The world was normal… for the last time.
Morning sunlight spilled over the city like melted gold, bouncing off glass towers and apartment windows. Cars honked, vendors shouted, kids ran late to school — the usual human playlist. Nothing hinted at the cosmic sucker punch that was about to hit Earth like it owed rent.
Somewhere in the middle of that normalcy, two best friends stood on a cracked basketball court behind an old school building.
Dioka — hoodie half-zipped, hair messy as hell, smile loud enough to ruin someone's morning.
Guakulia — hands in pockets, expression unreadable, looking like a walking "do not disturb" sign.
They were 16 back then. Carefree. Dumb in the fun way. Comfortable in the world because life hadn't tried to kill them yet.
Dioka flung the ball at Guakulia with zero aim.
Dioka: "Bro catch—"
Guakulia: "You know I don't do sports."
He caught it anyway, without looking. Showoff.
The world was boring, predictable, safe.
Then the sky made a sound no sky should ever make.
A crack.
Not thunder.
Not an explosion.
A glass-breaking sound.
Everyone on the court froze.
Everyone in the city froze.
Everyone in the world froze.
Above them, the blue atmosphere split into clean, sharp fractures… like someone tapped the dome of reality with a hammer.
A silent, blinding white pulse rolled out across the sky.
And the world changed forever.
People screamed.
Birds dropped.
Phones glitched.
Air felt heavier, denser, alive.
Guakulia looked up calmly, eyes narrowing with that eerie analytic focus he wasn't supposed to have.
Dioka staggered, gripping the fence like gravity had tripled.
Then the pulse hit them.
Not like wind.
Not like heat.
Like being rewritten.
For a moment, the world went white.
Silent.
Weightless.
Dioka felt something tearing through him — not painful, but wrong. Like reality was trying to fit him into a template he absolutely didn't belong in.
Guakulia felt calculations running through his mind that he never asked for. Formulas. Concepts. Systems. But they weren't sticking. They were failing. Breaking.
The Supernova System tried to stamp them.
Tried to assign Tracks.
Tried to install Sigils.
Tried to log them as "mutated humans."
Instead—
ERROR_∞
SYSROOT_DETACHED
ENTITY CLASSIFICATION FAILED
ANOMALY DETECTED
REWRITE DENIED
Reality literally gave up.
They collapsed.
The world went black.
---
When Dioka woke again, it wasn't on a hospital bed.
Not in his room.
Not surrounded by people.
He opened his eyes in a ruined city square — buildings broken, cars flipped, trees uprooted. Smoke drifted like ghosts. Sirens wailed in the distance. Mutated people ran in panic, screaming as beams of energy erupted from random hands and bodies.
The world had mutated overnight.
As he sat up, something inside him shifted — like instincts he never had suddenly came online. His eyes blinked, adjusting to a new layer of reality.
Colors looked different.
Air felt readable.
Space felt… negotiable.
He wasn't normal anymore.
But something was off.
Everyone else's mutation felt "system-guided." Structured. Track-based. Predictable, like an RPG skill tree.
Dioka felt none of that.
His power was raw.
Untamed.
Adaptive.
Chaotic.
His body wasn't following rules — it was breaking them.
"...Yo, Dioka."
Dioka turned.
Through the smoke, Guakulia walked toward him, calm as ever, expression blank but eyes glowing faintly with a conceptual sharpness that didn't belong to any human.
Even the ground bent a little around his steps.
Dioka groaned. "Bro, we're not dead? Damn. I was lowkey expecting an afterlife cutscene."
Guakulia looked around, scanning the environment like his mind was running five simulations per second.
"No tracks… no sigils…" he muttered. "System can't read us."
Dioka blinked. "Bro, the sky broke, people got superpowers, the whole city looks like someone rage-quit reality, and you're calm?"
Guakulia shrugged. "Panicking won't respawn us."
"…Facts."
A mutated man crashed nearby, flames erupting from his body. Three others chased him, their abilities unstable and violent. Civilians screamed from behind overturned buses.
The world was already dying.
Dioka scratched his head. "So what do we do?"
Guakulia's gaze drifted across the chaos. He watched the supernovas. The civilians. The destruction. The fear.
Then he looked back at Dioka.
"We do what we always do."
"…which is?"
"Survive."
Dioka grinned.
And in that grin, something awakened — an instinctive joy, like the world crumbling had given him something to play with.
Guakulia cracked his knuckles in quiet agreement.
Neither of them realized yet:
They weren't just surviving.
They were the beginning of a new category —
Entities the system couldn't leash.
Beings that would one day eclipse Supremes.
Anomalies who laughed in a world built for war.
But for now?
They were just two boys standing in the ruins of their old life…
smiling at the end of the world.