A whole century ago, in the world of Terra, which was brimming with modern technology, AI advancement, and a medically enhanced society, several hundreds of gates suddenly arrived all over the world.
Their shapes resembled carved stones from ancient ruins, completely closed yet big enough to reach the height of a three-story building, hovering 50 feet above the ground.
Deserts, oceans, and metropolitan cities—every place had a gate above it.
The distance between the gates was more than five hundred miles, yet their organized patterns made humanity feel both curious and threatened.
Then, science itself started to fail.
The known laws of physics and biology began to shift. It was like something out of a fantasy novel. A strange energy, unknown to Earth, began leaking from every gate, slowly mixing with the planet's natural forces.
It changed the world.
But the effects were slow. For years, nothing major happened.
Then, people who should have died in terrible accidents—electrocution, radiation, fire—started to survive.
Not just survive, but come back... changed.
They had powers.
Abilities no human had ever possessed.
First, governments captured these people and experimented on them, hiding their existence.
But eventually, more and more began to appear.
It was like a virus.
Unpredictable. Without pattern. Then the animals mutated. Then the insects.
Insects were the most sensitive to the energy, mutating faster than anything else.
Giant ants, armored wasps, and fire-breathing beetles started invading lands.
Human armies struggled. Missiles were no longer enough.
Guns failed against their armored shells.
In the end, the same superpowered people who had once been locked away became humanity's only hope. They fought back. They became heroes.
The war against monsters lasted decades. But humans are stubborn.
They united. Countries stopped fighting over borders and started investing together.
Trade wars stopped, replaced by resource sharing.
AI warfare shifted towards battlefield simulations and predicting monster movements.
The global economy changed overnight.
Weapon manufacturing, biotech industries, and power-enhancement labs exploded in value. Stock markets transformed.
A new economy was born—the Superhuman Economy.
And with that came the rise of twenty global mega-corporations, each controlled by the world's richest families.
They focused on newly emerging sectors—Genetic Binding Tech, Artificial Core Engineering, Bio-Fusion Armor, Monster Material Processing, and Reality Code Simulations—fields that didn't even exist a hundred years ago.
These families turned knowledge into wealth, and wealth into influence.
One such name among them was the Blac Corporation, owned by the Blac family, a very wealthy yet massively conservative family known for their belief in God, based in the old European zones.
They specialized in something no one else dared to touch—Psionic Transfer Interfaces, machines that could allow humans to project their consciousness into mutated creatures, gaining insights, and sometimes close to control—though the limitations currently were up to sharing vision but future advancements were possible.
There were even rumors that they had found ways to link human minds directly to the strange energy leaking from the gates, making them one of the few with access to "clean" power evolution.
Though no smoke forms without fire, there was something but not completely what it was spread as rumors.
Other families focused on different areas—one created smart cities protected by dome-like barriers using monster bones as core material; another dominated the food sector with high-nutrient, beast-based crops. Some monopolized superpower licensing; others handled training academies and mutation prediction centers.
Each family had its territory.
Each had its secrets.
And all were watching—for the gates had never stopped humming, while trying to decode ruins carved in stone still slept… waiting.
In the mountains of Montserrat, Spain, stood a massive mansion owned by the sole heir of the Blac Corporation. Surrounded by towering peaks and a vast private estate, the property reflected the quiet prestige of one of the richest families in Terra.
Inside one of its many rooms, moonlight filtered through the wide balcony—spacious enough to host a gathering, yet silent tonight, humming only with the stillness of the hour. It streamed across the bed, falling on the man lying there.
'I'm really back.'
Eyes blinking slowly, Cruxius stared at the high ceiling—its distinct pattern, etched into plaster with golden inlays, was all the proof he needed.
No one else carved their ceilings like this. No one but Blacs.
The nostalgia bit deep as he sat up, muscles flexing, the sheet sliding down his bare torso.
"Do you need anything, Master?" came a voice nearby.
Turning his head, he spotted her—Darithi—standing like a shadow in the half-light, sword in hand, dressed in crisp black suit pants and a fitted blazer that hugged her athletic frame. Silver-lensed glasses rested on her sharp nose, dark hair cascading to her shoulders like ink.
"Hm..."
He kept his eyes on her for a moment, lips twitching into a faint smile before he spoke.
"Change that stupid sword, Darithi. It'll get you killed someday."
'!'
"Y-yes?" she stammered, visibly thrown off. Of all things to say in the middle of the night, her young master said those ominous words which, as a warning, struck the deepest.
That sword—passed down her family—was something she took pride in. She glanced at the obsidian katana in her grip, then back at him, puzzled.
However, Cruxius felt his palm press against something warm and squishy, leading his eyes to glance beside him on the bed.
"Hah... a virgin?" Cruxius muttered to himself, lifting his body further as his gaze fell to the side where a red flower bud bloomed on the white bedsheet.
A young woman lay sprawled across the bed, her naked body half-tangled in crumpled sheets. Her skin was flushed, glistening faintly with sweat under the moonlight.
Breasts marked with red hickeys rose and fell gently with her breaths, the soft curve of her waist dipping toward her hips, and her thighs still faintly trembling from exhaustion—dried bodily fluids splattered all over the bed.
Strands of dark hair clung to her cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she slept, eyes damp from the tears of pain or pleasure—maybe both.
As he stood up, he noticed he was still naked, his cock softening as he ruffled his hair with a sigh.
He remembered now—back in college, he had been a reckless playboy.
"She approached you during the fresher's party. You were the one who brought her here, young master," Darithi said, sparing a glance toward the sleeping girl. Only a thin corner of the blanket covered her, exposing most of her bare back and legs. The hickeys scattered across her neck and chest stood out stark against pale skin, like bruises of passion.
It was common for Darithi to see him regularly with some new women, and it was also habitual for him to tell her about all those women when he woke up.
"I remember her," Cruxius replied, understanding why Darithi felt the need to explain. In his old life, he had slept with so many women that faces, names, and moans blurred into forgettable nights.
But not this one, nor this time.
This time, he wouldn't forget a thing.
Because this was the moment it all began—the moment that twisted everything.
The day he first realized his powers.
This was the night he would die.
"Darithi," he said, slipping into his pants, the familiar fabric grounding him in the present. "Tell the alpha teams to equip ultrasonic vibrating bullets."
He paused for a moment by the window, moonlight catching his bare back as the wind stirred the curtains. His voice dropped to a cold whisper, one that cut through the silence like steel.
"A superhero is about to attack us."