When heaven stretched endlessly, as far as one could imagine, dark clouds hovered above as the roar of thunder cried across the blackened sky, burning with dark flames that devoured everything they came into contact with.
The wind howled like one mourning his mother, while the clouds wept one last time — their tears beating heavily upon the mortal world as buildings crumbled, and the desperate cries of those who wished to outlive the event rose in resentment toward the heavens.
The ground cracked open, swallowing all things into its endless depths, claiming every hope in exchange for spilling doubt, fear, anger, resentment, and countless other emotions upon those who would dare embrace them. As far as one could see, the hope of surviving this event was little to none. Yet, even if this calamity were somehow avoided, it would only usher in a new and unknown era — one even God Himself might not comprehend.
---
Day 65.
Sixty-five days of hiding in an underground bunker that had been swallowed whole by Mother Earth. At this point, I was going to starve to death — just a little food left to last me a few more days, and then what? Calmly await death by starvation — the worst kind of death imaginable.
A horrifying one at that, as you desperately watch the worms within your own body begin to eat away at you, since starvation is not an option for them. Truth be told, I would have loved to open this bunker I'm in, but falling thousands of feet into the ground caused it to malfunction. It can't be opened from the inside anymore.
With each passing day, I could swear I heard Mother Earth's weak heartbeat — like that of a dying animal desperately clinging to life, even when it knew it was nothing but a hopeless hope.
The rhythm of that heartbeat grew slower and fainter with each passing day — or perhaps I was simply hallucinating due to how little I ate. It was impossible to determine how much time had truly passed; I had counted millions of numbers in my empty mind just to stay sane.
The smell here was unbearable — I had to relieve myself in this tiny compartment I was trapped in.
Finally, my eyelashes grew heavy as my eyes began to close and open slowly, trying to cling to life. It had now been twenty-three days since I last ate. My lips were pale and dry; saliva barely ran through my mouth. My body was thin, fragile, and colorless, my bones clearly visible beneath my skin like the outlines of a painting. My body had begun to release foul-smelling water as I watched maggots and worms gnaw slowly at what remained of my flesh.
But at this point, my senses had started to shut down. I couldn't even feel pain any longer.
Just as I was about to kiss the world goodbye, I suddenly heard the sound of metal clicking from outside. The dimming light in my eyes steadied. I looked toward the exit of my compartment, praying silently as anxiety gnawed violently at my emotions.
Then, with a soft hiss, my compartment door opened, revealing people in black carrying a stretcher.
I watched as they gently lifted me onto it. Instantly, I felt warmth — so much strength that, for a fleeting moment, I thought I could run a marathon. But I knew it was an illusion.
"How is he?" a voice said — neither loud nor soft, perfectly calm.
"Ma'am, his condition is stable, at least for now. The rest of the information will have to be gathered in the lab," the stretcher-bearers replied, bowing slightly toward the source of the voice.
"Hmm. Fair enough. Take good care of him. Anyone who could survive the Apocalypse Synthe and still be alive isn't normal. So far, only two have been found," the voice replied.
"Take him away," she added.
They bowed again and carried me off. I tried to look at the owner of the voice, but for some strange reason, I passed out cold — unaware of what awaited me.
---
Yeah, I had a wonderful dream. But that's the funny thing about dreams — ninety-nine percent of what one dreams about is what one secretly craves.
When I opened my eyes, I was standing on a balcony. Before my sanity could fully return, I froze.
My thoughts wandered on their own. How did I end up here? I was clearly out cold moments ago. I stretched my hands before me, checking for signs of rot or decay from the maggots — but found none. For a long moment, I was too shocked to speak. My body was brimming with raw energy, power pulsing through me as though I could crush boulders with my bare hands.
Suddenly, my gaze fell upon my hair — long and dark, stretching gracefully over my shoulders, reaching past my waist, shining like dark jade.
Then I finally looked beyond the balcony — and saw only endless darkness. No moon. No sun. The wind was chaotic and raw, and in the distance, tornadoes the size of buildings could be seen swallowing everything they touched, endlessly expanding.
I wasn't certain, but deep down, I knew what I was seeing was far from normal.
As I pondered what to do next, I heard a voice that seemed to come from every direction — impossible to pinpoint.
"Why go through the trouble of searching? You won't be able to trace the source of this voice anyway. I'm here to inform you that you are currently inside the Embori Cube. You are presented with two choices.
"First, find the Black Cube hidden deep within the Embori system within twenty-four hours. Fail to do so, and you die — both here and in reality. Your body is currently in a capsule — a red one, since during the lab test we discovered abnormalities in you. That required us to use red instead of blue."
"First question?" the voice added, with a hint of impatience.
Taking a deep breath, Draki barely held his emotions in check. The veins in his neck tightened as his fists clenched hard.
"Firstly, I don't appreciate the fact that you rescued me just to use me as a lab rat," he said coldly. "Secondly, if my main body is currently in a capsule, doesn't that mean any injury I sustain here won't really affect me? It's just an illusion, right?"
"You're wrong," the voice replied. "Every injury you sustain here will be reflected in real time. If you die here, you die in reality. Does that answer your question?"
It was Fiona — she spoke while watching the live projection of Draki's actions.
"This is just cruel!" Draki yelled, then suddenly calmed himself. "What's my second choice?" he asked coldly, standing at the balcony's edge as the fierce wind whipped through his hair.
"For that," Fiona said, "the second option isn't really a choice — more like information. Would you like to know how all this came to be?"
Draki's response was instant and sharp. "No. When I get back, we'll discuss it personally. Right now, I'm wasting part of my twenty-four hours talking to you."
He smirked. "Anyway, do I get some kind of weapon? Because those things in the tornado don't look friendly."
"Yes," Fiona replied. "A variety of weapons are available to you. Imagine them, and they will materialize before you. But I must warn you — don't imagine anything too extraordinary. The more powerful your mind, the stronger the weapon you can manifest."
As she watched, two daggers dripping with dark flames appeared in Draki's hands. With a grin spreading across his face, he leapt from the balcony into the endless darkness below.
---
"Is his mental state supposed to be normal?" Fiona asked the scientists monitoring Draki's capsule — his real body floating, suspended and naked.
"No, Ma'am," one replied. "But seeing as he's been asleep for thirty-six years, while we fed him small fragments of data — constantly updating him on changes in the world — it's expected. Of course, he can't consciously remember any of it. His shift in character is the first of its kind."
"I see," Fiona said softly. "Keep me updated on his progress — and make sure he doesn't become another one of those."
With that, she turned and left the research chamber.
---
Landing on the dark ground gracefully, Draki sprinted toward the distance with such raw strength that the air around him boiled with untamed power, booming with each surge.
Monsters that once roamed hungrily for flesh turned toward him — snarling, their bloodlust filling the air.
Draki looked at the horde and couldn't help but grin. The grin widened, twisting into laughter — wild, untamed laughter.
"Hell yes!" he roared. "This is what I'm talking about!"
He shifted his stance, one leg stretched fully backward, the other bent, and with a thunderous crack, Draki shot forward — straight into the oncoming swarm.