A long, long time ago, humans were the only rational beings on Earth. They lived above all other creatures, at the absolute top of the food chain. They built villages, then cities, raised empires, and crowned themselves as kings of the world. They believed that nothing could ever threaten them.
Until something appeared.
It was not a common animal. Perhaps it could not even be called an animal.
It was a rational being — cunning, cold, conscious.
Far more intelligent than humans.
Far faster.
Far stronger.
They surpassed humans in absolutely everything.
And there was something even worse.
They possessed powers.
Supernatural powers that humans were incapable of understanding… much less confronting.
At first, there was hope. Some believed it would be possible to coexist, to share the world, to live in balance. But that hope died quickly. These beings saw humans as a flaw. A mistake made by God. They believed they themselves were the correct form of life — the perfect evolution.
And so, they decided to erase the error.
Massacres began to occur. Entire villages were exterminated. Cities bathed in blood. Screams echoed across lands that had once known only peace. Humans gave these beings a name:
Demons.
They dominated everything they touched, killing any human they encountered.
And humans… weak, defenseless, without power to resist… had only one destiny.
Death.
Until…
A miracle was born.
A boy came into the world carrying something never seen before. A unique gift. A supernatural power capable of facing demons on equal footing. That birth marked the first turning point in history.
And it did not stop there.
After him, others began to awaken. One by one, humans started manifesting special abilities — gifts capable of injuring, confronting, and killing demons. Humanity finally had a chance.
Then the war began.
A war that split the world in two.
On one side, humans. On the other, demons.
But this division was not sealed by agreements, treaties, or words.
It was created by blood.
An invisible line drawn by an eternal battlefield, where the fighting never ceased.
A place where the world remained in continuous war.
The so-called War of Judgment.
Which brings us to the present day.
Skyscrapers of glass and steel dominated the horizon, reflecting the sky like infinite mirrors. During the day, sunlight ricocheted off the shining facades; at night, the city transformed into a sea of neon — holographic panels, glowing advertisements, animated symbols, and floating characters painted the air with vibrant colors, as if the sky itself were alive.
The streets were clean, wide, and perfectly organized. Magnetic rails crossed the city at multiple levels, carrying silent trains that glided through the air like blades of light. On the ground, crowds moved with almost choreographed precision — people in elegant suits, uniformed students, workers focused on their portable devices. Everything flowed with impeccable efficiency, almost artificial.
But at the center of all that modernity stood something that did not belong to this time.
A castle.
Colossal.
Its gigantic walls of pale stone rose far above the skyscrapers, as if mocking the surrounding technology. Immense towers tore through the sky, adorned with banners that waved slowly, visible from any point in the city — no matter where someone stood, all they had to do was raise their eyes to find it.
At night, while neon dominated the streets, the castle remained illuminated by a constant golden light, solemn, almost divine. It did not flicker. It did not change. It simply observed. It was a silent reminder.
No matter how advanced the city was, no matter how modern and perfect it seemed, true power was not in the glass buildings, nor in the magnetic trains, nor in the technology that moved the world.
It was there.
In the castle.
Immovable.
Eternal.
Dominating everything.
The sun had risen only a short while ago, still weak and distant, barely managing to reach that forgotten neighborhood, hidden among shadows and concrete. Far from the gleaming skyscrapers of the center, the city showed its other face.
Crooked houses, improvised constructions, and worn facades dominated the landscape. Among them stood an old building, painted in mismatched colors — faded tones, applied with cheap paint and careless brushes. The walls peeled in several places, as if the building itself were tired of existing.
Inside that building, in a small and cramped apartment, someone was getting ready to leave.
Lucas.
A boy of, at most, seventeen years.
He was shirtless, standing in the middle of the room, calmly adjusting his clothes. His black hair fell messily over his forehead, still slightly damp. But what drew the most attention were his eyes — completely black. Not dark brown. Black. An extremely rare pigmentation, too deep, almost without reflection… almost without life.
Lucas's body was well-defined, revealing an eight-pack abdomen that stood out clearly. It was not an exaggerated or artificial physique. His muscles were not overly large — they were precise. Every line seemed to be exactly where it should be, as if the body had been shaped over time only through consistent training, discipline, and good nutrition. No excesses. No shortcuts.
It was a body that did not scream strength.
But promised it.
And in that morning silence, in that forgotten neighborhood, Lucas adjusted his posture in front of a cracked mirror, like someone who was about to take an important step — perhaps the most important step of his life.
He ran his fingers along the collar of the white shirt, buttoned all the way up, making sure every detail was in place. Then he put on the dark blue suit, the simple but well-cared-for fabric fitting his young body with precision. The suit pants followed the same deep tone, creating a sober, elegant harmony — almost out of place in that small, worn room.
He stepped away from the old wardrobe and approached the bedside table next to the cheap single bed. The mirror above it had a crack running across the glass, splitting the reflection in two. Even so, Lucas stared at his own image for a few seconds.
A subtle smile appeared on his lips.
"Now I'm ready." — he murmured.
A short time later, Lucas descended the building's stairs, carrying a long case, about 1.40 meters in length. It was thin, discreet, but heavy enough to suggest it was not empty.
He ignored the handrail while going down — he did not want to stain his hands. He needed to be impeccable. Today, more than ever.
As soon as he stepped outside the building, sunlight hit his face without warning. The sound of the street surrounded him: distant voices, hurried footsteps, the screech of something metallic far away. All of it mixed with the sour odor of trash that seemed to permeate the air of that forgotten neighborhood.
Lucas let out a slow sigh.
'He could at least have arranged a better place for me to stay…'
His eyes narrowed for a moment.
'Anyway… it was only a week.'
Across the street, two elderly men watched silently, sitting on cheap chairs worn by time. One wore a blue shirt and shorts; the other wore black pants, a red shirt, and a faded beret.
The man in blue leaned slightly and murmured:
"That's the newcomer?"
The one in the beret nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on Lucas.
"Yeah. I heard he's going to try the admission exam for Unique Gift University."
For a moment, the man in blue remained silent. Then he let out a weak laugh — not mocking, but tired.
"UG…? Impossible." — He sighed, as if an old memory had been unearthed. — "That reminds me of my time… I was also once a young man full of hopes. Like him… anyway… why is he in a suit then?"
The man in the beret raised his arms, showing that he had no idea either.
"I don't know."
Lucas, oblivious to the looks and murmurs, moved forward, the case dragging softly behind him.
The city was exceptionally busy that day. Crowded streets, overlapping voices, hurried footsteps echoing everywhere.
Even so, Lucas walked with calm posture, moving forward without hurry, as if the chaos around him had nothing to do with him. His focus was on only one thing: the path ahead.
After a short walk, he finally arrived.
A colossal crowd stretched out before him — easily more than thirty thousand people, all gathered in the great plaza. Some whispered in small groups; others sat on the edge of the central fountain, holding bladed weapons naturally, as if they were part of their own bodies.
But the moment Lucas appeared…
Everything stopped.
Conversations ceased. Laughter died in the air.
Dozens… hundreds… thousands of eyes turned toward him at the same time.
The reason was simple. Everyone there wore light, functional clothing, made for total freedom of movement — as if they were about to face extreme training.
Lucas, however, walked among them wearing an elegant suit, perfectly tailored, completely out of place in the scene.
The murmuring began to spread.
"Why is he wearing a suit?"
"Is he some kind of evaluator?"
"No… he's way too young for that."
Ignoring the whispers, Lucas advanced through the crowd. People instinctively opened a path, driven by doubt and murmurs.
Then he saw them.
The gates.
Enormous gates of solid steel, closed, with a symbol engraved at the very center:
UG.
Above them, sunlight reflected off the metal, creating an almost solemn glow.
The gates were gigantic — but not enough to hide what lay beyond them.
Behind them rose three colossal glass buildings. One in front, imposing. The other two appeared just behind it, separated by a small space, even taller and more dominating.
Lucas tilted his head upward, almost straining his neck, before letting out a faint smile.
"Just the first one must have at least twenty floors…"
"Imagine the size of the other two…"
His fingers slowly closed into a fist. His hand trembled slightly.
Even maintaining a serene posture, nervousness escaped in small details.
Then, a deep metallic sound echoed across the entire plaza.
"Drrr"
The gates began to open.
Instantly, the crowd fell completely silent. Confidence, fear, ambition, despair — everything mixed in the eyes of those waiting. Some raised their chins with determination. Others swallowed hard, feeling their hearts race.
Lucas took a deep breath.
"The time has come."