Splintered oak flew across the dojo, scraping against the polished stone floor. Sweat stung Pavlos’s eyes as he rolled backward, barely avoiding a devastating stomp that cracked the concrete beneath him. He scrambled to his feet, panting heavily, his chest heaving under a torn Slipknot t-shirt. Baggy black cargo pants hung low on his hips, the silver wallet chain clinking rhythmically against his thigh with every movement. Heihachi Mishima stood in the center of the training hall, completely unfazed. High collar framing his stern face, the old man slowly lowered his fists. Gray hair flared upward like horns, a physical testament to his monstrous presence. Cold eyes locked onto Pavlos, filled with nothing but disappointment. "Get up," Heihachi commanded, his deep voice vibrating through the empty dojo. "Is this the strength of the boy who claims he wants vengeance? Your brother’s killer would crush you in seconds." Hearing his brother’s name made something snap inside Pavlos. Blood rushed to his ears, drowning out the faint sound of the nu-metal track playing from his fallen MP3 player near the bench. Yiannis. His face, his final screams, and the towering, crystalline horror of Azazel. It all flashed behind Pavlos’s eyelids in a sickening burst of memory. Anger boiled hot in his gut, clawing its way up his throat. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth squeaked, the veins in his neck bulging. He stepped forward, his worn skate shoes squeaking against the wood. "Shut up," Pavlos growled, his voice dropping an octave. "Don't you dare talk about him." Heihachi smirked, a cruel, mocking curve of his lips. He raised his hands, beckoning the teenager forward with a flick of his wrist. "Then prove me wrong, boy. Show me the power of your cursed blood." With a guttural roar, Pavlos lunged forward. He executed a flawless Mishima crouch dash, staying low to the ground before launching upward. His fist drove forward in a lightning-fast upper punch, aiming straight for Heihachi’s jaw. Red sparks erupted around his forearm. It wasn't the traditional blue-white electricity of the Mishima clan. Blood-red lightning crackled violently across his knuckles, smelling of burnt copper and ozone. The raw power of the Devil Gene surged through his veins, turning the sclera of his eyes a dangerous, glowing crimson. Heihachi’s eyes widened slightly as he raised a massive forearm to block. The collision shook the room. Shockwaves rippled through the dojo, shattering the nearby paper screen doors and blowing back the dust. The old man was forced back half a step, his boots leaving dark skid marks on the floor. "Better!" Heihachi roared, his own blue lightning sparking as he countered with a brutal sweep. "But still too slow!" Pavlos leaped over the low kick, twisting mid-air to deliver a spinning heel drop. His heel slammed into Heihachi’s block, sending another shower of red sparks flying. The sheer force of the impact rattled Pavlos’s bones, but he refused to back down, pressing the attack with a relentless flurry of punches and kicks. Heihachi deflected each strike with practiced ease, but the intensity of Pavlos’s red lightning was growing. It leaped from his skin, scorching the floorboards and leaving black singe marks. The air grew heavy, thick with the oppressive weight of demonic energy. Suddenly, Heihachi stepped inside Pavlos’s guard, driving a heavy palm strike directly into the boy’s chest. The impact knocked the wind from Pavlos’s lungs, sending him crashing backward into a wooden pillar. He slid down, coughing, red lightning sputtering out around him. "Enough," a calm, commanding voice echoed from the entrance of the dojo. Jin Kazama stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. His trademark leather jacket hung open, and his dark eyes looked down at Pavlos with a mixture of sternness and quiet understanding. He walked slowly into the room, his footsteps silent. "You are letting the anger consume you, Pavlos," Jin said, his voice a steady anchor in the tense room. "The Devil Gene feeds on that rage. If you do not control it, it will destroy you from the inside out." Pavlos spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glared up at his mentor, his breathing shallow. "Azazel took everything from me. How am I supposed to stay calm when that monster is still out there?" "By remembering why you are here," Jin replied, kneeling down to look Pavlos in the eye. "You are going to UA Academy. Not to fight mindlessly, but to learn. The world is changing. Quirks, heroes, villains... they are all connected to the darkness we fight. You must be prepared." Heihachi scoffed, crossing his arms. "Playing hero at some school for children. A waste of time. He should stay here and train until his bones break." "He needs more than just brute strength, grandfather," Jin countered, his tone hardening. "He needs discipline. Something you never understood." A sharp laugh cut through the tense silence. Reina leaned against the doorframe, twirling a lock of her purple-streaked hair around her finger. Her sharp eyes gleamed with amusement as she looked at Pavlos’s disheveled state. "Look at the little hero," Reina mocked, a smug grin spreading across her face. "Going to school with the good boys and girls. Try not to cry when they scratch your little skateboard, Pavlos." Pavlos rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the floor. He grabbed his skateboard from the corner, his fingers gripping the worn grip tape. "Mind your own business, Reina. At least I don't look like a grape that got run over by a truck." Reina’s smile vanished, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you say?" "You heard me," Pavlos muttered, tossing his MP3 player into his backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. "I’m leaving. This place smells like old people anyway." Walking past Heihachi and Reina, Pavlos ignored their glares. He headed out into the cool Tokyo evening, the sun dipping below the horizon. The city lights were just beginning to flicker to life, casting long shadows across the pavement. Wheels hummed against concrete as Pavlos skated down the winding streets. The cool wind in his face helped clear his head, cooling the residual heat of the Devil Gene. He adjusted his headphones, letting the heavy bass and aggressive guitar riffs of his favorite nu-metal band wash over him. Musutafu was a different world compared to his home in Greece. Here, heroes flew through the sky, and people used extraordinary powers just to get to work. It was chaotic, loud, and completely overwhelming. But it was also where his new life was supposed to begin. Tomorrow was his first day at UA High School. Class 1-A. He had been accepted under a special recommendation, thanks to Jin’s connections. The thought of sitting in a classroom with a bunch of self-righteous heroes-in-training made his stomach turn, but he knew he had no choice. Stopping near an alleyway close to his apartment, Pavlos popped his board up into his hand. He felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. It was a cold, piercing sensation, completely different from the hot rage of his Devil Gene. His reflection in a puddle on the street caught his eye. For a brief second, his reflection didn't show his face. It showed a dark, horned silhouette with glowing red eyes, smiling back at him. Pavlos gasped, stepping back. The reflection returned to normal, showing only his tired, sweat-streaked face. He rubbed his temples, cursing under his breath. The hallucinations were getting worse. A rustling sound from the alleyway made him freeze. He gripped his skateboard tightly, ready to use it as a weapon. "Who’s there?" he called out, his voice sharp. Silence followed, save for the dripping of a nearby pipe. Then, a small, black wooden box slid out from the shadows, stopping right at his feet. It was wrapped in a frayed purple ribbon, the exact color of Azazel’s dark energy. Pavlos stared at the box, his heart hammering against his ribs. He knelt down, his fingers trembling slightly as he reached out. He pulled the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside lay a single, burnt fingerless glove. It was the glove Yiannis had been wearing the day he died. Resting on top of the fabric was a small, glowing purple crystal, pulsing like a heartbeat. Looking up, Pavlos scanned the empty alleyway, but there was no one in sight. A cold dread settled in his chest, and he knew his past had finally found him.

Chapter 1: Red Lightning and Rusty Chains