In a vast, colossal hall dimly lit by faint lights reflecting off the black walls, an ancient aura radiated from a grand throne positioned at the very center. Seated upon it was a figure, head lowered, long hair cascading down as one hand rested on the throne's armrest.
Suddenly, the figure's eyes opened.
A heavy aura surged forth, carrying the weight of the cosmos, shaking the entire hall with its intensity. His gaze was unfocused at first, his pupils scattered and devoid of clarity. But then, his eyes steadied, locking onto the ceiling above, where a planetary system-like mural was etched—interconnected by glowing threads of light.
In a voice laced with the echoes of ages, he muttered:
"What a dream…"
He then closed his eyes once more.
The overwhelming atmosphere of the hall faded into stillness once again.
⸻
At exactly 7:00 AM, the shrill sound of an alarm clock pierced the silence, signaling the start of a new day. It rang annoyingly, as if trying to awaken the entire world from a deep slumber.
Slowly, a young man with thick black hair and dark eyes opened his lids. He groaned as he pressed the snooze button, his face marked with exhaustion and frustration.
"Damn work… and having to get up for it,"
he muttered, eyes closing again briefly.
He stretched out lazily on the bed, feet finally touching the floor before he pulled himself upright.
⸻
Zephyr's room was a constant mess of clothing—some scattered on the floor, some draped over a chair, and others hanging precariously off the bed's edge. Comic books and half-opened novels cluttered the desk like silent companions.
Dragging himself toward the bathroom, he opened the door sluggishly. Upon entering, he looked into the mirror, ran a hand through his hair, and smirked.
"Damn… I'm too handsome. Women must feel blessed to see this face every day."
He chuckled sarcastically at his reflection, washed his face, dried his hair, and returned to the room in search of a shirt.
After several frustrating minutes, he finally found one—under the bed.
Throwing it on carelessly, he rummaged through a pile of clothes until he found a pair of pants, not even bothering to check if they were clean.
⸻
Descending the stairs, he could hear the sounds of frying from the kitchen, accompanied by the low hum of a television.
In the kitchen stood a middle-aged woman by the stove, preparing breakfast. At the table sat a man with a remote in hand, watching the news with half-lidded indifference.
In the corner sat a little girl, no older than seven, pale-skinned with long black hair cascading down to her waist. Her wide black eyes sparkled with innocence as she played with two dolls.
Zephyr sat beside her, gently ruffling her hair.
"Morning, Rini."
Without looking up, she replied in a soft voice:
"Morning, big brother."
He smiled, watching her fondly. Their mother soon joined them, setting down a plate of fried eggs and sausages in front of Zephyr, along with a steaming cup of tea.
"Where's Jeff, Mom?"
he asked while lifting his fork.
Jeff was his older brother, a medical student buried in textbooks and lectures. Unlike Jeff, Zephyr had dropped out of university early and opened a small shop in the neighborhood—dreaming of wealth someday.
Born into a middle-class family, Zephyr always longed for what his parents couldn't offer: status and fortune.
"He left early. Said he wanted to review for his exam,"
his mother replied calmly.
From behind a newspaper, their father chimed in sarcastically:
"At least he isn't chasing some foolish dream like someone I know."
Their mother shot him a sharp look, but Zephyr ignored the jab and laughed:
"When I strike it rich, Dad, I'll spoil you. Don't worry! Hahaha."
His father only shook his head dismissively, eyes still fixed on the news broadcast as Zephyr scarfed down his breakfast.
⸻
Once finished, he stood up, put on his shoes near the door, and called out:
"I'm off!"
He stepped outside, door clicking shut behind him, whistling a soft tune as he walked down the quiet street.
"Today… I'll hit the jackpot! It'll be a lucky, amazing day!"
But little did he know… his words sounded more like a curse.
⸻
Zephyr arrived at his modest store on the edge of the neighborhood, facing a quiet main road. He unlocked the door, switched on the lights, turned on the television, and slumped into his creaky wooden chair behind the counter—waiting for customers.
On the screen, a news anchor delivered local updates before the camera shifted to a serious-faced female presenter:
"We now bring breaking news from the International Space Agency.
Astronomers have reported strange cosmic phenomena occurring at the outskirts of our solar system.
Unknown high-temperature stellar explosions are gradually approaching Mars. Scientists have yet to determine their nature or origin."
The male anchor continued:
"The news has gone viral on social media, sparking public panic. Some even speculate this could mark the beginning of the end."
Zephyr scoffed:
"Nonsense…"
He grabbed the remote and flipped through channels until settling on a sports broadcast. But then, the screen began to glitch—static lines and distorted noises filled the air.
Confused, Zephyr got up to adjust the antenna cable.
That's when he heard it.
A deep, explosive sound echoed from the sky, followed by a sudden tremor beneath his feet.
His pulse spiked.
The shelves shook. Lights flickered overhead.
"Shit! An earthquake?!"
He bolted out of the store, eyes scanning the street. People stood in disbelief—some screaming, others staring skyward.
And then…
BOOM!
A deafening explosion tore through the sky. The shockwave threw Zephyr off balance. His ears rang as his hearing dulled to a low hum.
He looked up—and froze.
The sky… was shattered.
It resembled a broken mirror, with a piece missing at its center. A gaping black void expanded, as if devouring the heavens.
Another explosion erupted nearby. In the distance, a skyscraper cracked in half—its top section crashing down in ruinous destruction.
Zephyr's legs trembled.
"What the hell is happening?!"
People scattered, running in all directions. Zephyr joined them, trying to get home.
"Safety… I need to get home!"
But fate had other plans.
Another blast shook the area, and a nearby building began to collapse.
Zephyr stumbled and fell. As he lifted his head, debris rained down—stone, steel, and cement headed straight for him.
He tried to crawl away, but—
AAAHHH!
A scream of agony tore from his throat.
A massive chunk of concrete crushed his left arm—from elbow to hand—beyond recognition.
He writhed in pain, tears flooding his eyes.
People ran to him, trying to lift the debris. One man gently pulled Zephyr's body from beneath it.
They succeeded… but the sight was horrific.
His arm… was gone.
Crushed beyond salvation.
Another explosion rumbled nearby. Fearing another collapse, the people helping him scattered.
And then…
A calm yet commanding voice echoed through the air:
"You've done enough damage… Stop."
A second, twisted and manic voice replied:
"Hahaha… I'm not done yet!"
The chaos intensified.
Then came the first voice again:
"Spatial Rifts."
Suddenly, cracks opened in the very air, slicing through reality. These rifts began absorbing the explosions—devouring the chaos itself.
But tragically… Zephyr was caught within one of them.
⸻
So the question remains:
Was this… the beginning of Zephyr's story?
Or its end?