Dark's Pre Crisis

Shinryu, The One That Goes Beyond A Cosmic God.

The scene opens with the familiar vision of a past untouched by the darker shades of life. A young boy, an unmistakable echo of Shinryu's earliest innocence, darts through the village, his small body brimming with youthful zeal. This village, a place suspended above the clouds as if it were a dream nestled within the heavens, radiates with the vibrancy of a world untouched by the woes of conflict. Every building, every alleyway, is adorned with the artistry of life—a rich harmony of laughter, song, and the hum of magic that cradles the village in serenity. The people move through this sky-cradled sanctuary, their steps light as air itself, for this village floats not just amidst the clouds, but in the boundless freedom of an aerial paradise.

Shinryu, a mere boy in this snapshot of time, embodies the essence of this village. His eyes, wide with wonder, reflect the skies above as he bounds through the streets, his path illuminated by the very essence of hope. The shops hum with life, their stalls displaying everything from the finest fabrics woven with celestial threads to exotic foods, their aromas mixing in the air like a symphony. Even the gadgets sold seem to have a magical glint to them, as if each object possesses a soul of its own.

Amidst this scene of peace, Luna stands—a figure of grace and strength, her presence radiating both authority and warmth. Her long hair flows in the wind, a cascade of silver strands that seem to shimmer in the sunlight. She is both mother and queen, her wisdom stretching far beyond the realm of this village.

Luna: Shinryu, take this money and bring us some food.

Her voice is gentle, yet carries the weight of command, trusting her young son with a task far more important than it seems. She is not merely asking him to run an errand; she is preparing him for the future.

With an innocent yet determined "Okay, mom," Shinryu accepts the coins, his small hands clutching the future that his mother unknowingly places in them. As he skips away, Luna's gaze lingers on him, her heart swelling with pride and a silent prophecy whispered in her thoughts.

Luna: My son will grow... and become the strongest man our race has ever seen.

The tenderness of the moment, however, shatters like fragile glass. From the periphery, a brutish figure steps forward, his sneer a weapon aimed directly at Luna's hope. His presence casts a long shadow over her, and with the cruel edge of mockery, he strikes without warning.

"Your son? Becoming the strongest human?" His laughter is a jagged scar across the peaceful scene. "Hahaha, what a bitch."

The insult, sharp and unforgiving, cuts deeper than any blade could. It is not just a taunt; it is an assault on Luna's very soul. But as the dust of disdain settles, it ignites something within Shinryu—a spark that would one day become a firestorm. His small feet halt mid-step, his head turning slowly as his young face hardens. The raw power of his mother's love fuels his resolve, and though still a boy, he turns to confront the source of his mother's disgrace.

The moment is surreal. Luna's voice, tinged with terror, echoes through the air, "SHINRYU NOOO!" But her words are swallowed by the sky as Shinryu leaps, defying both gravity and destiny. His body, propelled by something far greater than rage, soars into the heavens. In his small hands, a universe swirls—a mere fragment of his untapped power.

He descends like a star crashing to earth, his power focused on one singular point. The mocker, barely able to react, is engulfed in the catastrophic energy unleashed by a child whose strength knows no bounds. The explosion is not just physical—it is cosmic. The village, once a floating paradise, is obliterated in an instant. Ashes rain from the sky where once there had been life and laughter.

Years pass in a whirlwind of sorrow and solitude. Shinryu, now standing at the precipice of manhood, finds himself in a graveyard, a silent monument to the past he could not save. In his hands, flowers—fragile tokens of his remorse—lie before the gravestone of his mother.