The world was never truly silent.
It simply felt this way because humanity wasn't listening.
In Yokohama, the morning began just like any other morning. Trains cut through the bustling city, steel sliding over steel, doors opening on time with bodies flowing in and out of stations like a tide that didn't remember it was made of individuals. Convenience stores restocked shelves under bright fluorescent lights. Delivery bikers cutting corners too sharply whilst a group of students on their way to school arguing over something trivial with the kind of intensity only the young could afford. Screens flickered awake above storefronts, broadcasting the same headlines they had broadcast yesterday and would broadcast tommorrow; stock markets, the latest celebrity scandals, political debates that always ended exactly where they started. Somewhere above the bay, seagulls circled and screamed as if they were the only creatures in the city. A salty breeze rolled in from the water whilst exhaust and warm bread fought for dominance in the air. The city truly felt alive.
Nothing felt off.
Yet across the city, instruments buried beneath the concrete began to register anomalies.
Magnetic fluctuations, subtle at first, the kind of readings technicians normally blamed on faulty equipment. But then it repeated. And then it repeated again and again. Atmospheric pressure distortions, spreading across different districts, different systems, different networks. Strange energy that was not registered on any system.
At 08:27 am, the Japanese government classified it as an Irregular event.
At 08:30 am, the classification was changed to Elemental Manifestations: Confirmed
At 08:33 am, the whole world was informed.
The broadcast interrupted everything.
Phones vibrated in union. Public serves cut to black before switching into a familiar flag, simple, restrained and unmistakably official. A woman's voice followed, calm and commanding yet unable to fully mask the heavy weight behind her words.
"This is a joint international announcement under the Global Elemental Accord."
The word elemental landed heavily.
It wasn't new.
Not really.
Governments have acknowledged the existence of Elementals years ago, entities, realms, phenomena that defied physics itself. They existed beyond the reach of humanity, beyond its borders and into the stars. Dangerous, distant, and carefully contained.
Or so people were told.
"At approximately 8:25 am, dormant elemental DNA within the human population began activating. This activation may occur in individuals of any age, provided they carry dormant elemental genetic traces. Manifestations may be minor or severe. In rare cases, manifestations may be immediately dangerous to the individual or those nearby."
Screens across Yokohama showed diagrams. DNA helixes overlaid with unfamiliar and unique patterns. Energy signatures branching where none should exist.
"This process is referred to as the Awakening."
A deathly silence followed, not the absence of sound, but the absence of certainty, the absence of normality. Parents stopped walking, students froze, eyes piercing their phones. Somewhere, an old man laughed once, sharp and disbelieving.
"There is no immediate cause for panic."
The lie was gentle. Necessary.
"Individuals displaying unusual abilities are advised to remain calm and await official assistance."
The broadcast ended.
The city exhaled.
And then –
The hospital froze.
Literally.
Room 302 was supposed to be warm.
Machines hummed softly in the background. Monitors pulsed with steady green lines. A single child lay in the bed, no older than 8, wrapped in blankets too big for him. His breathing was shallow, uneven and fogging the air in white clouds.
Nurses noticed first.
The temperature dropped by 10 degrees in under a minute.
Metal rails crystalised. IV lines turned brittle. Frost crept across the walls like veins forming underneath the skin.
"Get back!" someone shouted.
Too late.
Water spilled from a tipped tray mid-air and stopped, suspended before snapping into perfect, razor-edged ice.
At the centre of it all, the boy opened his eyes.
They weren't glowing nor were they monstrous.
They were terrified.
"I didn't mean to" he whispered.
The ice answered anyway. Outside across Yokohama, other awakenings were happening, one after the other, in a crescendo of chaos. A streetlight bent, somewhere a man screamed as sparks burst from his fingertips. In a classroom, a girl's hair lifted as if caught in a wind that didn't exist. Room 302 was the first to become a symbol. The first place the world would point and say, this was all real.
Far above Yokohama, clouds twisted into unnatural shapes.
Not storms.
Not weather.
Something else.
The sky folded inward, as if reality took a deep breath.
And then it opened.
A tear, not silent, not sudden but deliberate.
Through it spilled energy that did not belong to Earth.
Figures emerged. Tall. Still. Inhuman.
Elementals.
They did not attack nor did they say a word. They simply arrived. Military aircrafts circled from a distance. Drones hovered, cameras trembling, operators sweating in control rooms as they tried to control an impossible situation. Barriers put up and satellites locked onto the breach with desperate precision.
On the ground, people stared upwards, hands shielding their eyes, hearts pounding, mouths open as if they were frozen in time.
A figure emerged from the rift.
A man floating in the sky, the air flowing through his long white hair. His clothing was layered and ceremonial, yet was built for war. At his side hovered a spear, lightning wrapped around it like chains. The wind wrapped around his body as if embracing an old friend. He looked down at Yokohama as if he was studying a piece of art.
"The Warden of the North greets you, humanity." He spoke softly, yet everyone could hear the strange man as if he was speaking right in front of them. This was not an invasion.
This was a declaration. In Seoul, people poured into the streets, staring at their phones and then glanced towards the sky in anticipation, as if they were expecting a rift to open above them too. In Beijing, officals in a conference room sat still as alarms screamed, then stopped abruptly, being replaced by the same voice from the broadcast. One man's hands shook as he soon realised the global agreement he had read about in classified meetings weren't just theoretical. In Mumbai a teenage boy stared at his palms as water pooled into his hands from no visible source. In Bangkok, a woman working in a restaurant dropped a tray when poison oozed out of her fingertips, leaving puddles of acid, the scent of acidic fumes filling the air. All across Asia, the same question rippled through the continent in different languages. Why now?
Above Yokohama, the Warden of the North answered the question without being asked. "I am charged with oversight of all of Asia," he said flatly, "and all elementals operating within it." A murmur spread through the crowd below, feelings of dread and disbelief. This wasn't just a visitor. This was a ruler. The Warden lifted his spear a fraction. The wind stopped immediately. Flags froze mid-air. Leaves hung motionless in the air. A helicopter hovering nearby shuddered as if it's rotors had hit invisible glass, then steadied, trapped in a pocket of air that refused to move. People gaped. Some screamed. People fell to their knees without understanding why. The Warden's eyes scanned the crowd measuring. "Your governments have been informed for years," he said. "They have been preparing you in the only way you humans know how, with lies softened into comfort."
His staff tapped once. Lightning coiled around it, a snake made of electricity. A spear of wind shot downward and carved a perfect line through the harbour water without touching the boats. The sea parted as if sliced by an invisible blade. For 5 seconds, Yokohama saw the seabed and with a thunderous roar the water returned crashing together. No one cheered, or even moved. They knew deep down that demonstration was not to impress, no it was to teach a lesson.
We can kill you if we wanted to.
The Warden lowered his staff. "Order will be maintained, " he said eyeing the humans below him with conviction. "No matter the cost." The words settled over Asia with smothering silence.
At the edge of the city, standing on the highest structure overlooking the bay, a lone figure watched it all unfold. A woman. Her coat remained stationary against the strong winds and her cold expression did not change when the sky tore open, nor did it change when the Elementals crossed through.
She had seen this before.
Not here.
Not now.
But she was familiar with this moment. "So," she whispered softly, her voice more tired than surprised.
"It begins."
Behind her, hidden beneath the training, the memories that stretched over many millennia, something stirred.
Something dark.
She turned away from the sky.
There were children to protect. And others… who would never be allowed to exist.
The world would call this day the First Visit. Historians would debate causes. Politicians would argue control. Scholars would argue definitions. But none of them would understand the truth. This was not the arrival of gods. This was not the ascension of humanity either. This was the beginning of an era. An age not ruled yet.
But being born.
The Age of Sovereigns.