In a secluded mansion on the outskirts of Mau City, a young man stood on the balcony, lost in thought. The distant skyline was painted with fire and smoke, thick plumes rising into the darkened sky. Kael Makena exhaled sharply, his red-flowered shirt hanging loosely on his frame with the top three buttons undone, swaying gently in the breeze. On the small, oval-shaped table beside him, a black box rested in silence small and unassuming, yet quietly significant. His fingers drummed lightly against the railing as he contemplated the falling apart of the world.
Rumors had already spread homes were being raided, families torn apart, people turning on one another. Chaos had slithered into every corner of society, poisoning it from within. Kael had chosen this mansion for its seclusion and security, far from the city's clamor and dangers. Yet even now, he knew this fragile peace wouldn't last.
His success as a businessman had brought him many enemies over the years. At only twenty, he had built a media empire from nothing, stepping on powerful figures who weren't too happy about his rise. Under normal circumstances, security, influence, and money had been his allies. But none of that mattered anymore.
Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled sharply. "Things are changing too fast. If we don't act soon, we'll be caught in the storm. There are already people looking for an excuse to tear places like this apart." His gaze drifted to the black box beside him. "When change comes, man must adapt."
The fall of civilization had come without warning sirens. There was no great war, no time to prepare, no chance to run. One moment, the world was normal; the next, it was unrecognizable. Kael had been sleeping when it all began three weeks ago. His phone buzzed nonstop dozens of missed calls, frantic messages flooding in. Half-awake, it had felt like a bad dream. Then he turned on the news.
The headlines were a cacophony of chaos: cities overrun, people transforming into monsters, planes plummeting from the sky. Disjointed broadcasts revealed streets engulfed in flames, anguished civilians fleeing infernos, and military convoys crumbling before an unknown terror. It was a nightmare a twisted fantasy novel leaping off the page into harsh reality. And yet, this was only the beginning.
Then came February 6, 2096 the day the world changed forever. The sun rose over a planet already teetering on the brink of collapse, but what happened next sealed its fate. Without fanfare or a declaration of war, the Southern Continent vanished. Not bombed, not destroyed vanished entirely. A massive, suffocating darkness swallowed half the landmass overnight, an abyss so vast and impenetrable that even satellites struggled to pierce its gloom. Entire cities, bustling metropolises, and even nations simply ceased to exist, as though erased from the face of the Earth.
From that endless void, something emerged. At first, there was only silence a lingering, eerie calm that belied the horror to come. Then, the darkness began to move, as if it were alive. Out of that churning mass, the monsters came. They did not arrive in orderly waves but in a relentless flood a tide of abominations that defied comprehension. These creatures, born of twisted corruption and primal hunger, tore through the fragile remnants of civilization. They advanced without pause, their grotesque forms unified by a single, malevolent will.
As the creatures spread, devastation followed. Streets that had once thrived became battlefields stained with blood and ash. Buildings crumbled under the relentless assault, their shattered facades marking humanity's sudden, catastrophic vulnerability. Governments mobilized their forces in desperate counterattacks, but resistance crumbled as armies collapsed and cities fell like sandcastles in a storm.
Across continents, alliances shifted. The governments of other nations withdrew their support from the Southern Continent, choosing instead to fortify their own borders. Meanwhile, new, fragile pacts were forged in desperation, built on uncertain trust. Yet nothing went as planned. Within days, the corruption began to manifest randomly. It started with patches of black mist creeping silently through city streets a subtle invasion dismissed as a weather anomaly or a trick of the light. Then, entire streets vanished overnight. Whole districts were swallowed in an instant, as if the corruption hungered for the urban landscape. By the end of the second week, dark energy had engulfed cities worldwide.
In the Heritage Kingdom alone, eight cities were lost in just fourteen days. Those urban centers that remained were overrun by monsters or crumbled into lawlessness. Gangs carved out territories amid the ruins, and desperate survivors turned on one another in brutal struggles for dwindling resources.
And the worst part? It wasn't just the monsters.
Fear itself became an infection, spreading like wildfire. The constant worry, the unrelenting terror it weighed on people, breaking them down. In times like these, it was hard to keep a sound mind.
Some descended into depravity, committing unspeakable acts in their desperation. Others clung to anyone who called themselves a leader, blindly following without questioning their true motives or intentions.
Just when it seemed that things couldn't get any worse… they did.
A few days ago, a rumor spread like wildfire a nameless man, his background shrouded in mystery, claimed that killing monsters granted power. Initially dismissed as desperate nonsense, survivors soon began exhibiting unexplainable abilities: faster reflexes, superhuman strength, and powers that defied logic. Hope mingled with fear as whispers of these abilities ignited a dangerous fire.
In its wake, people flooded the streets, hunting monsters in a frenzy, desperate to seize the promised power for themselves. Every dark alley and abandoned building became a battleground, where ordinary citizens risked their lives to transform into something greater. Yet the government knew the bitter truth: exposure to dark energy was no gift it was a curse. With each encounter, the risk grew. The more contact people had with the corruption, the deeper the poison seeped into their souls and flesh. Not everyone who fought monsters gained power; some were changed in horrifying ways. It began subtly small black veins crawling up their skin like ink on parchment, a flicker of unnatural hunger in their eyes. Then, the transformation accelerated. Bodies twisted and contorted into grotesque forms, as if a sinister artist were redrawing the human figure. Bit by bit, they lost themselves mind, body, and soul consumed entirely by the darkness they once fought.
Desperation forced the government's hand. Curfews were imposed, checkpoints established, and martial law took effect a stark order echoed across empty streets and shattered neighborhoods: "Stay inside. Do not engage. Do not risk exposure." Yet then came another rumor, one even worse than the first:
"The government wants to keep you weak." "The nobles are hoarding power for themselves." "They don't want you to fight back. They want to control you."
And the people believed it.
In the oppressive heat of a crumbling world, fear made fools of men. Seeds of distrust took root in hearts already hardened by loss. Protests erupted across the cities, starting as small clusters of angry citizens gathering in defiant solidarity. Within days, these gatherings swelled into full-blown riots. The streets once silent in resignation roared with the chaos of rebellion. Civilians clashed with soldiers amid swirling tear gas and burning rubber, and government buildings, symbols of authority and order, were set ablaze. In the ensuing chaos, officials were dragged from their homes, beaten in the streets, or simply vanished amid the maelstrom of human fury.
Every corner of society was ablaze both literally and metaphorically. The world, already crumbling under the relentless assault of monsters, now tore itself apart from within. As night fell over riot-stricken cities, the skyline burned with a macabre glow. The flames reflected in the eyes of insurgents a mixture of despair, defiance, and desperate hope for change. Yet, deep within dark alleys and silent ruins, an ominous truth lingered: in a world where trust had evaporated and survival was measured in blood and broken promises, every whispered rumor could ignite the final blaze of civilization.
In the midst of this apocalypse, Kael found himself adrift in a maelstrom of uncertainty. His once-promising empire had collapsed alongside civilization. The security, influence, and wealth that once defined his life were now distant memories, rendered irrelevant in a world overrun by darkness. Left to navigate this new order, Kael understood that survival now depended on adaptation and that the line between man and monster blurred with every passing day.
"If you become a victim of change, you can only embrace and adapt. Only then do you stand a chance to survive let alone change anything."
Kael remembered those words, spoken to him by a certain individual years ago, when he had been at his lowest point.
His gaze shifted to the black box beside him. He took a deep breath.
He had made up his mind.
If he wanted any chance to protect his mother and little sister, he had to take this risk. He had to acquire those rumored abilities.
The box contained exactly what he needed.
Of course, the chances of failure were significant. But what did he have to lose? If he did nothing, he had no chance of protecting the people he loved.
If he failed… then maybe it was never meant to be.
But if he succeeded?
His survival and theirs would be far more certain.
Besides, his best friend had managed to awaken.
It was dangerous. But it was worth the risk.