwhelming scale.
Hidden knowledge.
A place built over years for something dangerous and important.

🚫 Negative Prompt

No chibi style, no fantasy magic, no bright cyberpunk neon, no known characters, no cartoon proportions, no text bubbles.

A teenage boy walking on a city street, car approaching fast, shocked expression, motion blur, dramatic manga style, black & white, high tension, cinematic angle”
Teen floating in darkness surrounded by swirling light, ethereal energy around him, confused expression, thought bubble: ‘Where… am I?’ manga style, black & white, mystical aura”
Baby boy reborn in luxurious noble family chamber, wrapped in blanket, soft expression, parents holding him proudly, elders watching in awe, manga style, black & white, light beams from ceiling”
“Close-up of baby’s face, curious wide eyes, thought bubble: ‘I… I’m small? Where am I?’ manga style, black & white, cute mischievous expression”
Golden aura shining around baby’s chest and forehead, light rays from above, soft glowing effect, elders and parents amazed, manga style, black & white, cinematic lighting, divine atmosphere”
Mother smiles holding baby, father stands proudly, elders whispering in background, manga style, black & white, soft shading, dialogue bubble: ‘A rare child, blessed by heaven’”
Close-up of baby’s tiny smirk, mischievous eyes, looking at parents and elders, manga style, black & white, subtle humorous expression, thought bubble: ‘Heh… I wonder what fun I can have here’”
Wide shot of noble chamber, sunlight streaming through windows, baby in crib, parents and elders around, soft shadows, manga style, black & white, cinematic composition”
Glowing small orb or artifact on shelf near baby, faint magical aura, baby reaching toward it curiously, manga style, black & white, dynamic angle”
Close-up of elder faces, surprised and worried, manga style, black & white, subtle dramatic shading, thought bubble: ‘This child… is unusual’”
Tiny Qi energy pulse radiates from baby as he touches artifact, floating papers and scrolls in room, manga style, black & white, expressive energy lines, dynamic panel
Wide exterior shot of noble manor, morning sunlight, heavenly rays shining down on baby chamber, soft clouds, manga style, black & white, epic cinematic feel, caption: ‘Thus begins the Mischief Heir’s story’”

Style:
Colored, mature realistic manga.
Natural tones, cinematic lighting. No over-romantic effects.

Layout: 4 panels.

⸻

Panel 1 (Top – wide highway shot)

White Kia Sorento driving from Utena to Vilnius.
Late afternoon / early evening light.

Caption:

He drove to see me.

⸻

Panel 2 (Small insert panel)

Minimal map: Utena → Vilnius.

Small caption:

Distance was just a number.

⸻

Panel 3 (Wide interior – Akropolis shopping mall, Vilnius)

Crowded shopping mall atmosphere.
They see each other for the first time.
Slight pause. Subtle nervous tension.

Small text in the corner:

November 29
Akropolis shopping mall, Vilnius

⸻

Panel 4 (Closer shot)

Eye contact.
Soft expressions.
No physical contact yet.

Caption:

First “hi” in person.

The Girl Who Could See Feelings

In a world that looks completely normal, a quiet girl lives with a strange ability—she can see human emotions as physical creatures attached to people. Anger burns like restless fire beasts, sadness clings as heavy shadow figures, and happiness flutters like soft glowing birds. Because of this, she keeps her distance from everyone, overwhelmed by the chaos of emotions around her. One day, she notices a boy walking through the crowd with nothing attached to him—no creature, no emotion, just emptiness. Drawn by curiosity and unease, she starts observing him, only to realize that his emotions are not gone but deeply suppressed, locked away somewhere inside him. As she slowly gets closer, cracks begin to form, and the hidden emotions start emerging violently, threatening to consume him. Now she must decide whether to step back like always or stay and face the storm she can clearly see but he cannot.

🕰️ You Owe the Clock

A girl struggling with regret and missed chances discovers that she can ask for more time—extra moments to fix mistakes, redo conversations, and change outcomes. At first, it feels like a miracle, as everything begins to go her way. But soon, she starts noticing strange things: clocks around her begin to glitch, shadows stretch unnaturally, and certain moments feel… stolen. She eventually meets a boy who seems detached from time itself, someone who knows exactly what she’s experiencing. He reveals the truth—time is never given freely; it is borrowed from their own future. Every extra second she gains now is a piece of her life being taken away later. As the world around them begins to distort and their existence slowly weakens, they realize they are both trapped in a system where time itself demands repayment. The more they try to fix their lives, the closer they move toward losing them entirely.

🧠 The Space Between Us

Two strangers begin experiencing the same strange phenomenon: at random moments, reality around them shifts into a surreal, silent dimension where the world feels incomplete, like a broken version of itself. In this space, they meet each other long before they ever meet in real life. At first, they think it’s just a dream, but the consistency of these encounters proves otherwise. As their connection deepens, they begin to depend on this shared world—one sees it as an escape from reality, while the other fears it is slowly replacing it. When they finally meet in the real world, things don’t align the way they should. One of them feels real, grounded, and present… while the other seems slightly out of place, like they belong more to the other dimension. As the boundaries between worlds begin to blur, the terrifying possibility emerges: what if only one of them truly exists, and the other is just a creation of the space between?

🪞 The Reflection That Stayed

A girl living a quiet, emotionally restrained life begins to notice small changes in her reflection—it lingers a second too long, moves slightly out of sync, and sometimes watches her instead of copying her. At first, she ignores it, assuming it’s just her imagination, but the reflection grows bolder. One day, it doesn’t follow her movement at all. Soon after, she starts seeing it outside the mirror, walking in places she hasn’t been, interacting with people she avoids. Slowly, people around her begin responding more to this version of her than to her real self. The reflection is everything she is not—confident, expressive, and unafraid. As her own presence begins to feel weaker and less noticeable, she realizes that the reflection isn’t just copying her life—it is replacing her. The truth becomes clear: the reflection is the version of herself she buried long ago, now breaking free and taking the life she was too afraid to live.

🌑 The Boy Without Light

In a world where every person is accompanied by a shadow that subtly moves and reacts on its own, a girl begins to notice something unusual—her own shadow is behaving differently. It lags behind, stretches unnaturally, and sometimes moves without her. One day, it leads her toward a boy who has no shadow at all. His presence feels incomplete, almost unnatural, as if something essential is missing. As she continues to encounter him, shadows around the city begin to disappear, leaving people strangely hollow and disconnected. Her own shadow grows more independent, almost protective, as if trying to warn her. Eventually, she uncovers the hidden truth: shadows are not just reflections—they are fragments of identity, slowly being taken by something unseen. The boy without a shadow may not be a victim… but the cause. Now she must decide whether to trust him or follow the silent warnings of the only part of herself that sees the truth—her shadow.

The neon sign above the trailer buzzed with the irritable hum of a dying insect. It read Ground support, thought the 'U' in ground was flickering out, Leaving the company to announce itself as Grond Support. It fit the aesthetic of the surrounding yard, which was a graveyard of rust excavators, Coils of orange conduit and piles of gravel that looked like forgotten burial mounds. Alex Barry stood at the Chain-link gate, the dust of three state lines coating his black cowboy boots. He was twenty-one, but the shadows under his eyes belonged to a man twice his age. He ran a hand through his short, cropped black hair, wincing as his shirt sleeve rode up. The ink on his forearm, a jagged tribal design he'd gotten in a basement parlor in New Mexico. Hidden again as he yanked the fabric down. He wasn't dealing today, He wasn't running packages. He was trying to vanish and the best place to disappear was beneath the earth.
He pushed open the door to the office trailer. The air conditioning hit him like a physical blow, smelling of stale coffee and toner. “We aren’t buying whatever your selling, kid.” a voice rasped from behind a desk that looked more like a barricade of paperwork. Shane, the owner sat there like a toad on a lily pad. Squeezed into a polo shirt so tight and pristine white that it looked like it had been painted onto his soft, round torso. He didn't look up from his spreadsheet, his pen tapping a frantic rhythm. “I'm not selling,” Alex said his voice rough from days of silence. “I'm looking for work. Sign out front says you need laborers.” Shane finally looked up his eyes narrowing as they swept over Alex. He took in the dust, the nervous energy the way Alex stood with his weight on his back foot, ready to bolt. “I need laborers, Not liabilities. You got a rap sheet? You look like you got a rap sheet. I don't pay for insurance risks.” Alex clenched his jaw. “I work hard. I don't ask questions. That's my resume.” Shane waved his hand. “Get lost,” Returning to his papers. “Go peddle your drama somewhere else. This is a respectable establishment.
Alex turned to leave, his hand gripping the doorknob. It was the same old story. The world saw the grim on him and assumed he was trash. He was about to step back out into the scorching heat when the light in the doorway was suddenly eclipsed. A mountain of a man blocked the exit. This was steel At forty-four, he was a wall of muscle and scar tissue, wearing biker boots that clunked heavily against the cheap linoleum. He had to duck to enter the trailer, his presence immediately sucking the oxygen out of the room. He smelled of diesel and wet earth. Steel looked down at Alex. It wasn't a glare, It was an inspection. He looked at Alex's face, then down to the dusty cowboy boots. “Nice boots,” Steel rumbled. His voice sounded like gravel tumbling inside a cement mixer. Alex didn't flinch “They walk fine.” Steel smirked, a terrifying expression that somehow reached his eyes, He looked past Alex to the man at the desk. “Hire him, Shane.” Shane sputtered, his face turning a shade of indignity pink. “Steel, look at him! Hes a stray. Probably steal the copper wire first chance he gets.” Steel steps closer to the desk. “Kid wears boots like that, he ain't running from work,” Steel said just as another figure steps inside. If steel was a mountain, Mathew was the sapling growing on the cliff edge. The Nineteen Year old squeezed past Steel. Carrying a hydraulic pump over his shoulder with effortless, wiry strength. Long blond hair flowed out from under a hardhat that had been modified with a wide brim, making it like a plastic Stetson. “Morning,Shane! Morning, Steel!” Mathew chirped, his smile bright enough to crack the cynical atmosphere and eyes as red as a lava pit. He dumped the pump on the floor and looked at Alex. “Who's the fresh meat?” “This is Alex,” Steel said deciding the matter was settled. “Hes on the shovel crew.” Shane slams his hand on his desk. “I didn't agree to this!” Steel just crosses his massive arms, not even phased by Shane's outburst. “We're down two guys on the sewer lateral downtown. Unless you want to come down into the trench and hold the shoring Shane?” Shane paled at the thought of actual labor. He grumbled, pulling a clipboard from the stack. “Fine, Minimum wage. No benefits and if you die, you're fired before the ambulance gets there. Fill this out.”
Alex took the clipboard. His hands were shaking slightly, not from fear but from the sudden jarring realization that he had stopped moving. He looked at Steel, who was watching him with a knowing intensity. “Ever dig a hole, Alex?” Steel asked. “I've dug plenty,” Alex said quietly. Mostly to hide things sometimes to hide himself. “Good,” Steel clapped a hand on Alex's shoulder, the weight of it nearly buckling the young mans knees. “Because that's what we do, We fix the rot underneath the city so the people up top can pretend the ground is solid. Welcome to the Family, Kid.” Mathew tipped his hardhat. “Don't worry Alex, stick with me. I'm a prodigy. I'll teach you the art of mud.” Alex looked at the three of them- The mister, The giant and the farm boy. It was a circus, a freak show of underground construction. But he looked at the pen in his hand, Alex realized for the first time in five years he wasn't holding a weapon or a bag of product. He was holding a future.

The glass walls of the fifty-second floor boardroom trapped heat like a greenhouse. Outside, the October sun hung low and unforgiving in a cloudless sky, casting long shadows across the polished table where twelve people sat, not speaking. They were strangers fashioned into colleagues by corporate necessity, each one holding their breath a little longer than natural, each one aware of being silently assessed by the others.

In corporate America, the watching began long before the speaking. It was a dance of eyes—quick, darting glances followed by studied indifference. A man at the far end tapped his pen against the rim of his coffee cup, the sound precise and mechanical. A woman near the door folded the corner of her presentation notes, creasing it with her fingernail, then unfolding it, then folding it again. Small betrayals of nerves that everyone noticed and no one acknowledged.

They waited for the meeting to begin, for someone to break the silence that had stretched like an elastic band between them. The tension wasn‘t personal—it was structural, built into the very architecture of ambition. In places like this, people became careful studies of one another: the way a colleague‘s smile didn’t reach their eyes, how another‘s handshake lingered a moment too long, the slight tremor in a supervisor’s voice when discussing quarterly projections.

The human mind was designed to notice patterns, to sort signal from noise. In the corporate wilderness, this instinct sharpened to a knife’s edge. They watched for weakness the way wolves watched for limping deer.

A woman in charcoal gray—her suit expensive but not ostentatious—checked her watch, the gesture so subtle it might have been a twitch. The room registered it anyway, a collective awareness that time was being measured. She had mastered the art of presence without performance, of being seen without seeming to seek attention. In the strange economy of office politics, this was a rare and valuable currency.

Across the room, a man sat perfectly still. His stillness was different from the frozen anxiety of the others; it was deliberate, practiced, the stillness of someone who had learned that motion often revealed more than it accomplished. He watched the room with eyes that missed nothing and gave away less. When he blinked, it seemed deliberate, as if even this involuntary function had been brought under his control.

Outside the windows, the city spread out like a circuit board, connections running between glass towers, power flowing invisibly between nodes of influence. Inside, the air conditioning hummed at the edge of hearing, a white noise that covered the sound of breath, of swallowing, of the small adjustments people made in their seats as they waited.

People existed in layers. The surface layer was what they showed in meetings like this—composed, professional, appropriate. Beneath that lay the calculations, the chess moves planned three steps ahead. And deeper still were the private histories that shaped each person’s reactions, the accumulated weight of past failures and successes, the scars and hopes they carried silently beneath their skin.

Sometimes the layers bled into each other. Sometimes a crack formed in the careful facade, and something true leaked out—a flash of genuine anger, a moment of unexpected vulnerability, a laugh that wasn’t carefully modulated for the corporate environment. These moments were rare and often missed, except by those who had trained themselves to notice.

The quality of attention varied from person to person. Some watched others only for what they could use or avoid. Some watched out of habit, a defensive posture developed through years of professional survival. And some—the rarest kind—watched with a genuine curiosity about the complex interior lives behind the professional masks.

In the boardroom, a phone buzzed. The sound cut through the silence like a knife, and twelve pairs of eyes reflexively checked their devices, though only one had received a message. This momentary disruption released something in the room. A man cleared his throat. A woman straightened a stack of papers that was already straight. They were grateful for the small permission to move, to exist a little more fully in their bodies.

The door opened. The CEO walked in, followed by two assistants carrying tablets and folders. The atmosphere shifted instantly, everyone sitting straighter, faces arranging themselves into expressions of attentive interest. This, too, was a performance—the showing of appropriate deference, the telegraphing of engagement.

“I apologize for the delay,” the CEO said, though he did not sound apologetic. His voice filled the room without being particularly loud. “Shall we begin?”

The meeting proceeded as meetings do—information exchanged, points raised and addressed, decisions deferred to future discussions. But beneath the agenda items and action points, other exchanges were taking place. Trust was being assessed. Alliances were forming and dissolving. People were making calculations about one another based on tone of voice, choice of words, micro-expressions that flashed across faces like summer lightning.

As the meeting concluded, people gathered their things, breaking into smaller groups, voices suddenly lighter, postures more relaxed. The performance of the boardroom was over; a different, less formal performance began. They laughed at small jokes, made plans for lunch, complained about the traffic or the weather.

In this transition space between formal meeting and return to their offices, something unexpected happened. The still man and the woman in charcoal gray both reached for the same door at the same time. Their fingers brushed, and though neither reacted visibly, something passed between them—a moment of mutual recognition, perhaps, or simply an awareness of another human being, solid and real in a world of carefully maintained appearances.

They had never spoken. They worked in different departments, moved in different circles within the corporate ecosystem. But in that small moment of contact, each recognized something in the other—a similar quality of attention, perhaps, or a shared understanding of the elaborate theater playing out around them each day.

Neither acknowledged it. The woman nodded politely and stepped back. The man opened the door and held it, the gesture neither servile nor condescending, simply practical. They went their separate ways.

But something had changed, though neither could have said exactly what. A connection had formed, tenuous as a spider’s thread but present nonetheless. In the vast, impersonal machinery of corporate life, such connections were both rare and essential—small reminders of humanity in places designed to minimize its unpredictable effects.

The afternoon sun slanted through the city’s towers, turning the glass to fire. In a thousand offices, a thousand conversations continued. People watched and were watched, spoke and were spoken to, each one carrying their private histories like stones in their pockets, each one hungry for moments of genuine connection in a world built of strategic interactions.

CLIMATE X INDIGENOUS VOICES
MAGAZINE EDITION – 2025 HIGHLIGHTS
OPENING NOTE

2025 has been a defining year for Climate X Indigenous Voices — a year of deep listening, bold experimentation, and continent-wide action against climate disinformation. From grassroots fieldwork to global information integrity frameworks, this project has cemented itself as one of Africa’s leading voices on climate truth, Indigenous knowledge, and digital resilience.
This edition captures the milestones, stories, and sparks that shaped our journey.

FEATURE I — Foundations of a Movement
Project Foundations & Ethical Community Partnerships

Our year began where all great stories do — on the ground. Core teams were formed across Zimbabwe, Uganda, Kenya and regional media hubs, with contracts, TORs, and workflow structures firmly established.
Early engagement with Indigenous partners — including the Tjwa community and others — ensured ethical collaboration, transparent consent, and storytelling shaped with communities, not about them.

FEATURE II — Investigating the Climate Lie Machine
Grassroots Disinformation Research

In Matabeleland North, our field teams completed a landmark study with the Tjwa community. The research reveals how climate disinformation impacts resource access, daily decision-making, and community adaptation.
These findings now anchor our content pipeline — from animations to community exhibitions — and the full report will be released on our public document-sharing platform.

Africa Climate Disinformation Toolkit

The continent’s first integrated guide to climate misinformation has been finalised. Led by an information integrity expert, the toolkit documents:

Recurring myths

Localised misinformation patterns

Platform-driven manipulation

Emerging online climate narratives

Launching this December via webinar, the Toolkit already informs youth trainings and content strategy. It will be publicly accessible for download and reading.

FEATURE III — Art as Resistance
Art-Driven Dissemination Strategy

From murals to exhibitions, 2025 strengthened the role of art in climate truth-telling. Community artists partnered with us to transform research into accessible, culturally rooted visual storytelling.
A centerpiece was the exhibition inspired by The Last Forest documentary, showcased at the Green Cities Expo in September.

FEATURE IV — Nurturing the Next Generation of Climate Truth Creators
Green Media Accelerator: Fake News Fighters Track

In Nairobi, the Green Media Accelerator launched a dedicated track for Fake News Fighters (FNF) — now one of Africa’s leading climate information integrity models.
Through mentorship, fact-checking skills, and seed funding, FNF empowered young media innovators to produce verified, creative responses to climate lies.

INFORMATION INTEGRITY HIGHLIGHTS
Positioning Africa in the Global Info Integrity Landscape

2025 saw FNF align with the UNESCO Declaration for Information Integrity in the Public Sphere, marking a milestone for African-driven climate truth models.
In 2026, FNF will contribute directly to shaping the world’s first Climate Information Integrity Framework, anchoring African solutions in global policy spaces.

Fake News Fighters Bootcamps – Kenya & Uganda

Using UKWELI as the core tool, two bootcamps trained 30 young creators to:

Fact-check climate misinformation

Detect platform manipulations

Produce counter-narratives

Map the real-world impacts of false climate stories

These creators now feed into a continent-wide content pipeline.

FEATURE V — Content, Storytelling & Digital Resistance
Voices Rooted Podcast

Production of the first episodes began this month. Key recordings include:

Dr. Albert K. Barume, UN Special Rapporteur on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples

Indigenous leaders and frontline climate defenders

The podcast positions Indigenous wisdom at the centre of Africa’s climate discourse.

Hope Not Heat! — Log Off The Lies Digital Campaign

Bold. Satirical. Youth-driven.
Log Off The Lies has become our strongest weapon against climate misinformation.

Highlights:

Infomercial launched in October — 2 million views

Hero content released last week — 1.8 million views

Youth social storm platform launched — 100+ engagements and counting

Humour + fact-checking = sharper climate awareness among youth audiences

This campaign now shapes the continent’s conversation on online climate manipulation.

Influencer Travel Vlogs

Travel and contracting with leading African vloggers is underway. Their content — spotlighting Indigenous adaptation stories — will be released early next year for wider impact.

Documentary Production

In Zimbabwe:
Filming completed in August.
Trailer for The Last Forest reached 2.5 million views.
Festival submissions are being prepared for 2026.

In Uganda:
Filming has begun, expanding the documentary footprint across the region.

A major national event is planned to engage policy makers on Indigenous Peoples' Rights, Conservation, FPIC and Extractive Industries.

FEATURE VI — Youth Creativity & Climate Knowledge
Climate Fake News Smackdown

This creative competition invited youth to challenge climate myths.
Three winners — one each from Zimbabwe, Kenya and Uganda — are now producing myth-busting content for release this month.

Climate Facts Animations

Three animated explainers are in production:

Episode 1 releases on 10 December

Episode 2 is complete

Episode 3 follows early next year

These animations demystify climate disinformation for youth audiences.

FEATURE VII — Growing a Continental Network
Africa Climate Labs Network

Content hubs across East and Southern Africa are collaborating to build an Africa-wide front against climate disinformation.
2026 will deepen:

Joint content planning

Regular reporting

Skill exchanges

Coordinated distribution strategies

Mid-term M&E is tracking reach, narrative shifts, and behaviour change across communities.

SPECIAL RECOGNITION
Fake News Fighters Wins Amnesty International Zimbabwe Award

FNF received the Digital Creativity Award, affirming that information integrity is fundamental to climate justice.
Without reliable information, communities cannot defend their rights, advocate for policy change, or hold powerful actors accountable.

LOOKING AHEAD — 2026 AND BEYOND

Next year, Climate X Indigenous Voices pivots from standalone outputs to continent-wide narrative influence.

Key Priorities for 2026

Expanding UKWELI’s integration into broader African dialogues on climate truth and Indigenous resilience

Strengthening the Fake News Fighters track for Zimbabwean and Tanzanian innovators

Documentary production in Kenya and Tanzania

A refreshed, more dynamic phase of the Hope Not Heat! campaign

Strategic release of delayed content to maximise engagement

2026 will be the year the project scales from impactful storytelling to movement-level influence.

Chapter 1
Ang bahay namin ay laging masigla—o sa ibang salita, laging maingay. The walls were painted a deep, passionate red, matched by the heavy crimson curtains that swayed whenever the electric fan faced their direction. It was a house that felt like a constant celebration, but today, my heart was racing for a different reason.
I was sitting on the edge of the sofa, my phone clutched so tightly in my hands that my knuckles were turning white. I was waiting.
Sa totoo lang, simpleng pangarap lang naman ang gusto ko: to travel, to see the world, and to wear that crisp uniform of a Tourism student. I had taken the entrance exams for the two biggest universities in the city. My dream schools.
Ting.
Isang notification ang lumabas sa screen. My breath hitched. With shaking fingers, I tapped the email.
“We regret to inform you…”
The words blurred. Hindi ako nakapasa. Ang unang school na inaasahan ko, tinanggihan ako. Parang biglang gumuho ang mundo ko sa limang salitang iyon.
"O, Jaquilyn? Bakit parang nakakita ka ng multo riyan?" puna ni Tito Rey habang naglalakad bitbit ang isang tumpok ng labada.
Pilit akong ngumiti, pero ramdam ko ang panginginig ng labi ko. "Tito... yung email. Hindi po ako nakuha sa unang school."
Agad na lumabas si Tita Precy mula sa kusina, bitbit ang sandok na may bakas pa ng sarsa. "Hala, anak? Hayaan mo na 'yun! Baka hindi talaga 'yun ang para sa'yo."
"Pero Tita, pangarap ko po 'yun," bulong ko.
Lumapit sa akin si Tito Rey at tinapik ang balikat ko. "Naku, Jaquilyn, huwag kang mawalan ng pag-asa. Napakaraming bituin sa langit, hindi lang isa. At saka, may isa pa tayong hinihintay, 'di ba? Fighting lang!"
"Oo nga!" dagdag ni Tita Precy habang tumatawa. "Tourista ka pa rin sa paningin namin, kahit sa kanto lang tayo mamasyal mamaya. Ngumiti ka na, baka pumangit ang swerte!"
I forced a laugh. Their energy was contagious, as always.
Isang panibagong araw ang lumipas, pero ang bigat sa dibdib ko, tila lalong nadagdagan. Nang tumunog ang phone ko para sa pangalawang pagkakataon, mabilis ko itong binuksan, hoping for a miracle. Pero pagkakita ko sa screen, parang nanlamig ang buong katawan ko.
It was identical. The same formal font, the same polite rejection. “We regret to inform you...” Hindi ako makapaniwala. Tourism was my dream, my only plan. Napasandal ako sa pader ng kwarto ko, pinipigilan ang luha. Bakit parang lahat ng pinto, isinasara sa akin?
________________________
Nang sumapit ang hapunan, pilit akong lumabas ng kwarto. The dining table was a battlefield of noise, as usual. My younger cousins were chasing each other with spoons, habang si Tito Rey ay malakas na tumatawa sa kung anong biro sa TV.
"Jaquilyn, kain na! Paborito mo 'tong ulam," sigaw ni Tita Precy mula sa dulo ng lamesa.
Umupo ako, tahimik lang na nilalaro ang kanin sa plato ko. Maski ang ingay nila, hindi magawang itago ang lungkot ko. Napansin siguro ni Tita ang matagal kong pagtitig sa kawalan. Bigla siyang tumigil sa pagkain at may kinuhang kung ano sa bulsa ng duster niya.
"Anak, wag ka nang masyadong malungkot sa dalawang school na 'yun," sabi niya nang mahinahon. Inilapag niya ang isang itim na card sa tapat ng plato ko. It was sleek, dark, and felt strangely heavy. "Subukan mo ito. May tumawag sa akin, sabi nila, bagay ka raw dito."
Binasa ko ang nakasulat. Isang numero at isang email address lang ang nandoon: luminaacademy@gmail.com.
"Lumina Academy?" bulong ko. "Para sa Tourism din ba 'to, Tita?"
Ngumiti si Tita Precy, isang ngiting tila may halong misteryo. "Sabi nila, doon mo raw mahahanap ang tunay mong tatahakin. At least, you can still pursue your dream career, right?"
Huminga ako nang malalim. Kahit hindi ko alam kung anong klaseng school ito, nabuhayan ako ng loob. I smiled back at her, feeling a spark of hope. "Sige po, Tita. I-email ko po sila mamaya."
"Mabuti 'yan. Tawagan mo rin ang Mama mo, ibalita mo sa kanya," dagdag ni Tita.
Agad akong umiling, ang ngiti ko ay bahagyang kumupas. "Naku, Tita, busy po si Mama sa abroad. Alam niyo naman po 'yun, baka makaabala lang ako."
Sanay na ako. I was raised in my auntie’s presence. My mom was always working far away, and my dad? I didn't know anything about him. Every time I asked, my relatives would go silent or change the topic. I guessed they hated him, so I stopped asking a long time ago.
Pagkatapos ng ligpitin ang hapunan, mabilis akong pumasok sa kwarto ko. I opened my laptop and typed the email address from the black card.
To: luminaacademy@gmail.com
Subject: Admission Inquiry - Jaquilyn Braush
I hit send and leaned back on my pillow. While waiting for the notification, my eyelids started to feel heavy. The red walls of my room seemed to glow a bit brighter in the dark, and the scent of smoke—faint, almost like a dying candle—filled the air.
Hindi ko na namalayang nakatulog na pala ako, bitbit ang huling pag-asa na baka sa Lumina Academy, doon magsisimula ang lahat.
Nagising ako sa sikat ng araw na tumatama sa mukha ko. Sa sobrang antok ko kagabi, halos makalimutan ko na ang tungkol sa email na ipinadala ko. Dumiretso ako sa kusina para mag-almusal nang datnan ko si Tita Precy na nag-aabang na pala sa akin.
"O, Jaquilyn? Kumusta 'yung card na binigay ko sa 'yo kagabi? Na-email mo ba?" tanong niya habang nag-aayos ng plato.
Napatigil ako. Oo nga pala. Biglang nag-vibrate ang phone ko sa bulsa. My heart started to race. Kinuha ko ito at nakita ang isang notification mula sa Lumina Academy. Shaking, I opened it.
OFFICIAL ADMISSION NOTICE
Dear Ms. Jaquilyn Braush,
We have been watching your spirit, and it burns with the intensity we require. You are officially accepted into Lumina Academy.
To begin your journey, you must claim your belongings. Follow the attached map to the 'Red Brick Nexus' building in the Old District. This location is hidden from the mundane eye—walk three blocks past the clock tower and turn where the air feels warmest.
Once inside, proceed directly to the door marked with your designated number. There, you will find your ID card, your uniforms, and the key to your assigned dormitory.
"Tita! Tita, tanggap ako!" sigaw ko habang tumutulo ang luha ko sa tuwa. Halos magtatalon kami sa kusina habang binabasa ang direksyon. Hindi ko alam kung bakit kailangan ko pang pumunta sa isang lumang building para lang sa gamit, pero sa sandaling iyon, wala akong pakialam.

Habang nasa biyahe ako, hindi ko mapigilang mapatawa. Seryoso ba 'to? I thought it was a scam! Ang bilis ng reply nila, hindi katulad ng ibang university na pinaghintay ako ng ilang linggo para lang tanggihan. At ang direksyon? "Turn where the air feels warmest?" Gusto kong maiyak sa tawa dahil parang laro lang ang lahat. What kind of school has these weird rules?
Pero nang makarating ako sa dulo ng map, tumigil ang tawa ko. The building was exactly as described—matayog, luma, pero may kakaibang bigat ang aura.
Pagpasok ko, isang grand view ang sumalubong sa akin. The lobby was massive. People in expensive-looking suits were walking everywhere, but they didn't look like office workers—they looked like they were guarding something important.
Hinanap ko ang taong pwedeng pagtanungan hanggang sa makita ko ang isang babaeng naka-formal uniform na kulay yellowish-gold. Lumapit ako at ipinakita ang email ko.
"Excuse me po, student po ako ng Lumina Academy..."
The woman’s eyes widened the moment she saw my name on the screen. She looked shook, her breath hitching for a second. Without a word, she bowed slightly and looked at me.
“Ms. Braush," she said. "Please... follow me. We have been waiting for you to arrive."
Habang naglalakad kami sa mahabang hallway, ipinaliwanag niya sa akin ang tungkol sa numerong nasa message ko.
“Ang numerong iyon ay hindi lang basta numero, Ms. Jaquilyn. It is the number of the door you must enter here in this building. Sa loob ng kwartong iyon, nandoon ang lahat ng pag-aari mo—ang uniform, at ang susi ng kwarto mo Academy. Ang building”
Huminto kami sa tapat ng isang asul na pinto. It was unusually small, barely enough for a child to fit through, but when she opened it, there it was—isang itim na bag at isang itim na envelope. It looked mysterious, like it held secrets I wasn't ready for. I reached out and took them, feeling the heavy material against my palms.
"Sundan mo ako. Dadalhin na kita sa bus mo ngayon," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.
"Sandali lang po!" I replied, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Kailangan ko munang magpaalam sa Tita ko. I can’t just leave like this without saying anything."
"Huwag kang mag-alala. Kami na ang bahala sa parteng iyon," was her only cold response.
Agad kong kinuha ang phone ko at tinawagan si Tita habang naglalakad kami. "Tita! Paalis na po ako—hindi ko alam kung saan—"
"Jaquilyn, anak, okay lang!" she cut me off, sounding surprisingly calm. "May mga taga-Lumina Academy na rito sa bahay. Nag-explain na sila tungkol sa scholarship at kung bakit kailangan mong umalis agad ngayong araw. Mag-iingat ka roon, ha? Ipagmalaki mo kami!"
I let out a huge sigh of relief. At least legal ang pag-alis ko. When we reached the parking lot, I saw a pure white bus. There were a few people my age already inside, their faces unreadable. Sinubukan kong ngumiti sa kanila, but one guy with sharp brown eyes looked at me like he wanted to punch me right then and there. Luh, mananapak ba 'to? I quickly looked away and found a seat.
A few moments later, the driver entered the bus. "Fasten your seatbelts," he muttered without looking back.
Mabilis akong sumunod, pulling the strap across my chest. But I noticed the others didn't even flinch. Para silang walang narinig, acting like they were too cool for safety rules. The trip started normally for a few minutes... then the bus slowed down for a split second... and then it accelerated. Sobrang bilis. It was so fast I felt like my heart was left behind at the station.
I looked out the window and gasped, my breath hitching in my throat. I couldn't see the road anymore. Clouds. Pure white clouds were everywhere, drifting past the glass. And shortly after, I saw the vast blue ocean below us and a massive school that looked like an ancient palace from a fairy tale.
"What the—nakalutang tayo?! We're floating!" I panicked, my hands gripping the armrest so hard my knuckles turned white.
"Tanga," one of my seatmates whispered, rolling their eyes. Instead of helping me or explaining, they just called me stupid.
The bus eventually descended, landing smoothly in front of the grand, golden gates. It felt like we were back in the normal world, but my stomach definitely didn't get the memo. As soon as the doors opened, I stumbled out and started vomiting on the side of the road. Nag-suka lang ako nang nag-suka.
"Grabe... what a terrible start," I groaned, wiping my mouth with a trembling hand. My dream of being a Tourism student started with me literally losing my lunch on the pavement. Ang panget naman ng simula ko.

Black and white manga-style panel showing a dramatic falling perspective from a tall building, with a blurred cityscape far below. Strong radial motion blur and speed lines rushing downward toward the center, creating a sense of extreme height and panic. No clear character body visible, only a partial silhouette at the edge of the frame to imply falling. Clean monochrome manga line art, high contrast, intense motion effects.
Two small white speech bubbles near the top of the panel contain the English text:
“Huh?” and “This…”
One large white speech bubble dominating the lower part of the panel contains bold, handwritten manga-style text:
“Aaaaaaa!!!!
NOOOO!!!!!

Negative Prompt:
color, grayscale shading, soft lighting, calm atmosphere, character standing, clear facial details, multiple characters, flat perspective

Black and white manga-style illustration of a young male character falling forward from a tall building, body positioned almost horizontally, not vertical. The character is leaning forward mid-air, as if being thrown off balance, with one arm stretched forward and the other trailing behind, legs angled backward. Camera angle is side view / three-quarter view, positioned parallel to the character, not top-down. His hair flows backward due to air resistance, eyes wide in shock, mouth open. The cityscape appears far below and slightly blurred to emphasize height and motion. Strong speed lines flowing backward only. Clean monochrome manga lineart, dramatic perspective. A white speech bubble near his head contains the text: “Ah, Shit.”

Negative prompt: vertical falling pose, skydiving pose, spread arms, T-pose, front-facing fall, top-down camera, floating pose, superhero landing, arms fully extended sideways

Black and white manga-style illustration of a young male character falling forward from a tall building, body positioned almost horizontally, not vertical. The character is leaning forward mid-air, as if being thrown off balance, with one arm stretched forward and the other trailing behind, legs angled backward. Camera angle is side view / three-quarter view, positioned parallel to the character, not top-down. His hair flows backward due to air resistance, eyes wide in shock, mouth open. The cityscape appears far below and slightly blurred to emphasize height and motion. Strong speed lines flowing backward only. Clean monochrome manga lineart, dramatic perspective. A white speech bubble near his head contains the text: “Ah, Shit.”

Negative prompt: vertical falling pose, skydiving pose, spread arms, T-pose, front-facing fall, top-down camera, floating pose, superhero landing, arms fully extended sideways

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