The sky above Kairo City had never screamed before.
It was the kind of afternoon people forgot easily—dusty heat hanging in the air, market vendors shouting prices, children chasing a deflated ball through narrow streets. Sixteen-year-old Kade Orion stood on the rooftop of his family's apartment, arms crossed, eyes narrowed against the sun. Sweat clung to his neck, but he didn't move.
He was waiting for the pressure.
It always came before it happened.
A dull throb pulsed behind his eyes, like a heartbeat that didn't belong to him. Kade clenched his fists.
"Not now," he muttered. "Please… not now."
Below him, the city buzzed—ignorant, alive, fragile.
Then the air shifted.
Wind rushed upward instead of down, yanking loose papers and dust into spirals. The clouds overhead twisted unnaturally, folding in on themselves like torn fabric being stitched back together. Conversations died mid-sentence. People looked up.
And the sky cracked.
Not with thunder—but with light.
A jagged line split the heavens, glowing white-violet, stretching from horizon to horizon. The sound that followed wasn't loud; it was heavy, like the universe groaning under its own weight.
Kade staggered back. His chest burned.
"Dad was right…" he whispered.
The crack widened—and something fell.
A blazing object tore through the clouds, wrapped in crackling energy, descending far too fast to be a meteor. It slammed into the abandoned industrial zone on the city's edge with an impact that shook buildings and shattered windows.
The shockwave threw Kade off his feet.
Sirens erupted instantly.
Smoke rose in a towering pillar, dark and pulsing, like it was breathing.
Every instinct in Kade screamed one word: Go.
He didn't question it.
The industrial zone was sealed off when Kade arrived, but fences had never stopped him before. He slipped through a gap, heart pounding as he sprinted toward the crater.
The closer he got, the heavier the air became—thick, electric, pressing against his skin. His ears rang. His veins felt like they were buzzing.
At the center of the destruction lay a massive crater, its edges glassed over by heat. And floating just above the cracked ground was a sphere.
It was the size of a basketball.
Jet-black.
Perfectly smooth.
Thin crimson lines crawled across its surface, forming a web-like pattern that pulsed slowly, rhythmically—like a living thing breathing.
Kade froze.
"…That's it," he breathed. "The Spiderball."
The words left his mouth before he realized he knew them.
The sphere reacted.
The crimson lines flared, and gravity vanished.
Kade was yanked forward, feet lifting off the ground as the Spiderball surged toward him. Panic exploded in his chest.
"WAIT—!"
The sphere slammed into his chest.
Pain detonated.
Not sharp—overwhelming.
Visions flooded his mind: ancient arenas, warriors clashing at impossible speeds, fists shattering mountains, bodies wrapped in glowing auras shaped like spinning webs. Voices echoed in a language he didn't understand—yet somehow did.
Only humans may bear the Web.
Only the strong survive the Binding.
Kade screamed as energy tore through his veins.
The Spiderball shattered into light, dissolving into thousands of glowing strands that wrapped around his body, sinking into his skin. His heartbeat thundered louder and louder until—
Silence.
Kade collapsed into the crater.
He woke to smoke and shouting.
Soldiers.
Black-armored figures surrounded the crater, weapons raised. Their insignia—a silver spider wrapped around a globe—gleamed under the emergency lights.
One of them stepped forward.
A woman.
Tall, athletic, her black hair tied back tightly. A long scar ran from her jaw to her ear. Her eyes locked onto Kade with surgical intensity.
"…So," she said calmly, "the Spiderball chose a child."
Kade struggled to sit up. His body felt wrong—lighter, denser, humming with restrained power.
"What… what did you do to me?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
Instead, she raised her hand.
Instantly, every soldier dropped to one knee.
Her gaze never left Kade.
"My name is Commander Nyx Vale," she said. "And as of today, your life no longer belongs to you."
Kade's fists clenched. The ground beneath him cracked.
"I didn't agree to anything."
Nyx's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile.
"The Spiderball doesn't ask," she replied. "It awakens."
Suddenly, the air ripped apart again—this time behind her.
A second tear opened in space, darker than the first, pulsing violently. From within it stepped a man—bare-chested, battle-scarred, eyes glowing a predatory red. A twisted spider-mark burned across his torso.
Nyx stiffened.
"…Impossible," she whispered.
The man grinned.
"So this is the new host," he said, cracking his neck. "Huh. He looks breakable."
Kade felt something inside him answer—a surge of heat, rage, instinct.
The stranger raised his hand.
The ground exploded.
And the sky screamed again.