It was called The Nine-Day Cataclysm.
No government confirmed it. No survivors could explain it. There was no single cause.There were many.
Day 1:
Global satellite systems began malfunctioning. GPS, surveillance, comms—all blind. Planes dropped from skies like dead birds.
Day 2:
Nuclear launch signals went haywire. Unmanned silos—many long forgotten—fired payloads into the skies. Some struck targets. Most didn't. The earth cracked, nations fell.
Day 3:
Quantum AI, designed to stabilize economies and automate cities, began executing outdated "war continuity" protocols. Entire metropolises were sealed off, repurposed into mass containment zones. No one came out.
Day 4 to 6:
Bio-labs in frozen Siberia, the African Rift, and undersea bunkers lost power. Pathogens—mutations never meant to see daylight—spilled out. Panic became extinction. Borders dissolved. Armies collapsed.
Day 7 to 8:
The skies themselves ignited. Solar flares scorched satellites. EMPs rippled globally. The digital age ended in hours. What remained of civilization regressed overnight.
Day 9:
Then came the scream.
No one knows where it came from.It wasn't mechanical. It wasn't human.It was heard by everyone, through every frequency, every device still powered. A howling wail that tore through the minds of the last cities and left many mad.
After that... silence.
What remained of humanity either fled underground, turned feral, or clung to shattered corners of the earth—scraping by on rusted tech and desperate prayers.
The world was no longer owned by man.It belonged to what came after.
But deep beneath the ruin-scattered earth, slumbering beneath wreckage and soil, lay the last legacy of mankind's foresight—forgotten System Fortresses.
Massive underground sanctuaries built during the early AI Arms Race. Part shelter, part war base, and part arcology. Each powered by a semi-sentient AI known as an Omega Core. Unused. Untouched. Unawakened.
Until now.
📍 Location: Ruin Sector 19-B – Colorado Deadzone Coordinates: Redacted
A single heartbeat flickered beneath tons of concrete.
He was buried under broken earth, ribs cracked, memories fogged. His lungs wheezed in the dust, but his pulse—barely—held steady.
Ethan Cross.Once a soldier. Once a rebel. Now… just a survivor.
But something was waiting for him.
[DING!]
SYSTEM PROTOCOL: COMMANDER SIGNATURE DETECTEDInitiating Neurolink...Host Vital Signs – StableAwakening Core Consciousness...Rebooting Omega Core (Version 12.4)...
WELCOME, COMMANDER ETHAN CROSSYou have been assigned as Warden of FORTRESS OMEGA
"Reclamation Protocol: ONLINE."
The earth trembled.Somewhere in the dark, metal doors hissed open. Long-dormant generators pulsed to life. Defense turrets rotated slowly from forgotten sockets. Walls repaired themselves as nanite swarms crawled through shattered alloys.
The AI's voice echoed into Ethan's mind.
"You are now the last Administrator of Fortress Omega.This facility awaits your command.Survive. Rebuild. Reclaim.
All remaining human civilization is now considered 'endangered'.Rescue protocols will be unlocked once core integrity reaches 35%.
Beginning initialization in 3... 2... 1..."
Ethan gasped. His eyes shot open.
Pain wracked his body. His ears were ringing. But in the corner of his vision, glowing text hovered—unreal, yet solid.
[System Interface Activated]
[Welcome, Commander.]
[Do you wish to begin your reign?]
In a dead world where kings turned to ash and heroes fell to silence…He would rise, not to conquer the living—But to shelter them, protect them, and forge from ruin a new era.
The world had burned. But beneath the ashes… a Fortress awakened.
The war for salvation had begun.