The sky over London looked like it had been torn open by a god's claw.
Black and gold lightning forked across the clouds, illuminating the smoking skyline. The Thames churned with unnatural waves, as if the river itself was panicking.
And in the middle of it all, heroes and villains clashed — not in the clean, choreographed way news stations liked to show, but in the raw, ugly reality of war.
A dozen armored figures sprinted across the cracked streets, each leaving glowing trails of energy behind them. One woman, clad in a white-and-gold exosuit, hurled spears of light that exploded on impact. Her target — a grinning, horned monstrosity — caught them mid-air, crushed them in its claws, and hurled them back like toys. The resulting blast shattered windows for three blocks.
From a distance, it looked like something out of a comic book.
Up close, it was hell.
Harvey Gordon ducked into the shattered doorway of a small café, his hands trembling. The air smelled like blood and ozone. His phone was dead. His ears rang from the constant concussive blasts outside.
Across the room, his parents crouched behind an overturned table. His mother's hair was streaked with dust and her glasses hung crookedly from one ear. His father clutched a wrench in one hand like it could do anything against the monsters outside.
"Stay down, Harvey!" his father barked over the noise.
"I am staying down!" Harvey shot back, voice cracking despite himself. "Jesus, what the hell is going on out there?"
The café windows pulsed with a flickering light, as if the sun was strobing. Through the gaps in the barricade, Harvey caught glimpses — the golden arc of a hero's blade, the brutal snap of a villain's arm striking like a whip, people screaming as they ran in every direction.
"Heroes will handle it," his mother said, though her voice lacked conviction. "They always do."
Harvey wanted to believe her. He really did. But every blast that shook the floor, every crack of breaking stone, every scream outside told him the truth — this wasn't being handled. This was chaos, and no one was in control.
A sudden whump of air pressure hit, knocking Harvey flat. The front of the café exploded inward as a blast wave tore through the street. Heat slammed into him, stealing his breath. The air was filled with glass, splinters, and dust.
Through the haze, a shape emerged — a villain the size of a bus, skin like molten rock, roaring as it hurled a burning car into the street. A hero intercepted, but the impact detonated in a wall of flame.
Harvey scrambled to his parents, heart hammering. "We have to move—"
The next explosion wasn't a single blast. It was a chain reaction. A hero's energy beam tore into a fuel truck, and the truck went up like a miniature sun. The blast wave didn't knock Harvey over — it lifted him off the floor and threw him against the back wall. He felt his ribs snap before his head hit the concrete.
Pain flared white, then dimmed into nothing.
The last thing he saw was his mother's outstretched hand, fingers reaching for him through the dust and flame… before she was swallowed by the fire.
Harvey expected darkness.
He got emptiness.
An endless, black void stretched in all directions. No up, no down. Just him, floating in a weightless abyss.
His voice came out hoarse, trembling. "Hello? Where… where am I?"
No answer. Just the echo of his own words fading into the nothing.
Then, a sound — not quite a voice, not quite a thought, but something that slithered between them.
[Welcome, Harvey Gordon.]
Harvey's heart lurched. "What— who's there?"
[I am the Forbidden System.]
A faint shape began to materialize in front of him. Not a person, but a shifting constellation of red and black light, swirling and reforming like a living galaxy. It pulsed with a slow, deliberate rhythm, like it was breathing.
[Your life has ended. You died in a battle between those who claim to be protectors and those who seek to destroy.]
Harvey's hands clenched. "Yeah, no shit. I noticed."
[I have chosen you. I can grant you anything you desire. Power beyond comprehension. Abilities without limit. Freedom without consequence.]
The words were smooth, seductive — and they didn't sound like a sales pitch. They sounded like truth.
Harvey hesitated. "Why me?"
[Because you hate them.]
It was so blunt it almost hurt.
[The heroes who failed you. The villains who killed you. The world that forgot you. You hate them all. And hatred, Harvey Gordon, is the purest fuel for power.]
The void seemed to grow warmer, as if the System's presence was wrapping around him.
[There will be no rules. No restrictions. Whatever you desire, I will make reality. You will be free to destroy or to create as you wish. All I require is your answer.]
A glowing interface appeared in front of him. Simple text, floating in the void:
Do you want to be the System's Host?
(Yes / No)
Harvey stared at it.
He thought of his parents' faces. Of the blast that tore them away. Of the heroes who hadn't even looked back.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Yes."
Light swallowed him whole.
His eyes snapped open — and the world was different. Every detail was sharp, every sound layered with meaning. He could hear the heartbeat of a rat in the alley three streets away. He could feel the heat signatures of survivors still hiding in the rubble. Energy thrummed through his veins, raw and boundless, begging to be used.
In the shattered reflection of a shop window, he saw himself:
Eyes glowing crimson. Veins etched faintly with black energy. A faint smile that felt right.
The Forbidden System's voice coiled in his head.
[Welcome back, Host.]
Miles above the Earth, in an orbiting citadel of gold and steel, a council of seven gathered around a pulsating sphere of light.
The eldest Guardian, a man with skin like carved marble, frowned. "What is that surge? I've never felt anything like it."
A woman in robes traced glowing symbols in the air. "It's coming from London… but it's wrong. It's ancient. It's forbidden."
Another Guardian's eyes widened. "Impossible. That power was sealed eons ago."
The sphere pulsed again, and for a heartbeat, the image of a young man with crimson eyes flickered in its depths.
The eldest Guardian's voice was grim.
"He's returned."
Far below, in the ruins of London, Harvey Gordon stepped into the street, stretching his arms like a man waking from a nap.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the System chuckled.
The game had begun.