The night Raiyo was abandoned, the world was silent. The cold air wrapped around his frail body, his small hands trembling as he groped at the unseen darkness. He was nothing more than a child, left to die on the outskirts of a cursed forest—a place where only monsters dared to tread.
He did not understand why his father, Keal Shingen, had cast him aside. He had done nothing wrong. He was simply born blind.
The ground beneath him was damp with decay, the scent of rotting wood and damp earth thick in the air. He could hear the distant growls of beasts lurking in the darkness, their predatory instincts sharpening at the scent of human flesh.
Something moved.
A shadow shifted in the wind, silent, yet overwhelming.
The boy did not scream, did not cry. He only waited, his breath shallow, sensing the presence drawing closer.
Then, a voice—low, smooth, and inhuman.
"You are not afraid?"
The presence circled him, its breath hot against his skin. Raiyo did not respond.
He knew fear would do him no good.
A chuckle echoed through the void, and suddenly, cold fingers wrapped around his tiny wrist.
"Then perhaps you are worth saving."
And thus, the demon took him in.
Years passed, and Master Ojiro Tenma honed him like a blade being sharpened on the whetstone of suffering.
She was no ordinary swordswoman—she was a demon, a being of darkness who walked the realm of men with grace and cruelty in equal measure.
Her training was merciless.
She would cut him without hesitation. Strike him until his body collapsed. She did not coddle him, did not offer warmth.
But she never abandoned him.
That, more than anything, made her different from his father.
"Again,"
she commanded, her voice firm, as Raiyo lay sprawled on the cold ground, his lungs burning.
He clutched his wooden training sword, his fingers bruised and bleeding, but he forced himself up. His legs trembled, but he steadied himself.
Ojiro did not wait for him to regain his composure.
She attacked.
Her blade whistled through the air, the wind slicing across his face. He barely had time to react, raising his sword in defense.
But she was faster.
The impact sent him crashing back down, pain erupting through his ribs.
"Too slow,"
she said.
"Too weak."
Raiyo gritted his teeth, pressing his forehead against the dirt. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but he knew better.
He had no right to complain.
Not when she had already taught him so much.
One night, under the glow of a crimson moon, Ojiro sat across from him. A single katana lay between them, its edge gleaming under the dim light.
"Do you know why I saved you?"
she asked, her voice devoid of warmth.
Raiyo hesitated. He had never asked. He had never dared to.
Ojiro lifted the katana with effortless grace.
"Because I saw potential in you. But potential is useless without conviction."
She flipped the blade in her hand, pointing the sharp end at him.
"Take the sword,"
she ordered.
Raiyo hesitated for only a moment before reaching forward. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, the metal cold against his skin.
Ojiro did not move, did not react.
Then, she spoke again—softly, yet carrying the weight of finality.
"Kill me."
The words sent a shiver down his spine.
Raiyo's grip tightened, his heart pounding. He could feel the weight of the katana in his hands, feel the presence of death lingering in the air.
"Why?"
he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
"Because if you cannot kill, then you have no place in this world," she said. "If you cannot cut down even the one who raised you, then you are still weak. And the weak…"
She leaned forward, her golden eyes glowing like embers in the dark.
"…are destined to be cut down."
Raiyo stood frozen.
He had spent years under her brutal training, endured every wound, every scar, every moment of pain. He had learned to wield the sword, to fight, to endure suffering beyond reason.
But now, she was asking him to cross the line he had never dared to.
To kill.
The sword trembled in his hands.
Ojiro sighed.
"Pathetic."
And then—she struck.
Her foot slammed into his chest, knocking him back. His body hit the ground hard, the katana slipping from his grip. Before he could react, her blade was already at his throat.
"Do you see now?"
she whispered.
"Hesitation is death."
Raiyo swallowed hard.
"You are still not ready,"
she said, withdrawing her sword.
"And until you are…"
Her voice turned cold.
"You are nothing."
That night, Raiyo did not sleep.
The weight of her words bore into him, carving itself into his mind.
For years, he had trained under her, believing that survival was enough. That simply enduring was enough.
But it wasn't.
He would never surpass Keal. Never avenge his abandonment. Never carve his own fate.
Not unless he was willing to become more.
So he stood, gripping his katana once more.
And for the first time—he felt it.
A pulse.
A whisper in the air.
A presence he had never noticed before.
It was as if the world itself had shifted. As if the darkness around him was not simply emptiness, but something alive.
Something waiting.
And when he raised his blade, the air around him shuddered.
Ojiro, watching from the shadows, smirked.
"Good. You are finally beginning to see."
And so, the boy abandoned by fate took his first step toward becoming The Blind Vex Lord.