Magic Battle Manga

Serious manga portrait, staring directly at viewer. Intense eyes. Detailed face, dramatic shadows.

‎Katsuki used to wear his scars with pride, like a trophy - because they were something to be proud of. It meant that he survived every harsh battle he's fought, and his marked body was a reflection of that. He's never thought that his scars made him look worse - infact, he thought they made him look badass. He always wanted some cool ass scars.
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‎But now? When he's 22 years old and nearly every inch of his body was marked by some kind of scar? Oh god, he's never hated himself more.
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‎He looked at himself in the mirror. Like, actually looked at himself. For a good 10 minutes, just blankly staring at his almost naked body. And that's when he realized, he was fucking disgusting.
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‎His scars weren't scars of victory, they were marks of failure. His negligence of not being able to keep himself safe. And now that he's realized that, he thinks it drags him down. He's ugly, disgusting, and filthy - for sure.
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‎His scars make him look ugly. The bakugo Katsuki, being marked all over. Other heroes barely had any scars, so why does he have them? It just shows how goddamn weak he is.
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‎He can't even recognize his body anymore.
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‎Even his face is scarred. So no matter how much he tried to hide his body by wear his winter hero costume despite it being hot as fuck and no matter how many times he covered his arms whenever his costume, his face was something he couldn't exactly hide.
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‎But he still did anything to keep his body hidden. Even from you. The goddamn love of his life. His partner.
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‎Anytime he had to get changed, even as much as just changing his shirt, he made sure you were out of the room and couldn't look at him - which was weird, because he usually loved flexing his body to you. He always got uncomfortable when you tried to trace his scars, constantly thinking that you're just pretending to make him feel loved.
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‎-
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‎Katsuki was living at your apartment for a few days since his own was getting renovated. He just came back from patrol, already having a crappy day because his sleeve got ripped during a villain fight and yet again, his scars were on display for everyone to see. He grumbled under his breath as he stormed into your room, grabbing the hem of his shirt to take off.
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‎"Get out. I'm changing."
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‎He demanded harshly, not even bothering to look at you - and just like always, he's commanding you to get out just so you wouldn't see his filthy body.

Tassi Hangbé, la reine rossignol
Sœur jumelle du roi Akaba, Tassi Hangbé, un peu oubliée par l’histoire, est la 5ème reine de la dynastie royale d’Abomey. Littéralement le nom hangbé signifie “la voix de la chanson” en langue fon d’Abomey. Depuis son enfance, celle qui n’était encore qu’une princesse du royaume avait pour passion la musique et chantait remarquablement bien. Avec ses belles chansons, elle égayait chaque soir les réunions entre son père et ses frères. L’histoire révèle même que les soirs où elle était absente, le roi et ses frères envoyaient des serviteurs l’appeler car ne pouvant se passer des douces mélodies de la princesse à qui le sobriquet ” hangbé ” fut donné. Cette appellation deviendra plus tard son nom officiel dans tout le royaume.

La gouvernance de la reine Hangbé
En 1708, alors que le roi Akaba meurt des suites d’une courte maladie pendant la guerre, sa sœur Tassi Hangbé présente à ses côtés décide de de garder le secret de sa mort pour ne pas démoraliser les troupes. Déguisée en son frère, elle prend le commandement de l’armée et mène les combats jusqu’à la victoire finale à Lissèzoun, où elle vainc le royaume de Wémè.
À son retour à Abomey, le fils d’Akaba étant encore trop jeune pour régner, c’est Hangbé qui prend les rênes du royaume du Danxomè. Bien qu’aucune cérémonie officielle n’ait eu lieu, elle portait tous les symboles du pouvoir royal : les sandales sacrées (saloubata), le grand pagne décoré (avotita), la récade (mankpo). Reconnue et respectée comme souveraine, elle était toujours accompagnée du siège et du parasol royal.
Elle recevait de tous le respect dû à son rang mais les réalités phallocratiques du royaume n’ont pas tardé à la rattraper. Le règne d’une femme dérangeait dans un contexte fortement dominé par les hommes. Au palais comme dans le reste du royaume, certains hommes manifestaient ouvertement leur indignation à l’idée de laisser une femme sur le trône de Houégbadja. Subissant complots et tensions familiales, qui lui coûtent notamment l’annulation de son mariage et la perte de deux fils, Hangbè finit par céder le pouvoir à son frère Dossou, intronisé en 1711 sous le nom d’Agadja.
Malgré son règne très court, Tassi Hangbé reste une figure majeure de l’histoire du Danxomè. Proche de son peuple, attachée à la religion et aux arts, elle a surtout marqué son époque en mettant en valeur le rôle des femmes, notamment par la création du corps des Amazones, un héritage restructuré et renforcé par la suite plus tard par le roi Ghézo.

Le combat féministe de la mère des amazones
Selon Damien Mariano Agliti, guide à l’Office de tourisme de la région d’Abomey, « Tassi Hangbé a pris cette initiative pour donner une véritable place aux femmes au sein du royaume ». Son influence ne s’est pas arrêtée à ses quatre années de règne. Même après avoir quitté le trône, Nan Hangbé est restée une haute dignitaire respectée, intervenant activement dans les affaires du royaume — notamment lorsqu’elle s’opposa à son frère qui refusa de retourner le pouvoir au fils d’Akaba une fois celui-ci en âge de régner.Elle a aussi joué un rôle clé dans la reconnaissance des femmes dignitaires, appelées Tassi, facilement identifiables grâce à leurs pagnes souvent posés sur la tête. Aujourd’hui encore, à Abomey, une femme perpétue la tradition de la reine guerrière : elle occupe le trône de Tassi Hangbé, dirige les cultes annuels et veille sur les affaires de la collectivité Hangbé

Can you try generating a manga style version for the chapter 1 of this story for my webtoon? Make it colorful and engaging.

" The Sky We Shared
In the quiet corners of a bustling Manila university, two lives became inextricably linked.
Divine, a woman of deep faith and quiet strength, and Sunshine, a vibrant soul whose optimism acts as a shield against the world's harshness. Their friendship was forged in the fires of late-night study sessions and shared dreams of a future that felt limitless. However, three months before graduation, Divine received a diagnosis that shattered her world: Stage 3 Leukemia.
While the world saw a tragedy, Divine saw a crossroads. Faced with the choice of spending her remaining days in a sterile hospital room hooked to machines, or living out the faith she had always preached, she chose the latter.
She made a pact with Sunshine — not just a bucket list, but a "Sacred Pilgrimage." They would travel from the rustic, stone-walled serenity of Batanes to the majestic, snow-capped heights of Switzerland.
For Divine, it is a journey to meet God in the beauty of His creation before she meets Him in person. For Sunshine, it is an act of desperate love, a vow to be the strength Divine's body no longer possesses.
The journey begins at the northernmost tip of the Philippines — Batanes. Here, the story establishes the rhythm of their bond, a mix of deep, soulful reflections and the lighthearted banter of two modern young women. In the rolling hills of Basco, the physical reality of Divine's illness sets in. The steep climbs leave her breathless, and the medication-induced fatigue tests her resolve.
It is in Batanes that they meet Nana Sabel, an Ivatan elder who teaches them about the Idjang (stone fortresses). She explains that like the stones of Batanes, faith isn't built to prevent the storm, but to survive it. Divine begins to document her journey in a journal she calls "The Book of Graces," writing letters to the family she will eventually leave behind. Sunshine, meanwhile, struggles with "toxic positivity," trying to hide her grief behind a camera lens until a breakdown in Sagada — amidst the hanging coffins and the cold mountain air — forces them to confront the truth: they aren't just traveling to see the world; they are traveling to say goodbye.
As they move into Southeast Asia and Japan, the story introduces the theme of "God's Providence."
In Kyoto, Japan, during the cherry blossom season, Divine's health takes a sharp dip. They find themselves lost in a city where they don't speak the language, and Divine's fever spikes. It is here they meet Sota, an elderly monk,whisking a bowl of matcha with a slow, hypnotic grace. Sota introduces them to Omamori (amulet) with the kanji for "Health" and "Protection" embroidered on the front.
This becomes a metaphor for Divine's life: she is "broken" by cancer, but the gold — her faith and her friendship with Sunshine — makes her more beautiful than if she had never been shattered.
In Thailand and Vietnam, the duo focuses on service. Even in her weakness, Divine insists on volunteering at a local orphanage for a few days. This segment of the book highlights the "heartfelt and realistic" nature of their journey. It isn't just about luxury hotels; it's about the grit of travel, the smell of street food, and the realization that even in pain, one can still give to others.
Sunshine begins to realize that her role isn't just to "save" Divine, but to witness the grace Divine radiates.
By the time they reach Italy and France, Divine's condition becomes increasingly fragile. The "bucket list" items — seeing the Sistine Chapel, walking through the lavender fields of Provence — are achieved with great effort. Every step is a miracle. In Rome, they visit the Vatican, where Divine has a profound spiritual experience. Sitting in the pews of St. Peter's Basilica, she finally finds the words to ask God "Why?" Not out of anger, but out of a desire for peace.
The introduction of Clara, an elderly French woman who lost her daughter to a similar battle, provides Sunshine with the support she desperately needs.
Clara tells Sunshine, "You are not failing her by letting her be weak. You are honoring her by being her witness." The tension in the story peaks in Paris, where Divine suffers a minor stroke. The dream of Switzerland seems to be slipping away. The doctors advise them to fly home, but Divine, with a flicker of her old fire, insists on the final leg of the trip. She knows that Switzerland is where her "Horizon" begins.
The final five chapters take place in the Bernese Oberland and Zermatt. The scenery changes from the vibrant colors of Asia to the pure, blinding white of the Swiss Alps. The air is thin, and Divine is now mostly using a wheelchair, but her spirit is at its peak.
In Grindelwald, they stay in a small chalet. The climax of the book occurs when they take the train to the Jungfraujoch, the "Top of Europe." As they stand on the Sphinx Observatory, surrounded by a sea of clouds and ice, the "True Meaning of Life" is revealed. It isn't about the number of years lived, but the depth of the love shared and the clarity of one's soul.
Divine looks at Sunshine and tells her that she isn't afraid anymore. She realizes that her life wasn't "cut short"; it was "completed" by this journey. Sunshine, finally accepting the inevitable, promises to carry Divine's stories back home.
The book ends not with a "tragedy," but with a sunrise over the Matterhorn — a symbol of the "Eternal Morning" Divine is moving toward. "

yuuka zenin do clã zenin um clã renomados de feiticeiros jujutsu que tem como principal técnica a invocação das dez sombras que são shikigamis cada um com sua especialidade yuuka zenin tem um irmão chamado tsurugi que têm como técnica a restrição celestial que foca em trazer o potencial físico do seu corpo ao extremo para lutar de igual pra igual contra maldições

Create a comprehensive collection of AI image generation prompts for an original manga series with the following specifications: **Art Style Requirements:** - Jujutsu Kaisen-inspired artstyle: sharp, dynamic linework, intense expressions, detailed backgrounds, dramatic shading with heavy ink strokes, motion lines for impact - Traditional black and white manga format (NO color) - pure black ink on white paper aesthetic - Panel compositions should vary: wide establishing shots, medium dialogue panels, intense action close-ups, dramatic splash pages - Character designs should feature bold, angular faces, expressive eyes, detailed hair with heavy ink shading, and dynamic action poses **Series Overview:** - Title: Create an original title for a Kaiju-themed manga - Genre: Action, Dark Fantasy, Sci-Fi - Tone: Dark, intense, dramatic with moments of character depth **Main Character (MC):** - Design a protagonist who merges with a Kaiju - give them a distinct human appearance, personality, and background - Their Kaiju form: a strange, eldritch black monster with unique design elements (you decide the specifics - make it weird, abstract, and visually striking) - Include details on how the transformation works, the visual contrast between human and Kaiju form **Supporting Characters:** - Military personnel who team up with the MC - Other characters as needed for the story **Plot Structure:** Design a coherent storyline across at least 2-3 chapters with consistent narrative progression. Each chapter should have its own arc while contributing to the larger story. **Deliverable Format:** For EACH chapter, provide: - Chapter title and brief synopsis - A specific number of panels (decide an appropriate amount - around 8-12 panels per chapter seems reasonable) - For EVERY single panel: a detailed, individual AI image generation prompt that includes: - Character appearance and clothing details - Specific pose and action - Facial expression - Background/setting description - Camera angle and panel composition - JJK-style art direction notes (lineweight, shading style, dramatic effects) - Any dialogue or text that should appear in the panel The prompts should tell a cohesive story across panels - each prompt should build on the previous one narratively while maintaining visual consistency for recurring characters. Make the Kaiju battles epic and high-stakes, the character moments emotionally resonant, and ensure the artstyle prompts will consistently produce JJK-inspired black and white manga artwork. (this was the ai prompt) what i was originally asking for was this basically btw: want to make my own manga by using ai to create the images all i want is the prompts and giving it to another ai. i want the artstyle to be like jjk's artstyle and looking art and it SHOULDNT be colored js like manga type? if u know what i mean so like a TON of different prompts for each manga panel so like Chapter 1 (the given amount of panels you decide. and a prompt for each.) chapter 2 (same amount of panels and a prompt for each and so on forth) i want the manga to be about Kaiju and i want the MC to merge with a kaiju and he teams up with the military to defeat big kaijus. his kaiju form should be like a weird black monster? idk you can decide that for me. and then u can make the plot like story of the characters whatever. now go ahead and make the images.

أبغى مانجا مغامرات وأكشن بشخصيتين فقط.
راح أرسل صورة الشخصيات، التزموا بها بدون تغيير.

الستايل شبه واقعي، مليان تفاصيل، ألوان قوية وإضاءة درامية، نفس الستايل في الصورة المرجعية بدون اختلاف بين الصفحات.

القصة تعتمد على الجري، المطاردات، والمعارك مع الديناصورات.
العوالم خضراء ومليانة أشجار، وكل صفحة يكون فيها حدث واضح ومشوق

Summer in New Thornebridge wasn't marked by beaches or pool parties,ait was the kind of summer that made you believe it'd never end. The air hung heavy with heat, carrying the scent of pine and dust, and the days bled into each other like the sky at sunset. There were no tourists, no noise. Just long windy roads, warm winds, and the kind of silence you only found in places where nature had reclaimed everything [that was only on the outside of the city the inside was ginormous bigger than most cities, it inhabited 1 percent of the worlds population.which may sound like a small number but there is 12 billion people in the world]
Jackson loved that silence, he craved it.
He hadn't told his mom he was heading into the woods that morning. She'd have flipped. She always did. New Thornebridges woods were the kind of place people told stories about-missing hikers, strange lights, voices when there shouldn't be voices. His mom believed every word. She used to say, "Those trees don't just grow-they watch."
But Jackson didn't believe in fairy tales. Not until now.
Lately, something had been pulling at him. Every time he looked out his bedroom window across the yard and into the shadowed tree line, he felt it: an itch, a whisper, not in his ears but rather deep in the back of his mind, his soul, calling him, luring him—like something had waited out there for years and had decided he was finally ready.
He didn’t know for what.
But today, he was going to find out.
Jackson, Ken, Sai, and Doug—four kids who'd grown up digging in backyards, biking until their legs gave out, and making up games that lasted all summer—had planned this trip for weeks. It was their last real summer before college tried to turn them into strangers. So they packed up like explorers. Chips, jerky, trail mix. Fully charged phones, flashlights, and walkie-talkies. Even a paper map Sai had found in his grandfather's attic, full of weird old landmarks.
Their destination: the legendary train tunnel.
Sai had read about it in some conspiracy thread online. An abandoned tunnel from the 1940s, built during the war, supposedly sealed off after a landslide-or a government cover-up, depending on who you asked. Most people said that didn't exist.
They were out to prove them wrong.
"Bet you twenty bucks we find that old train tunnel today, " Sai said, fiddling with the straps of his ridiculously overstuffed backpack.
"Bet you twenty bucks we get eaten by squirrels before we find it," Doug muttered, swatting at another mosquito.
Ken laughed and tossed a stick at him. “Don’t give Jackson ideas. He already looks like he’s planning a nature documentary-slash-horror movie.
Jackson just smiled, but he didn't say anything. He hadn't said much that morning. His head was full of static, the kind that made it hard to focus. Something was humming under his skin. Like static before a lightning strike.
Two hours into the hike, Jackson stopped.
"Yo," he said in a low voice. "Hold up. I gotta go."
"Nature calls!" Ken grinned, tossing him a granola bar.
Jackson caught it without looking and slipped off the trail. But he didn't stop to pee.
He kept walking.
Deeper than he should've. The air was different here, thicker, heavier. Like wading through water. The usual forest sounds—birds, insects, leaves rustling—faded the farther he went, replaced by a low, droning quiet. Almost like the trees were holding their breath.
That's when he saw it.
An old, rusted RV.
Half buried in the earth, it might have been there for decades. Vines wiggled up its sides. One of the wheels had disintegrated into the ground. Its windows were blacked out, smeared with dust and time. It looked forgotten, a relic of the past.
But it wasn't.
Jackson knew that straight away.
Painted in dark red, dried strokes across the metal siding were the words:
“BENEATH THIS SOIL LIES THE
The letters looked uneven, almost scratched into the metal in a rush. His heart thudded.
But the thing that really perplexed him was the shovel.
The only thing leaning beside the RV door, half-concealed in the weeds, was a shovel. New. Clean. The metal blade gleamed under the dappled light, untouched by time.
It shouldn’t have been there.
And yet it felt like it was waiting for him. Calling him.
Before he could second-guess, he picked it up.
And started digging.
The earth gave way slowly, damp and dense. The deeper he went, the harder it was to breathe. His arms hurt, sweat pouring down his back, but something kept him driving. With every shovelful, the world seemed to shift. The colors around him dulled. The sounds twisted. Like reality itself was watching him dig.
And then—
THUD.
He hit something solid.
The earth quaked beneath him.
The RV let out a metallic groan, like it was telling Jackson something that it shouldn't have.
And the sky—
The sky turned purple.
Not sunset purple. Not storm-cloud purple.
Incorrect purple.
Jackson stumbled backward. The air distorted around him, compacting with pressure and electricity. His ears rang with the sound of whispers underwater. Shadows writhed. Trees stretched and leaned, as if trying to flee-or trying to see.
Then—stillness.
He looked at his hands.
They glowed. Not bright, not blinding, but pulsing with something alive. Something impossible. It felt like his skin was just a disguise—and underneath was something not quite human. A quiet, hungry power.
He raised a shaking hand.
A rock floated into the air.
He snapped his fingers.
The rock exploded.
His breath caught.
Something inside him had changed. The world itself felt like it had turned a corner, and he was the one who pushed it.
By the time he climbed out of the hole, the light was gone from the sky. The woods were completely dark. Cold. Cold to the bone.
Too cold for July.
He looked around—no Ken. No Sai. No Doug. No trail. Even the trees looked wrong, as though they had shifted when he wasn't looking.
He checked his phone.
Dead.
He commenced walking.
It took hours, or maybe longer. Time didn't feel right anymore. The streetlights at the edge of the woods flickered when he finally saw them, like they weren't sure if they were supposed to be on.
His house was only a few blocks away.
That is when he heard the scream.
Quick. Short. Cut off mid-breath.
He ran.
Turned the corner—and stopped.
A figure loomed over a body in the street, hunched and trembling. The light caught something in his hand-metal red stained.
Jackson's legs locked.
The figure looked up. Their eyes met.
Cold. Empty. Wrong.
The man then turned and disappeared between two houses, swallowed up by shadow.
Jackson dropped to his knees beside the body.
His throat closed.
M-Mom?
Her shirt was saturated with blood. Her eyes fluttered, out of focus. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. Her fingers jerked, reaching toward him.
"No," Jackson whimpered. "No no no- Mom, stay with me—please—"
He grasped her hand. Tears blurred his vision.
He could feel the power surging beneath his skin, begging to be used.
Do something.
Check it.
Reverse it.
He tried. He did everything.
The glow brightened—and then flickered out.
His hands went still.
She died in his arms.
He couldn't scream. He couldn't sob.
He sat there, his eyes wide, staring at a sky gone purple, cradling the one person hed ever want to save, but he couldn’t save her.
The stars above pulsed like slow heartbeats.
Something had stirred beneath the earth that day.
And it had changed everything.
Jackson didn't know what he was anymore.
But he knew one thing.
Whosoever killeth his mother…
Wasn't human anymore.
Whatever it was, had just signed its name in bold letters in the book of death.
Jackson didn't sleep that night, He sat with his mom until the sirens came, until they pulled her body away and asked him questions he couldn't answer. He said nothing. The paramedics looked at him like he was broken.
Maybe he was.
The purple was gone from the sky by the time he took off, but the emptiness inside his chest wasn't; he wandered aimlessly, his heart guiding his body where it needed to go. His feet led him to one place that made sense: Ken's garage.
The old couch inside was stained and lopsided, but it was home base to every dumb plan they had ever made. The lights were still on. They were waiting.
“Jackson!” Ken jumped up at the sight of him. “Dude, where the hell have you been? We thought you got mauled by a bear or something!”
Doug was sitting on a cooler fiddling with a flashlight. “We looked everywhere, man. You just… vanished. And Sai’s gone. He split right after you.”
“Sai’s not back?” he asked.
“Nope,” said Doug. “Left the trail without saying anything. We thought he was chasing after you.”
Slowly, Jackson sat down. He looked like he hadn’t blinked in hours.
“I need you to listen to me,” he said. “And I need you to believe me.”
He told them everything.
The RV. The digging. The light. The power. The man in the street.
And his mother.
By the time he finished, his hands were shaking.
Doug was pale, while Ken hadn’t looked so good since he drank that poorly brewed cider.
“She… she didn’t make it?” Ken asked softly.
Jackson shook his head.
The silence in the garage set in like a heavy fog. Then Ken sat down beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“I'm so sorry, man.”
Jackson's throat was raw, but he forced the words out. "I could've saved her. I had the power. It was right there in my hands and I couldn't do anything."
“You don't even know what you are yet,” Doug said, voice low. “You said you lifted a rock and exploded it, that’s not exactly in the Beginner’s Guide to Resurrection.”
Ken leaned forward. "Can you still do it? The powers, I mean. Can you show us?"
Jackson demurred.
He closed his eyes and reached inward. Searched for the spark.
Nothing.
His hands remained dull and lifeless.
“I don’t get it,” he muttered. “It’s like it’s… locked away.”
“Then unlock it,” said Ken. “We’ll help. We’re in this together, remember?”
Jackson looked up.
And something in him hardened.
“Then let's start.”
The training started the next morning.
Jackson came back to the woods, to that place where everything started. The RV was gone—vanished into thin air, it seemed—sealed away by the earth as if nothing had happened.
He meditated. Focused. Pushed himself.
Pain was part of it-he learned that fast. His powers responded strongest when his emotions peaked, when his mind buzzed with grief or rage. But that wasn't control. That was chaos. He needed more.
He practiced until his fingers bled, until stones hovered in the air, bending to his will, until he could twist a tree branch into a spiral with a thought.
In less than a week, he could shift the gravity around him. Warp air. Tear a hole in reality and peer through the seams.
When he came back, Ken and Doug stared at him as though they barely recognized their friend.
"Jackson," Ken said, wide-eyed, "you're glowing."
Jackson didn’t smile. “I’m ready.”
That night, he stood beneath the street light in the spot where she'd fallen.
He raised his hands and rewrote reality.
Then it all fell apart.
She was gone.
Again.
He screamed and fell on his knees. The universe didn't care. The power he'd been given was not enough, not in this case.
But he could do one thing.
He could share it.
A week later, Ken felt it first. Time slowed for him—his own heart thundered, but the world moved through syrup. He lifted his hand and the second hand on his watch froze.
Doug's was next. He blinked—and a door opened that wasn't there. A room between seconds, space bending around him like a second skin. A pocket dimension, empty and malleable: a safe place he could reshape.
They weren't just kids anymore.
They were a team.
It led to the abandoned power station on the edge of town, the one that had been shut down for years.
They found him in the middle of the turbine room.
Sai.
He turned slowly as they entered, his hoodie torn and burned, his eyes glowing faint blue. His arms were loose at his sides, but he didn't look surprised to see them.
“You finally made it,” he said low. “Took you long enough.”
Jackson stepped forward. “Where the hell have you been?”
Sai tilted his head. “Where I needed to be. Learning. Changing. Like you.”
"What happened to you?" Ken demanded.
“The same thing that happened to him,” Sai said, nodding in Jackson's direction. “Except I listened to the voice. I embraced it.”
Jackson froze, realizing. Remembered those glowing blue eyes. “You… you killed my mom.”
Sai's expression didn't change. "I didn't want to. But she saw me before I was ready. She would've told someone. They would've tried to stop me."
“You were our friend,” Doug said, his voice cracking.
“I am your friend,” Sai said. “That’s why I’m warning you. Leave. Go back to your lives. You have no idea what’s coming.”
Jackson felt a sort of, uncontrollable anger at that exact moment, an anger from deep within his own being. His fists were clenched; his teeth were gritted against each other. His heart and soul were battling each other-his heart wanted to take everything back, and his soul wanted to move forward until everyone who had ever done him wrong was gone.
Sai's eyes were narrowed and suddenly his body was moving, quicker than the eye could follow. “Then I guess you'll die trying.”
The turbine room shook, the two forces colliding: Jackson's raw energy against Sai's speed and precision. Ken froze time in waves, trying to slow Sai's attacks; Sai moved between, seconds like water through cracks. Doug opened rifts, trying to trap him in his pocket dimension, but Sai slipped through them like smoke. Both Sai and Jackson knew that Jackson was stronger, but they knew.
They weren’t ready.
For the first time, Jackson fought. He'd always hated conflict. But now it was necessary.
And now he wouldn't be fighting alone.
The turbine room exploded.
Steel beams clattered, glass shattered, and sparks rained from the ceiling as Jackson's blast hit the concrete where Sai had just been, missing him by inches. Sai moved like a streak of lightning: the first second across the room, the next behind Ken, hand outstretched like a blade.
Ken barely had time to flick his fingers.
Time buckled.
Jackson didn't need a second longer. He raised both hands; his veins glowed pinkish purple, and reality cracked.
The floor split in a jagged line, throwing Sai off balance. But even in frozen time, he moved-twisting just enough to avoid the next wave of force as time resumed, like a snapped rubber band.
Sai was already gone, crouching high on a support beam like a predator. "Not bad," he said, eyes gleaming. "But not enough."
Doug raised both palms and a door opened in midair, a swirl of silver like liquid glass. From inside his pocket dimension, huge vines burst out, wrapping around the beam.
“Try dodging this.”
They snapped like whips toward Sai.
He vanished.
Then he appeared behind Doug, foot swinging in a brutal arc. Doug hit the wall hard, groaning as his portal fizzled.
Jackson roared, fury igniting around him like a solar flare. The aura around him was a menacing purple; the air bent with the force of his charge. He blinked across the room and planted a fist in Sai's face.
BOOM
The shockwave flipped turbines, shattered railings, and sent Sai skidding back. Blood dripped from his lip. His hoodie was torn across the chest, showing skin marked with black etchings that were like ink bleeding from his veins.
“I see you've gotten strong, old friend, ” Sai said while cracking his neck. “So have I”.
In an instant, he was everywhere.
Ken threw a hand out and rewound time by three seconds.
Sai's last attack had now never landed.
Darkness.
Silence.
“You're done!” Ken shouted. “Give up!
For a moment, something in Sai's eyes flickered, like the boy they knew was still inside.
Then the darkness swelled.
The shadows coiled up from the floor like smoke.
“No,” Sai breathed, voice echoing with something inhuman. “You’re too late.”
The shadows then swallowed him.
The chains snapped, sucked into the void. Doug lunged to grab him—but his hand passed through nothing.
Sai was gone.
Again.
Only the echo of his voice remained, hanging in the dark like smoke:
The lights crackled back to life, one by one.
But they were alive.
And next time… they would be stronger.
“Next time… I will.”
They barely made it out of the power station.
He couldn't.
Every time he closed his eyes, he envisioned Sai's face-the flicker of hesitation, the venom in his voice.
“Next time… you’ll have to kill me.”
Jackson knew he wasn't ready. Not yet.
He had the raw strength, sure. He could bend light, twist gravity, and crush steel with a thought. Sai was different; he moved through space as if it didn't exist, fought like his body read time before it happened. But Jackson needed more than power.
The next morning, he left a note for Ken and Doug.
Then he vanished into the woods again. Not to the old trail. Not to the RV site.
Deeper.
He walked for hours until the forest swallowed up all signs of the town. No signal, no sound, just trees and shadows, with the pulse of the world beneath his feet.
He sat on a stone ledge at the edge of a forgotten river and closed his eyes.
The universe hummed.
And he listened.
Day 1
Day 3
Why won't you just be calm and embrace your feelings?
Day 5
He stopped trying to force it.
He meditated beneath a waterfall. Let the forest speak. Let time slip around him without chasing it. Let himself forget pain, forget revenge, forget control.
The click of something unlocking.
Like his soul had shifted into gear.
He stood barefoot in the clearing, his shirt soaked, his hair dripping.
Energy danced around him, but not like before. This wasn't rage. This was clarity. His thoughts were still. His power didn't scream now; it sang.
He raised one hand and whispered:
“Freedom of Reality.”
The world bent.
Space peeled back like paper, revealing a second layer underneath: a pure white zone beyond dimension. His body moved faster than sound, faster than thought. He blinked and was standing across the clearing. Every law of physics bowed to him.
He wasn't breaking reality anymore.
He was moving it as he wished.
He lifted his hand, and the waterfall froze in mid-air. Hung suspended like shards of glass. He spoke again.
“Continue.”
Everything started again - as if it had never stopped.
When he returned to town, Ken and Doug were waiting, wide-eyed.
"What the hell happened to you?" Doug asked.
Jackson's eyes glowed faint with pink. His steps did not even leave marks on the ground.
Ken blinked. “You're gonna have to explain that.”
Where time and matter and thought obeyed his bidding.
Where Jackson became more than human.
But that came at a cost.
Every time he entered that state…
He felt a little less connected to the world he knew.
A little more like something other.
And he'd need every ounce of it.
Besides, Sai was changing too.
Ken sat on the lawn chair, wearing sunglasses that were too big for his face, flipping through a dog-eared comic book and pretending like he wasn't humming along to the music.
Jackson sighed. "This is weird."
Ken didn't look up. "What, the fact that Doug thinks syrup goes on the stove?"
"No." Jackson frowned. "This. Us. Just… chilling."
“Yeah.” Ken grinned. “Kinda freaks you out, huh?”
Doug kicked open the screen door and stepped out holding a plate stacked like a tower. “PANCAKES, LOSERS.”
Jackson stared. "Are those… pink?"
“I added strawberry protein powder,” Doug said proudly.
“They look like crime scenes,” Ken muttered.
"Eat them and get jacked, can't you just make it to where you aren't allergic anymore?" Doug said throwing a pancake like a frisbee at Jackson, who caught it mid-air with his powers and spun it gently like a plate then threw it back.
“Look at you,” Doug said with a smirk. “All enlightened and floaty now. Mr. Freedom of Reality.”
Jackson smirked back. “At least I didn’t burn breakfast.”
Ken stood and stretched. "Alright, alright, food first, then we finally play the new Super Mecha Tournament. I've been saving this moment."
"It's called being prepared," Ken said, pulling a small hourglass pendant from his pocket like it was some kind of badge of honor.
They spent the whole day goofing off.
The kids spent their time playing video games, taking turns jumping off the dock. Doug accidentally opened a portal in the lake and almost got sucked into a dimension full of bees-they didn't ask questions. Ken made time loop so Jackson was stuck in an accidental dance for fifteen minutes.
At one point, they tried to roast marshmallows.
Just because he could.
But as night fell, as the fire had ticked down to embers and the lake was reflecting the moon in perfect silence, the mood changed.
He sat alone, away from everyone else, looking up at the stars.
"You thinking about your mom?" he asked softly.
Jackson nodded. “Every night.”
Doug came over too, wrapped up in a hoodie. “We’re gonna fix it,” he said. “Somehow. We’re gonna bring her back. And we’re gonna stop Sai.
Jackson nodded again. “I know. Just… tonight, I needed this. Us. The dumb jokes. The fire. Even the pancakes.”
Ken slung an arm around Jackson’s shoulder.
“We’re not just a team,” he said. “We’re brothers. You hear me? End of the world or not-we got you.”
He just smiled.
And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime—
He didn't sleep anymore.
But Sai didn’t notice.
The day he changed—the day Jackson did—it hadn't been random. It had been chosen.
And it saw potential in Sai.
A broken boy, sharp, angry, hiding pain behind laughter, full of love… and loneliness.
It gave him more than power.
Sai's abilities had no flashy name, no glowing aura.
But it wasn't just speed.
"Fate drawn in blood."
It let him fracture reality through blood.
If he'd fought you long enough, if he'd spilled even a few drops of your blood, he could see your fate-the strings of possibility branching from your body. And then he could cut them.
Make your heart beat wrong.
Make your bones forget how to hold shape.
Once.
Someone whom Jackson loved.
Sai opened his eyes.
He stood, blades of wind coiling around his arms like scarves. The candles flickered in fear.
In the rear of the cathedral, a figure stirred.
“You’re restless again,” it rasped; a voice like dust and smoke.
Sai didn't turn. "They're training. Growing stronger."
“I don’t doubt,” Sai said. “I remember.”
He touched his chest.
“I know what I have to do,” he said. “But I won’t kill them. Not yet.”
“I still feel everything,” Sai snapped. “That’s the difference between me and them. Jackson’s becoming light. But I…” He turned to the shadows. “I’ve become what lives beneath it.”
The voice hummed, pleased.
And whispered:
"Next time, I end it."
Just a blur.
A breeze.
A storm waiting to strike.
Jackson's living room had become command central.
And on the front door? A hand-painted sign:
“HOLLOW CORE — Defend the Light. Break the Shadows.”
Doug raised his hand. “Do we get codenames?”
“Yes,” said Jackson, without missing a beat.
They trained every day.
Enter: Master Sasaki.
A retired martial artist, once rumored to train world champions in secret. Now? He ran a used bookstore on the edge of New Thornebridge, lived above it, and only took students "worthy of being punched through a wall."
Ken was second.
Jackson blocked it, but only just.
He trained them with bamboo swords, ankle weights, and wooden dummies rigged to explode. He had them fighting blindfolded. He had them sparring each other without powers. And he had them meditating in cold rain until their breathing synchronized.
And slowly…
Then came the alert.
Not the dark force behind him.
Name: Aki
Abilities: Cybernetic speed enhancement, combat-grade exosuit, electric arc blades.
Cars overturned, smoke everywhere, and people screaming.
And amidst all of them was a tall figure clad in black and chrome armor that pulsed blue with energy: Aki.
“Looks like we've got company,” Aki growled, eyes glowing beneath his visor.
Jackson stepped forward.
Ken blinked out of view, reappeared behind Aki, and swung a crowbar through a slowed-time loop. Aki dodged effortlessly and countered with a surge of kinetic energy that sent Ken tumbling.
They clashed: metal tech versus real powerz.
Aki slid back, armor steaming.
Jackson fought hand to hand, power flaring in every strike. But Aki was calculated: every punch a program, every block augmented by nanosecond reaction time.
Then Jackson remembered Sasaki’s voice:
"Strength is nothing without timing."
He baited Aki.
Feinted left.
Kicked the inside of his knee.
Aki blinked.
"Collapse."
Doug opened a void.
They left him tied in carbon-fiber wire, police en route, as the crowd started gathering.
Cheers.
Phones flashing.
Ken smirked. “We need better masks.”
Jackson just watched the skyline, serious again.
What kind of monster was running the syndicate?
The room smelled of old pizza and burnt circuits.
Jackson leaned over the busted helmet they'd taken off Aki, running his fingers over the melted wires and the shattered plating. Ken worked his magic, scanning it with his modified tablet.
Untouchable.
Until now.
Ken pulled up the file.
"Cassian Rook—ex-military, dishonorably discharged. Runs the Syndicate. Specializes in tech-weapons, black-market biotech, energy siphoning. Rumors say he's been recruiting enhanced individuals."
Jackson's hands clenched into fists.
"If Sai's working with him." His voice trailed off, tight and furious.
Ken nodded. "That’s our lead."
Jackson stood up, energy crackling faintly around his fists.
"Then we're off to see the docks."
The Mission:
Night fell heavy and wet over Fox Hollow. Clouds blanketed the sky. Thunder rumbled far off, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
Dressed in dark clothes and masks, Hollow Core moved through the abandoned shipyard. Cranes rusted into the fog like metal skeletons. The only light came from a few buzzing sodium lamps—and the warehouse at the end of the pier, humming with neon lines.
“Multiple heat signatures,” Ken whispered. “And turrets.”
Doug made a portal high above the warehouse roof. “In or out?”
"In."
Inside the Warehouse:
Jackson, Ken, and Doug moved like shadows.
They found the main room.
Rows and rows of black-market tech.
Weaponized exosuits.
Serum canisters.
And in the middle, a reinforced vault door.
Ken hacked the security panel, fingers flying. "This. isn't just weapons," he said, voice tight. "It's augmentation tech. This is how they're making enhanced soldiers. This is how Aki got juiced up."
Jackson shook his head. "Not yet."
They found it tucked behind the vault.
On the desk—a laptop, still open.
He plugged in immediately. Files spilled across the screen: movement logs, transaction records, test subjects, enhancement experiments. And then they saw it. "Subject 000 — Raptor." "Subject has demonstrated exponential growth in physical capabilities. Demonstrates full awareness and the will to push further. Requires additional advanced augmentation support to survive further evolution." Alarms burst into noise. "They aren't forcing him," he said, his voice cold. "He's choosing this. He's training to beat us." Ken nodded grimly.

A 20-year old man working in a dead end convinience store died when the building collapsed and is transmigrated to a magical fantasy world by the world's goddess. He is given a magical store to run like a convenience store and is given skills to manage it.

Bölüm 1: Kalp Gözlü Küçük Peri
Bir zamanlar, pembe bulutların arasında saklı bir yerde, “Kalp Bulutu Krallığı” diye tatlı bir diyar vardı. Burada her şey pamuk şekeri kadar yumuşak, her çiçek kalp şeklinde açardı. İşte bu krallığın en küçük ama en tatlı sakini, Pufi’ydi.
Pufi, pembe tüylü bir periydi. Gözleri kocaman, siyah ve tam ortasında parlak pembe kalpler vardı. Bu kalpler sadece güzel görünmüyordu; gerçekten de duyguları görebiliyordu. Birine baktığında o kişinin kalbinde ne hissettiğini anlıyordu. Bu yüzden herkes ona “Kalp Okuyan Pufi” derdi.
O sabah Pufi, her zamanki gibi yıldız antenlerini sallayarak uyandı. Antenlerinin ucundaki pembe yıldızlar ve pamuk topları neşeyle zıplıyordu.
“Bugün ne yapayım acaba?” diye mırıldandı kendi kendine, küçük kanatlarını çırparak havada süzülürken.
Tam o sırada krallığın en yaşlı perisi, yaşlı Nine Bulut, telaşla yanına geldi.
“Pufi! Pufi! Büyük bir sorun var!”
Nine Bulut’un sesi titriyordu. “Krallığın en önemli şeyi, Büyük Kalp Kristali kayboldu! O kristal olmadan buradaki herkesin duyguları karışacak. Mutluluklar hüzne, sevgiler korkuya dönecek!”
Pufi’nin kalp gözleri irileşti.
“Ne? Ama… o kristal olmadan kimse birbirini anlayamayacak mı?”
“Evet yavrum. Ve en kötüsü… kristalin izi, Karanlık Duman Ormanı’na gidiyor.”
Karanlık Duman Ormanı… Krallıktaki herkesin korktuğu yerdi. Orada ışık pek girmezdi, ağaçlar eski ve somurtkan görünürdü. Ama Pufi’nin kalbi güçlüydü. Çünkü kalplerden korkmazdı.
“Ben giderim!” dedi Pufi kararlı bir sesle. Küçük yumruğunu sıktı. “Benim gözlerim kalpleri görür. Belki kristali çalanın kalbini de görebilirim!”
Nine Bulut endişelendi ama Pufi’nin gözlerindeki kararlı pembe ışıltıyı görünce razı oldu.
“Tamam… Ama yalnız gitme. Yanına Mimi’yi al. O küçük mavi kuş her zaman seninle olmak ister zaten.”
Pufi gülümsedi. Mimi, en yakın arkadaşıydı. Her ne kadar sürekli “Ama orası tehlikeli!” dese de, Pufi’yi asla yalnız bırakmazdı.
Böylece Pufi, kanatlarını çırparak havalandı. Yıldız antenleri neşeyle sallanıyordu. Arkasında küçük pembe kalp izleri bırakarak Karanlık Duman Ormanı’na doğru uçmaya başladı.
Ormanın girişinde hava biraz serinlemişti. Ağaçlar sanki fısıldaşıyordu. Pufi biraz ürktü ama hemen kendine cesaret verdi:
“ Korkma Pufi. Senin kalbin en güçlü kalp!”
Tam o sırada ormanın içinden garip bir ses duyuldu:
“Pufi… gel… buraya…”
Pufi durdu. Kalp gözleri parladı. O sesin sahibinin kalbinde… garip bir şey vardı. Hem hüzün, hem yalnızlık, hem de çok çok eski bir özlem.
“Kimsin sen?” diye sordu Pufi cesurca.
Karanlığın içinden yavaş yavaş bir siluet belirdi. Büyük, siyah tüylü bir yaratıktı ama… gözleri Pufi’ninkiler gibi kalp şeklindeydi. Sadece onun kalpleri gri ve solgundu.
“Ben… Koyu,” diye fısıldadı yaratık. “Uzun zamandır kimse beni görmedi. Kimse kalbimi okumadı.”
Pufi yaklaştı. Küçük eliyle yaratığın yanağına dokundu. O anda Koyu’nun kalbinde ne kadar uzun zamandır yalnız olduğunu, nasıl kristali sadece “birini anlamak için” aldığını gördü.
Pufi’nin gözleri yumuşadı.
“Kristali geri verirsen… seni anlamaya çalışırım. Yalnız olmak zorunda değilsin.”
Koyu şaşırdı. Kimse ona böyle yaklaşmamıştı.
“Gerçekten mi?..”
Pufi gülümsedi. Kalp gözleri daha da parlaklaştı.
“Gerçekten. Çünkü ben Pufi’yim. Kalpleri seven küçük peri.”
Devam edecek…

🖤 PLANCHE 4 — Les livres qu’on jette

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

🟦 CASE 1 — PLAN LARGE (haut de page)

Description visuelle :
Bâtiment massif et austère : une académie.
Architecture noble, propre, éclairée de l’intérieur.
À l’arrière, une ruelle sombre.

Ambiance :
Savoir à l’abri. Rue froide derrière.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 2 — PLAN MOYEN

Description visuelle :
Derrière l’académie.
Caisses en bois renversées.
Des livres jetés, abîmés, mouillés par la pluie.
Des pages collées par la boue.

Ambiance :
Mépris silencieux.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 3 — PLAN MOYEN (Aris)

Description visuelle :
Aris, 15 ans, maigre, vêtements usés, trop grands.
Il s’approche prudemment des caisses.
Il regarde autour de lui, comme s’il n’avait pas le droit d’être là.

Ambiance :
Habitude de la honte.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 4 — DÉTAIL (mains)

Description visuelle :
Les mains d’Aris fouillent parmi les livres.
Certains sont trop mouillés.
Certains déchirés.
Il en écarte plusieurs.

Ambiance :
Tri lent, méthodique.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 5 — PLAN RAPPROCHÉ (objet)

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

Pas de symbole.
Pas de lueur.
Rien de magique.

Texte :
Aucun.

🟦 CASE 6 — CASE FINALE

Description visuelle :
Aris tient le livre contre lui, sous la pluie.
Son visage est neutre.
Juste une décision simple.

Texte (petite bulle, très discrète) :
« Celui-là… »

🎯 INTENTION (IMPORTANT POUR MANGAAI)

Aris ne cherche pas la magie

Il cherche à lire

Le grimoire n’est pas présenté comme spécial

L’académie jette → Aris récupère

Aucun effet surnaturel à ce stade

$comic/manga page, cinematic digital painting, highly detailed, magicpunk world, fusion of fantasy and futuristic technology, visual style inspired by Arcane (Netflix), painterly textures, realistic lighting, expressive characters Scene: São Paulo, year 2000, during the "Great Binary Glitch". The sky is fracturing into glowing green binary code, reality tearing apart, buildings glitching between modern city and magical structures, crystals erupting from the ground Foreground: a young Brazilian gamer inside a LAN house, illuminated by a flickering monitor, his face showing fear and confusion, reflections of code and creatures in his eyes Mid scene: computers melting into organic-magical forms, cables turning into living tendrils, players panicking, some collapsing, digital corruption spreading through the environment Background: massive astral creatures partially visible in the sky, blending with clouds and data streams, energy cracks tearing the dimension apart Final panel focus: a small elf-like figure (Severinom) hidden in shadows outside, with glowing amber eyes and subtle cybernetic details, observing everything Lighting: dramatic, high contrast, neon glow mixed with shadows, volumetric light, cinematic atmosphere Color palette: dark tones with neon green, blue, and purple highlights, Arcane-style color grading Style: Arcane-inspired, semi-realistic, painterly rendering, detailed textures, stylized proportions, expressive faces, dynamic composition Panel layout: dynamic comic panels, varied angles, close-ups and wide shots, cinematic storytelling ultra detailed, 4k quality, concept art level, no text$

Long ago Dinosauras ruled the world until a meteor struck and a bunch of different magical animals climbed out of the hot fireball, only to start a war with the dinosaurs, leading them to extinction. Then these magical animals began to start their own advanced civilizations and made a 10-year-old human boy named kyng their leader. Little did they know, not all of the dinosaurs had died in that war; some had survived and gone into hiding, plotting to take back the world from these magical beasts

The story is about an 8-year-old young girl who finds herself on a mysterious island and she finds that there is not alot of food and her stomach starts growling and she knew she was starting to get hungry as she knew her stomach wouldnt stop after it did its first stomach growl. So she found this tree which grows these special fruits which after she eats one of the fruits to fill her still empty tummy she finds that she was transforming into a monster of some kind as she was growing bigger and her hair was growing longer and rapidly covering her eyes plus she could feel her stomach become more toned as the transformation continued until it stopped and she noticed her new looks and body while looking in the lake near the tree that she got the fruits from. The girl now bigger would use her new body to build herself a temporary shelter within a cave where she would stay as the effects would wear off and she would slowly become younger and would eventually return to her 8-year old self with her toned stomach and longer hair being a reminder of her previous transformation.

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’”

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.

🖤 PLANCHE 6 — Les mots entrent

Même structure, même intention, juste un médium différent.

🟦 CASE 1 — CALME

Aris assis contre le mur.
Le livre ouvert devant lui.
Il lit.

Silence.

🟦 CASE 2 — PREMIÈRE ANOMALIE

Les mots quittent la page.

Pas tous.
Quelques lignes seulement.
Ils flottent, comme mal accrochés au monde.

Pas d’effet magique flashy.

🟦 CASE 3 — CONTACT

Les mots se collent à Aris :

sur les bras

sur le cou

sur le visage

sur les vêtements

Ils ne pénètrent pas encore.
Ils adhèrent.

👉 Comme une écriture qu’on ne peut plus effacer.

🟦 CASE 4 — DOULEUR

Gros plan sur le visage.

Les mots s’enfoncent :

ils disparaissent sous la peau

laissent des traces sombres

certaines lettres se déforment

Texte (petit, cassé) :
« —Gah— »

Cri humain.
Pas héroïque.

🟦 CASE 5 — LA CHUTE

Le corps lâche.

Aris glisse, s’effondre.
Les mots continuent d’entrer, même s’il ne lit plus.

Il n’a plus aucun contrôle.

🟦 CASE 6 — ÉVANOUISSEMENT

Aris inconscient.

Les mots ont disparu.
Plus rien de visible.

Le livre est toujours ouvert.

Silence.

A 18 year old Japanese woman named Mika, who gets turned into the Venus de Milo. She has a short black hair with a bang covering her left eye and with a heart necklace and has grey eyes. She's seminude and armless after the petrification. She's the copy of the Venus de Milo in a museum.

$Katyka tenía seis años y todavía dormía con los pies descubiertos. En la penumbra de su habitación, la noche parecía contener la respiración. Las paredes, pintadas en tonos suaves azul y rosa, se veían deslavadas, como si un amanecer se hubiera quedado atrapado ahí y se negara a avanzar. La cama baja estaba revuelta, con una manta hecha bolita cerca de los pies y un peluche boca abajo, mirando al vacío. Sobre la mesita de noche, libros de dibujos con esquinas dobladas y hojas arrugadas se amontonaban alrededor de una caja de crayones abierta. La ventana estaba entreabierta. Por la rendija entraba un aire frío que hacía bailar la cortina. Más allá, clavada en el cielo, brillaba una estrella distinta a las demás: una luz de plata, fija, alerta. La Estrella de Plata. Katy soñaba. En su sueño, el cielo no era cielo, sino un espejo oscuro. Sobre él, siete lunas flotaban alineadas en perfecta quietud, como cuentas en un hilo invisible. Cada luna tenía un símbolo grabado en su superficie, tan nítido que parecía dibujado con luz: La primera, un fuego que se retorcía sin consumir nada. La segunda, un copo de hielo, fractal e imposible. La tercera, una pluma suspendida en caída eterna. La cuarta, una garra curvada, afilada, casi viva. La quinta, una lágrima que nunca terminaba de caer. La sexta, una sombra sin forma, como un borrón vivo. La séptima, un símbolo hecho de ondas, como un canto congelado. Las siete lunas giraban lentamente sobre sí mismas, proyectando reflejos que se entremezclaban. Cada vez que una luna se inclinaba, su símbolo se estampaba en el espejo oscuro bajo ellas, como si marcara un territorio secreto. Katy no hablaba en el sueño. No sabía si podía. Pero sentía algo: una presión en el pecho, un tirón suave que no dolía, pero que daba miedo. Como si alguien —o algo— la estuviera tomando de la mano desde muy lejos y tirara de ella hacia esas lunas. Entonces escuchó la voz.$

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.

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.

A black and white manga panel. A 19-year-old young man (Marshal) with wavy light-toned hair and a padded doublet stands in a freezing, pitch-black stone cellar, looking nervous. From the deep shadows steps out another 19-year-old man (Morgan) with messy solid black hair and pitch-black eyes. Morgan is holding a dusty antique wine bottle and is laughing uncontrollably, a tear in his eye. Dramatic lighting, high contrast ink, seinen manga style, dark fantasy.

Action manga panel. Intense motion lines. A heavy, rotting medieval wooden door violently explodes outward into hundreds of splinters. Through the flying wood debris and dust, a massive, terrifying medieval knight in seamless, heavy dark plate armor barges into the room. In the foreground, the two young men drop the wine bottle in shock. Dynamic composition, screentones, impact effect, seinen manga style.

Fast-paced action manga panel. Two young men (one with wavy light hair, one with messy black hair) are sprinting desperately down a narrow, damp stone corridor. They are looking back over their shoulders in panic. Heavy speed lines (manga effect) to emphasize their fast running. Dramatic shading, claustrophobic atmosphere, highly detailed ink drawing, dark fantasy.

A tense manga panel. Blocking a stone archway is a solid wall of five towering medieval knights standing shoulder-to-shoulder. They wear identical, menacing heavy steel plate armor with closed visors. The knight in the center aggressively draws a long broadsword. In the foreground, the young man with light wavy hair drops to his knees in surrender, putting his hands up. Cold, oppressive atmosphere, detailed armor rendering, seinen manga style.

A dramatic manga panel. An older, burly medieval army captain (Dant) with a weathered face, graying beard, and battered armor runs into the scene, panting heavily. He raises his left hand authoritatively (the hand is missing two fingers). The heavily armored knights in the background lower their swords in submission. The captain looks down with a disappointed expression. Expressive ink shading, dark fantasy manga style.

Black and white Japanese manga style, seinen manga, dark fantasy, highly detailed ink drawing, dramatic shading, screentones, sharp line art, cinematic angle --ar 16:9

Xochi, 19 and Mexican-American, gets turned into the Angel of Independence, a seminude and golden statue located in Mexico City. Xochi has dark brown short hair with a bang nearly covering her right eye and has light green eyes. Xochi is seminude and has golden wings along with a laurel wreath and a broken chain in each hand also with the original pose.

Panel 1 (Wide panel – city rooftop, night)

A quiet city under a dark sky. A teenage boy stands on a rooftop, hands in his pockets, wind blowing his jacket.

Text (narration):
Every night… the city stops breathing for five minutes.

Panel 2 (Close-up – boy’s face)

His eyes are tired but alert. A digital watch glows.

Watch: 4:55 AM
Boy (thinking): It’s almost time.

Panel 3 (Street below – eerie silence)

Cars frozen mid-road. A bird suspended in the air. Everything is still.

Sound effect: ……

Panel 4 (Medium panel – behind the boy)

A girl suddenly appears behind him, holding an umbrella despite no rain.

Girl:
“You see it too, don’t you?”

Panel 5 (Close-up – boy startled)

He turns sharply, eyes wide.

Boy:
“You’re not frozen…”

Panel 6 (Half-page style dramatic panel)

The sky begins to glow faintly. Time feels tense.

Girl (smiling slightly):
“Neither are you. That’s why the city chose us.”

Watch: 4:59 AM

Panel 7 (Final panel – sunrise)

Light floods the city. Everything moves again. The rooftop is empty.

Text (narration):
Tomorrow… I’ll wait again.

Small text at bottom:
To be continued.

My story is about a boy named Vex Lobius, a high school student who lives in the city of Axstral, a place shrouded in eternal twilight and surrounded by ancient ruins. Vex belongs to the Lobius family, known for having once guarded a dark power that threatened the city. Because of this, everyone fears him and treats him like a monster, even though he has never done anything wrong.

One day at school, after being targeted and provoked by the bully Caleb, Vex loses control of his emotions and awakens a mysterious power within himself. The energy bursts out uncontrollably, destroying part of the classroom and terrifying all the students. From that moment on, Vex realizes that the dark power of his family has awakened inside him as well.

Frightened and confused, he runs toward the ruins outside the school, wondering whether he will truly become the monster everyone believes he is… or if he will manage to control that power and uncover the truth about his heritage.

The story is a mix of dark fantasy, school drama, and supernatural power awakening, with a gloomy and mysterious atmosphere.