The rift at Kailas no longer flared wildly. Its light condensed into something sharper, steadier—like a blade suspended in the sky. Through it shimmered alien constellations and distant warships, yet the greatest terror came not from what could be seen but from the silence.
The silence of something waiting.
Mortal Fear
From the Himalayas to the far corners of the globe, mortals broke.
Pilgrims rushed toward the sacred mountain, chanting mantras and psalms, convinced divinity itself had descended. Others fled in blind panic, trampling one another on the narrow roads that snaked toward Tibet.
In Delhi, protests clashed with military barricades. In Beijing, incense smoke curled thick as temples overflowed with frantic supplicants. In Washington, conspiracy forums went into meltdown—some declaring alien invasion, others screaming that the gods had returned.
Social media drowned in shaky videos of the rift. Hashtags exploded across languages: #EndOfDays, #ReturnOfTheGods, #AlienGate. Newsrooms struggled to keep up.
"—confirmed visuals of a second sky—""—religious leaders divided: heaven or hell—""—containment impossible, governments in silent deadlock—"
Some cried that the world was ending. Others that it was beginning again.
Militaries Hold
After the first retaliatory strike from the rift annihilated jets and carriers alike, militaries across the globe froze.
India pulled its convoys back, fortifying high passes but never daring to advance. Chinese squadrons shadowed the rift at a distance, keeping their guns cold. Russia's Spetsnaz stayed deployed but motionless, waiting on orders that never came. The shattered remnants of the U.S. Pacific Fleet drifted in silence, its surviving crews numb with disbelief.
No nation dared make the second move.
At the Rift
Atop Kailas, the cultivators of the Su Clan stood before the wound in the sky. Su Liana's robe stirred in the icy wind, her gaze hard and unyielding. Su Chen's aura seethed like a storm barely contained. The Void Realm guards shifted uneasily, while elders muttered prayers beneath their breath.
But Elder Yuan remained motionless, his presence as immovable as the mountain itself.
Karma lingered near the edge of the group, his body trembling despite his effort to appear composed. His breath misted in the thin air as the sensation of being watched gnawed at him. Not just by soldiers or warships—something deeper. Something higher.
Mira? he whispered inwardly.
Her voice came hushed, strained.Host… this is no army's gaze. This is cultivation beyond even Yuan. Someone is looking through—a being from a realm you cannot yet name.
Karma's heart pounded like a war drum.
The Golden Gaze
The rift pulsed once. Twice.
Then it changed.
The stars on the other side dimmed as two colossal irises of molten gold slid into view. They were not bound by distance or size—they filled the aperture, endless and eternal, gazing not at the world but through it.
The effect was instant.
Mortals screamed. Villagers collapsed face-first in the snow, foreheads pressed to the ground. Monks wailed mantras until their voices broke. Across the globe, live broadcasts cut into static before recovering, now filled with unblinking golden eyes.
Even hardened soldiers broke. Rifles clattered into the snow. Knees buckled. Some wept openly. Others froze, trembling, unable to lift their heads beneath the unseen weight pressing into their very souls.
Karma's knees wavered. Pain seared through his chest, not flesh but spirit. Blood filled his mouth as his nascent Qi buckled under pressure. Mira's voice shrieked in his mind.Look away! That is no gaze you can withstand—its thought alone could shred your soul!
He forced his head down, gasping, blood dripping onto white snow.
Su Liana caught him, her hand steady on his arm. Her voice was low, sharp. "Do not resist it. Let it pass through you." Yet her own eyes flickered with unease—rare for one who had never bowed to anyone.
Su Chen staggered, his Golden Core aura quivering, pride burning under the weight. Even he faltered.
Only Yuan remained unbowed. His aura stirred faintly, subtle but unyielding, a ripple of defiance standing against the golden gaze.
At last, the rift dimmed. The eyes receded. But no one who had seen them would ever forget.
The cultivators exhaled as one. The guards trembled, pale and shaken. Even Su Chen's fury dulled into silence.
Elder Yuan's voice broke the stillness, low but resonant, carrying like a verdict across the frozen peak.
"What you felt was the will of a cultivator whose realm dwarfs this world. Their strike was no act of war—it was a warning. They wait, not in hesitation, but in judgment. Hunters weighing prey. Or rivals gauging rivals."
The words fell heavy, like iron dropped onto stone. The guards shivered. Even Su Liana's hands tightened at her sides.
Karma's fists clenched, his blood-streaked lips whispering a vow only he and Mira could hear: If they see us as prey… then I'll change what it means to hunt me.
The rift steadied again, its guardians unmoving. The enemy did not advance. They simply… watched.
On Earth, governments stalled, mortals prayed, markets collapsed.
At Kailas, the cultivators stood frozen in the snow, waiting for Yuan's decision.
But Yuan did not move. His eyes never left the rift, unblinking.
Finally, he murmured, voice steady as the mountain itself:"The true battle has not begun. Until they show their hand, we will not move. To strike now is to walk willingly into their trap."
The mountain trembled. The world trembled. And in every heart lingered the imprint of those golden eyes—a promise that what had been seen was only the beginning.