They said the world ended thirty years ago.
They were wrong.
It didn't end. It evolved.
When the skies split open and the lands twisted into alien shapes, when magic leaked into the bones of reality and cities crumbled into forests of steel and flame—we learned that our Earth wasn't the only one out there.
Another world crashed into ours—one of monsters, mana, and impossible laws. From their collision, a new realm was born. The world became twenty times larger than it was prior to it. And yet, gravity didn't increase. It was as if the mana that bled into the world made everything... lighter.
They called it The Great Collision.
The Americas were swallowed by shifting voids and untamed ruins. Africa became home to storms that whispered names. Australia? No one had heard from there in twenty-eight years.
In the chaos, survivors fled toward the Eurasian landmass. The remnants of governments formed the Sovereign Accord, a last-ditch alliance forged from fear and necessity. Cities rose like fortresses—walls of steel, turrets humming with arcane light, defended by the only people who could stand against the new world.
Explorers.
Those blessed with a System—a glowing interface burned into the soul. Some said it was magic. Others, divine intervention. But everyone agreed, without one, you were a bug waiting to be crushed.
Only 20% of people awakened.
I wasn't one of them.
Vandrelis was beautiful—at least on the surface. Neon sigils lit up the underways. Skyrisers pulsed with mana reactors. Flying transports zipped through regulated mana currents. But like all beauty, it hid rot underneath.
My name is Darian.
I was nineteen, and I was born here.
And today, I was going to die.
I saw the murder with my own eyes.
A man in black—tall, armored in flickering azure light—plunged his sword into another's chest. No words. No warning. Just death. Quick and clinical.
Then he looked at me.
Not like a person. Like a tiger interrupted mid-hunt.
And I ran.
Down twisting alleys. Through wards that hadn't worked since the last mana flare. My breath burned. My legs screamed.
But he was faster.
He appeared in front of me. I crashed into him.
Through his helmet, I saw it—he smiled.
Instinct took over. I ran again, driven by something deeper than thought.
I dared to look back.
His sword was already mid-swing.
It was over.
I was about to die.
And then—then it happened.
The old bridge near the southern edge of the city. Broken for years, fenced off, forgotten.
I didn't stop.
I didn't think.
One misstep.
And I fell.
The world stretched.
The air pulled.
I didn't feel wind. I felt weightlessness—as if I'd fallen out of reality itself. Sound dulled. Time stuttered. There was no impact.
Only silence.
I opened my eyes.
I was lying in the center of a vast, ancient hall.
Stone pillars. Huge. The floor was made of some weird looking marble, dark. It had white glowing threads. They were pulsing, like they surged power throughout the place.
The ceiling was not even visible.
This place was bigger than anything I have ever seen.
To my side stood dozens—no, hundreds—of black statues. Humanoid. Faceless. Their arms raised skyward as if in praise or agony.
And then I heard it.
A voice. Or many, speaking as one.
It filled the entire chamber, sliding into my mind.
Androgynous. Eternal. Like a god speaking through a broken radio.
"Trial Initiated. Willpower calibration in progress."
"Candidate: Unawakened. Status: Accepted."
"Welcome to the Trial."
Then—another voice. Softer. Feminine.
Somehow colder.
"Welcome, child. You will be presented with multiple trials."
"If a fragile little thing like you manages to beat them, you will be rewarded..."
"Begin."
My heart raced. My limbs wouldn't respond. I felt like prey again.
This ominous feeling was piercing me from all angles.
There was something watching me.
No—
Everything was watching me.
And then—
One of the statues twitched.