The late afternoon sun bathed Kings Park in golden light, its endless sweep of eucalyptus trees rustling gently in the breeze. From the lookout, the Swan River shimmered like liquid silver, winding its way through the heart of city.
Karma stood quietly, his hands clasped behind his back. For once, he wasn't thinking about cultivation, sects, or promises that bound his future. He had come here for something simple—something he hadn't allowed himself in a long time.
Then he saw her.
Kiki.
She walked up the paved path, her steps light but deliberate, framed by the blooming wildflowers of spring. The sight tugged at old memories—those quiet days when he was nothing more than a hotel server, stealing glances at her, nursing a crush he never dared confess. Now, fate had brought them together again.
For a fleeting moment, the world felt almost ordinary.
Then the ground shook.
It started as a deep vibration beneath their feet, a low hum that seemed to rise from the earth's bones. Birds scattered from the trees in panicked flocks, their cries piercing the sky. The tremor grew violent. Benches rattled. Tourists screamed. The glass walls of the café nearby shuddered, sending coffee cups tumbling.
Karma's instincts flared—this wasn't a normal quake.
All of Perth shook. And then… the world.
Within minutes, the news lit up every phone, every screen, every broadcast tower. Reporters shouted over panicked crowds, their words cracking as the cameras turned to the impossible.
CNN – Breaking Live Coverage"…we repeat, there is no tectonic activity detected. This is not an earthquake. We're receiving simultaneous reports from across the globe—sites of cultural and historic significance are emitting massive, coordinated energy signatures."
The feed cut rapidly, splicing together chaos from every continent:
The Bermuda Triangle: naval destroyers pitched violently as the ocean itself split into a spiraling vortex of violet light. Lightning crawled over the waves like living serpents. Sailors screamed into radios before signals cut into static. Civilian ships were ordered to divert, but rumors already spread online—some claimed entire fleets were vanishing into the glow.
Easter Island: the Moai statues pulsed with molten veins, golden lines racing down their weathered faces. Their empty eyes blazed like torches in the night. Local villagers fell to their knees in prayer, chanting old songs that hadn't been spoken in generations. Anthropologists scrambled onto live feeds, speculating about "activation mechanisms" while the military moved to cordon the island.
Nazca Lines, Peru: the desert itself burned. Geoglyphs of condors, jaguars, and serpents seared red-hot against the sand, glowing so brightly they were visible from orbit. Drones flying overhead malfunctioned mid-broadcast, their lenses fracturing as if struck by unseen heat. On social media, people claimed the "sky animals" were alive, trying to climb out of the desert floor.
The Great Pyramids of Giza: beams of energy lanced skyward from their tips, converging into a singular column that pierced the heavens. Cairo's streets erupted in panic—mosques and churches overflowed as thousands prayed, believing the Day of Judgment had come. Egyptian armed forces deployed tanks and helicopters around the plateau, sealing it off within an hour.
But all of it paled before what unfolded in Tibet.
Mt. Kailas.
The sacred peak erupted in blinding light, crystalline and pure, like a spear driven from earth into the heavens. The column tore through the atmosphere, scattering clouds like paper, so bright it was visible from Pakistan, Nepal, and even northern India. The surrounding glaciers cracked and rumbled, though no ice fell—rather, the entire mountain seemed to vibrate with song, a resonance older than humanity itself.
Suddenly updates from the world's major powers descended within hours.
India declared a national emergency. The Indian Army's Mountain Strike Corps deployed en masse, convoys of trucks winding up precarious Himalayan roads. AMCA Fighter jets roared overhead, establishing no-fly zones. Satellite feeds showed hundreds of thousands of troops moving into the region, bunkers carved into the ridges around Ladakh and Uttarakhand humming with activity. Command posts were already reporting "unprecedented energy surges" disrupting equipment.
China responded just as aggressively. The People's Liberation Army established immediate air superiority, scrambling J-20 stealth fighters and deploying armored divisions along Tibet's southern rim. Long columns of soldiers marched toward Kailas, heavy artillery following. Checkpoints turned back pilgrims and civilians, isolating the mountain within a tightening steel ring. Rumors spread that special research divisions—the same ones that monitored alien tech crashes—were being flown in under secrecy.
The United States announced "joint observation operations" but their movements spoke otherwise. B-52 bombers circled over the Indian Ocean. Carrier strike groups repositioned to the Bay of Bengal. By midnight, American reconnaissance drones buzzed along the Himalayan border, ignoring warnings from both Beijing and New Delhi.
Russia, unwilling to be sidelined, flew in strategic bombers to Central Asia and began deploying "peacekeeping" units to Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan, their presence a clear reminder that Moscow would not watch this cosmic event unfold from the sidelines.
Every intelligence network was ablaze. Leaked reports spoke of "energy readings off the charts—orders of magnitude higher than nuclear weapons."
Meanwhile, panic consumed the ordinary world.
In New York, thousands flooded Times Square, shouting that the end of the world had come. Some held signs proclaiming, "The Gods Return!" while others screamed about alien invasions. Police struggled to contain riots as opportunists looted stores.
In Tokyo, temples overflowed with worshippers chanting sutras, while military officials tightened defense alerts, fearing the glows marked an extraterrestrial incursion.
Across Europe, conspiracy theories spiraled online: the Illuminati's grand ritual, portals to another dimension, even simulations collapsing. Hashtags like #EndTimes and #AlienReturn trended within minutes.
But nowhere was the tension higher than the Himalayas.
By dawn, three armies—India, China, and covertly the U.S.—faced each other across a holy mountain now burning with celestial light. A single spark could have ignited World War III. Yet no missiles were launched, no shots fired. For the glow of Kailas was so overwhelming, so divine, that even soldiers trembled at their posts, unable to decide if they were guarding against each other… or against the heavens themselves.
And still, the column of light blazed, defying every attempt to measure it, as if Mt. Kailas had declared itself untouchable.
Back In Kings Park, chaos spread like wildfire. People ran in every direction, some screaming, others dropping to their knees in prayer.
Karma stood frozen, his gaze locked on the skyline. Perth's skyscrapers trembled but held, their glass windows flickering with reflected light from the far horizon. His heart pounded. He could feel it—not spiritual energy as he knew it, but something older, wilder, bleeding into this world.
"Karma…" Kiki's voice shook as she clutched his arm, eyes wide with fear. "What's happening?!"
He had no answer. Not for her. Not even for himself.
All he knew was this: the mortal world was no longer safe in its illusions. The heavens had chosen to reveal themselves, and every human, from presidents to servants, was now caught in the wake.
And as the news replayed the glowing beacon over Kailas, Karma felt an icy chill crawl down his spine.
This… this isn't random. Something has awakened.