The panic was sudden and indifferent, swallowing every person on Vaelion without mercy. No warnings. No explanations. Just chaos erupting across continents as purple cracks split the sky and monsters poured through. People froze in streets, screamed in homes, or ran blindly toward anywhere that still felt safe. Confusion reigned—mothers clutching children, drivers abandoning cars, workers dropping tools mid-shift. Some wept in terror at the deaths unfolding around them. Others, eyes gleaming with mad excitement, whispered about magic finally being real, their childhood fantasies crashing into nightmare.
Gunjan Aether was in Dubai, at the edge of the Aaryavarta Union continent. The only thing she knew for certain was that the purple sky wasn't limited to this area. It stretched everywhere.
She carried the unconscious Vanya on her back, chains secured tightly around them both. As she moved through the panicked crowds, she noticed something strange. People around her were acting weird—staring upward, murmuring to the empty air as if conversing with invisible entities. Their faces shifted from fear to focus, then to something almost euphoric.
Then the marks appeared.
A glowing tattoo etched itself onto every living person's left cheek—a four-pointed star, sharp and alien. Gunjan's eyes widened as she saw it spread like a wave. She glanced at Vanya. The same mark burned on her cheek too.
"What is happening?" Gunjan whispered to herself, heart hammering.
No time to think. Another wave of monsters descended—screeching, winged horrors diving toward the fleeing masses. Gunjan spun her chains, lashing out to clear a path while keeping Vanya protected. She sprinted toward what looked like a safer zone near the airport.
A civilian nearby suddenly raised his hand toward one of the beasts. With a shout, he unleashed a fireball from his bare palm. The flames struck true, exploding against the creature's hide. The man laughed in disbelief. "Oh my god! The system says my inner flux decreased by three points for using that perk!"
Others swarmed him immediately, bombarding him with questions. "How did you do that?" "What system?" "Can I get fire too?"
Gunjan kept running, confusion twisting deeper. "Wtf is happening? Why is everyone talking to the air? Am I missing something?"
She ignored the growing madness and pushed forward. A pack of large, mutated rats blocked their path, eyes glowing with unnatural hunger. Civilians around her reacted instantly—swords and spears materializing in their hands as if summoned. One spear crackled with thunder at its tip. Another fighter's fists ignited with flames. They charged the rats in a chaotic frenzy, magic and weapons tearing through the swarm.
Gunjan couldn't believe what she was seeing. Had she missed an opportunity? Or was this some kind of curse?
By sheer luck and relentless movement, their group reached the nearby airport. The terminal was already packed with survivors—hundreds crammed into the halls, faces pale with shock. Gunjan found a corner and gently lowered Vanya, checking her breathing. The mark on Vanya's cheek still glowed faintly.
After surviving the initial onslaught, Gunjan's mind kept replaying the horror: her newly born grandson buried under hospital rubble, Manya's torso ripped apart in front of her. The images refused to fade. She sat against the wall, chains coiled beside her, trying to breathe through the crushing grief.
Some time later, Vanya stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion quickly turning to panic as memories flooded back. "Manya… the baby…"
Gunjan pulled her into a tight embrace, voice breaking. "I know. I know. I'm here. We're still here." They held each other, comforting through shared tears and silent sobs. Two broken women clinging to the only thing left—each other.
But safety was an illusion. As hours passed inside the locked-down airport, the true colors of humanity began to bleed through.
Paper money lost all value almost instantly. People fought over bottled water and packaged food scavenged from shops and planes. The strong—those who had awakened combat perks or raw physical power—claimed the best spots. A group of armed survivors took over the executive lounge, barring others with threats and newly manifested weapons. Shouts echoed through the terminal as weaker people were pushed aside or forced to trade belongings for scraps.
Gunjan watched it all with hollow eyes, keeping Vanya close. She had no interest in the power struggles. Her only focus was survival and the faint, desperate hope that the baby might still be out there somewhere. The purge had stripped away civilization in hours. What remained was raw, ugly, and unforgiving.
The purple sky outside continued to crack wider. The monsters never stopped coming.