*Chapter Two: *Calamity*
But the gods hadn't abandoned them. Not completely.
Heroes and heroines began to appear among the survivors. Ordinary people who suddenly weren't ordinary anymore. It was believed the gods bestowed their power upon humanity so the race wouldn't be wiped out. So there would be a chance. People started awakening traits—powers that could call upon the laws of the world itself. Fire. Ice. Lightning. Things that broke physics.
With those powers, they fought back. Gained a moment of respite in the endless bloodshed. Carved out safe zones. Built walls.
The war lasted five years. Five years of hell. Sons and daughters blessed by the gods wielded terrifying abilities that leveled battlefields. Slowly, painfully, inch by inch, they built back a foothold. Humanity stood strong again. Not safe. But standing.
In the aftermath, the governments of the world came together for the first time without borders or pride. They formed a World Government and divided all remaining humans across seven continents: Veraks, Golden, Kerdas, Vishtall, Silver, White, and Red.
The vast expanse of Pangu was split between them, each continent walled, each continent responsible for its own survival. And at the center, where all seven met like spokes on a wheel, lay the Central Continent. That was where every world government body held their intercontinental meetings. The heart of what was left. The last place that still pretended the world was whole.
---
*
Everyone thought with just a little more time, peace would come.
The land was still bleeding, but the sea… the sea was quiet. Mysteriously quiet. Despite all the war against the land beasts, it was as if the beasts in the sea weren't contaminated. They sank gigantic ships, yes. They tore hulls apart like paper.
But they didn't bother with the land.
So laymen believed the ocean was still safe. Safe, aside from storms that came too often and stayed too long.
The powerful sons and daughters of the gods knew better. Knew more than to think that.
Forbidden. That was the word whispered in every academy, every military hall, every government chamber. Forbidden for humans to trespass into large bodies of water. The seas. The oceans.
But hope is stubborn. And humans are worse.
Everyone thought peace was at hand. That humanity would be free again from the oppression of aberrations. That they would once again climb back to the top of the food chain.
Arin, sitting in the cracked wooden chair of the Villa Square classroom, felt the old Arin's memory shiver.
_Top of the food chain,_ the thought echoed bitterly. On Earth, he hadn't even been top of the hospital waiting list. Here, "top" meant "not eaten yet."
Until two years after the seven continents were established.
Seven years after the first calamity that had threatened to push humans to the brink of extinction.
A very normal day. The kind of day that makes hope dangerous.
Humans were filled with hope. The day of salvation wasn't far off, they said. The streets were filled with people on every continent, even the Central, all of them bouncing back on their feet. Building. Trading. Laughing, even.
Then the sky changed.
Black clouds began forming. Not slow. Not natural. Within moments — moments that it would take to burn a matchstick — everywhere, all over the world, became dark purple.
Lightning streaked through the sky. Each bolt as thick as a bucket. Purple light served as the only light needed to see the monstrosity that was to come.
Everyone stopped.
Shock. Disbelief. Governments all over the world scrambled, radios crackling, generals shouting orders that made no sense anymore.
Even Arin, viewing the memories of the previous Arin while listening attentively in history class, couldn't help but shiver. The body he wore was weak, but the memory wasn't.
And even the calamity that had almost brought humanity to its knees hadn't come with this type of special effect.
This was different. This was personal.
And that was what the governments in the continents and the citizens were thinking at that time.
Everything felt paused. Like the world itself wanted the fear to sink in. Wanted it to break human wills utterly.
Everyone held their breath.
Even the strongest of the sons and daughters blessed by the gods felt it.
Maslow Griffin stood on the highest balcony of the tallest building in the Central Continent. Bald head gleaming under the purple light. He looked forty, maybe. But his real age was beyond a hundred years. A long white beard reached his chest, whipping in wind that wasn't there.
His expression was grim as he looked toward the sky.
He knew what this was. And knowing didn't make it easier.
After some minutes, it was as if an ancient one was beating a primordial drum.
_Badum. Badum. Badum._
Everyone around the world heard it. The terrifying drum. It sounded like a heartbeat, but wrong. Too big. Too old. Too hungry.
Panic erupted. People ran. Screamed. Some of the weak ones broke down on the spot, their wills utterly destroyed. They wailed, asking the gods what they had done to deserve this divine punishment.
Unfortunately, it didn't delay the calamity. If anything, it made it quicker.
What happened next made humanity certain their date of extinction was near.
Immediately the terrifying drum stopped.
In front of the whole world, the very fabric of the world above tore. A massive tear, visible to almost everyone who looked up. Like seeing the moon when you tilt your head back, except this wasn't light. This was wound.
It was as if the planet itself was showing how badly hurt it was.
And what made the blood of people turn cold — cold enough that some humans started killing themselves on the spot — was the eye.
A very large eyeball. At least as big as the tear itself. It became visible, staring down.
As soon as it came into view, electronics began collapsing all over the world. Anything that used electricity, anything that used gas, started becoming obsolete. As if the very laws of their existence were canceled.
Lights died. Engines stalled. Communication cut out.
With the look of things, in the coming months they wouldn't be usable again.
Humans started despairing. And the vile beasts they had waged war against in the past began evolving again. More grotesque. More obscene. Their mere view could run a sane human mad. Stronger. Faster. More crazed.
Hope was lost right off the bat. Even the strongest son of the gods could only look dazed at the eyeball that threatened to tear more of the fabric of their world.
But the eyeball didn't do anything to the humans.
As if it didn't even acknowledge their existence.
It stared. Likely viewing them as a meal. Or looking for something.
Then a slight tremor ran through the earth of Pangu.
Before a pillar of light, as thick as the eyeball in the sky, struck it with the force of nature itself.
Immediately, the sons and daughters blessed by the gods broke out of their stupor. Even though the eyeball or its owner didn't release any aura, it was as if they were standing and staring at the force of nature itself.
It was only after the golden light struck the eye that they broke out of their primal fear. It was as if the stronger you were, the more you were drawn into the terrifying eye.
The chosen began fighting off the aberrations that had received another evolution and more bloodthirstiness in a bitter battle.
As that was going on, the eyeball stayed focused on the pillar of golden light that had struck it. And it was forming to strike again.
A lot of people lost their lives trying to fight off the monstrosity, or trying to save their loved ones from certain doom.
The golden pillar formed again. Struck the eyeball again.
The eyeball didn't blink. As if it felt no pain.
It was only after the second strike that boils started forming on the eyeball. As if it was decaying. Patches started forming, then falling off onto the soil of Pangu.
Dark, gooey drops of blood as large as cars fell from the eyeball. Where they landed, soil rotted instantly. People in those areas died terrifying, grotesque deaths.
Human mutated after coming in contact with the rotten flesh and blood dropping from the large eyeball in the sky. The flesh fell like massive boulders through the tear in the sky.
A blessed chosen. Still, he couldn't resist. He turned into an aberration worse than the monsters themselves. Grew teeth all over his body, became as large as a tanker, bouncing up and down, gnawing on human flesh and sucking blood dry.
This kind of scenario kept happening everywhere. Aberrations chased after the remains of the eyeball like their lives depended on it. They burst apart before even reaching the remains.
But some aberrations that could withstand even a drop of the remains' blood. They gained immense power. Mutated into more obscene forms. Their forms alone became nightmares, even to the strong-willed.
The eye withdrew after the damage from the golden pillar that came from Pangu's soil.
Yet another golden pillar was brewing. This one larger than anything before. But instead of going at the eyeball that had withdrawn — whether from injury or lack of interest — its presence was still there, like it was waiting for something.
After accumulating for some time, the golden pillar burst into fireworks.
It rained down on as many humans as it could reach. Even on the chosen sons and daughters of the gods.
It granted them many folds of their base power. Those who didn't have a trait before gained one, at a higher level. Those who were wounded healed up. Severed limbs regrew.
It made everyone hopeful. Made them cry tears of joy at the thought that the gods did not forsake them.
After pushing back the aberrations, after fighting for a whole day, everyone didn't tire out easily. The golden rain had changed things.
The golden rain also helped humanity.
It sealed the droppings of the eyeball.
Sealed their aura.
Forced the mutation from continuing to spread
The blood turned into black, rugged stone.
Ancient golden glyphs burned across the surface.
The flesh dried into husks.
Moldy, dead forms.
Covered in the same ancient golden glyphs.
Those glyphs helped seal the aura again.
Stopped the aberrations from sensing them.
Weakened their bloodthirst.
That was what helped drive them back.
_The gods do not forsake us,_ the memory whispered.
Arin's own thoughts were quieter, colder.
He continued to view the memories, curious, wanting to grasp the full history, and to know what happened after that.
Suddenly, the drum that they heard at the beginning of the calamity started sounding again.
Same rhythm. _Badum. Badum._
Everyone looked up from their positions all over the world in horror.
That's how it began.