Without warning, the sky fractured.
A shimmering projection unfolded high above Earth, casting an eerie, spectral glow over cities and countrysides alike. Traffic slowed. Conversations faltered. Across time zones and continents, millions lifted their eyes as one.
And then—silence.
The image bloomed, slow and surreal: an alien forest under the light of three suns. Serene, at first. Deceptively still. Until motion stirred the stillness.
Lira appeared.
She moved cautiously between towering trees, her posture wary, instincts taut—but not taut enough.
Behind her, a shadow glided, just out of reach. Invisible to her, but unmistakably clear to those below.
Then came the ambush.
The scene changed with brutal precision. Lira spun, reacting a breath too late. The projection captured every beat of the attack—each strike, each parry, each wound—with unflinching clarity.
No sound.
But her agony was visible. Her eyes, wide with terror. Her mouth, open in a scream no one could hear.
She fought with everything she had—reflex, discipline, survival. But her opponent was faster. Smarter. Unforgiving. Each blow stripped something away: her defense, her strength, her humanity.
And then—
She fell.
Lifeless.
Marked.
On Earth, the silence grew heavy.
A voice finally broke through the horror:
"It's… worse than I imagined."
Another followed, voice cracking:
"The real culprit. He was there the whole time. Just watching. Waiting."
The image shifted again.
Kaelen emerged from the shadows—tall, formidable, eyes like frozen steel. His presence demanded silence. Reverence. Fear.
"That's Kaelen," someone whispered. "One of the most feared combatants in the Trials. Lightning-fast. Lethal."
"But he's not the one who killed her," another muttered bitterly. "He's here to avenge her. But he's wrong."
Then, a new figure appeared on the screen.
Caspian Reyes
Military Systems Engineer
Gamer
...
Confusion rippled through the crowd.
"A systems engineer? Against Kaelen?"
But the projection offered no time for doubt.
The clash began.
Kaelen struck like lightning—fluid, punishing, precise. But Caspian didn't flinch. He moved like a man who had studied chaos and made it orderly. He deflected, countered, adapted. Every strike met not with panic—but with calculated resistance.
"He's holding his own," someone gasped.
"That shouldn't be possible."
"He's reading Kaelen… like code."
The disbelief shifted—into awe.
They watched not just a battle—but a transformation.
Caspian Reyes wasn't just surviving.
He was evolving.
When the projection flickered, dimmed, and finally vanished, Earth was left breathless.
The silence that followed wasn't just stunned.
It was reverent.
And then one voice, soft and grim, broke through the stillness:
"If these players fail… Earth will fall."
And in that moment, a thought took root in the minds of millions.
Maybe—just maybe—Caspian Reyes was the one who could stop that from happening.