The sky, once bright and impossibly blue, curdles to black in the span of a breath.

  A stillness falls—unnatural, suffocating—as if the very world has forgotten how to breathe.

  On the streets below, people stand frozen, heads tilted skyward, watching as an unknowable darkness swallows the Earth.

  It is not nightfall.

  It is something older.

  Something hungrier.

  Markus stands among the silent crowd, every face turned upward, every eye wide with dread.

  The sky above churns—not with motion, but with the suggestion of motion—a void twisting in upon itself, circling endlessly though nothing visibly moves.

  He feels it anyway, like pressure behind the eyes.

  A presence.

  Something watching from within the dark.

  Markus draws the Life-Giving Blade. Its light pulses defiantly against the consuming darkness above as he flicks his wrist, activating the Mahoishi. Energy surges through him—too fast, too wild.

  He stares up at the swirling void.

  “I’m supposed to fight that?” he mutters, voice barely steady. His hands tremble. “Alexia… Liddle, I’m—”

  “I know,” Alexia cuts in gently, stepping beside him. She lays a firm hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “And don’t worry. We’re getting through this.”

  Before he can answer, Liddle rushes in, wrapping her arms tight around his waist. He exhales shakily, resting a hand on her head, giving her a soft pat.

  He swallows hard, gaze drifting across the ruined skyline.

  “I need to focus,” he whispers.

  The air feels wrong—too quiet.

  Something breaks the silence.

  With a wet hiss, serpentine shapes tumble from the sky—dozens of them—long and slick, their scaled bodies writhing as they plummet like black rain.

  One slams into the pavement beside Alexia with a sickening crunch. Before it can rise, she drives her staff through its skull and twists. The creature shrieks once before going still.

  All around them, the creatures keep falling.

  A sudden flash of light blinds Markus. When his vision clears, the Morgi snakes around him lie dead, their bodies twitching and smoking, sliced apart by magic.

  “There you are, Markus,” Lemres calls, sprinting across the ruined street. Arcane blasts crackle from his hands, clearing a path as he runs.

  “The dragon’s almost here. Hold on—I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He raises his hand, summoning another portal, the air humming with energy. “Just need to convince a few world powers to send backup before we drown in Morgi creatures.”

  He gives Markus one last look—sharp, urgent—then vanishes into the shimmering portal.

  He readies himself for the trip to the White House.

  A shimmer of blue light.

  Lemres steps through and lands squarely on the carpet.

  “Mr. President, I know it’s most unusual to appear before you like this, but—”

  That’s as far as he gets before half a dozen Secret Service agents draw their weapons.

  Lemres lifts his hands calmly. “I know this is sudden, but I promise—you’ve seen what’s happening outside. The sky’s gone black. It’s already begun.”

  The President rises slowly from behind the Resolute Desk, eyes wary.

  “You have ten seconds.”

  Lemres nods. He reaches into his coat pocket—slowly—and pulls out a folded piece of paper.

  “This is a map,” he explains, pressing the paper across the Resolute Desk. “These are the predicted locations where the Morgi portals will open. If we can get U.S. forces stationed at each point, we can contain the spread and minimize casualties.”

  The President studies the paper. The agents keep their weapons raised.

  “We don’t have hours. We barely have minutes. You want to save your country?” Lemres leans in, urgent but steady. “Start here.”

  “Why should I trust you?” the President snaps, taking the map from the desk and staring at Lemres.

  “Sir, we’ve got a—”

  The Secret Service agent never finishes.

  A blur of muscle and shadow rips through the broken window, slamming the agent into the wall with a sickening crack. The Morgi Tiger lands in the Oval Office with a snarl, black mist trailing from its fangs.

  It grins—disturbingly human. “Oh,” it purrs, tail flicking, “what an honor. Imagine being the one to kill the President of the United States.”

  The President staggers back. Agents open fire, bullets thudding uselessly off mottled hide.

  Then—three arcane missiles slam into the beast’s back. The Morgi Tiger shrieks and stumbles.

  Lemres raises a hand; his eyes glow blue. A final spell—sharp, silent—pierces the creature through the heart.

  It gives a ragged gasp, collapses in a heap, and dissolves into black sludge.

  The room goes quiet. The President exhales slowly, then nods once. “Okay,” he says, voice steady despite the shaken agents around him. “You made your point. Where do you need the troops?”

  Lemres doesn’t waste a second.

  He points to the map. “Here, here, and here—major portals are opening near urban centers. If we get squads deployed to each site with air support and medical units, we can evacuate civilians and suppress Morgi incursions before they spread.”

  The President turns to his staff. “Do it. Full mobilization.”

  Lemres gives one last look. “Thank you. I’ll hold the line until they arrive.”

  He steps backward into a glowing portal and vanishes in a shimmer of blue.

  The battlefield rushes back around him—screams, smoke, debris. The sky still churns with unnatural darkness.

  Markus stands near a collapsed streetlight, catching his breath, the Life-Giving Blade still glowing in his hands.

  “Markus!” Lemres shouts as he emerges.

  Markus whirls, eyes wide.

  “Behind you!”

  A Morgi Rat lunges from the shadows.

  Before Markus can react, Lemres fires a blast of arcane energy. The rat explodes midair, scattering into black ash.

  Lemres lands beside him, panting lightly.

  “Glad to see you’re still in one piece.”

  But as they speak, the world around Markus begins to blur.

  A sharp pulse blooms behind his eyes—a headache like a thunderclap. He staggers, clutching his temple.

  “Markus?” Lemres reaches for him, but his voice is distant, muffled—like it’s coming through water.

  The battlefield fades.

  In its place, a vast void unfurls. Space stretches endlessly in all directions, dark and glimmering with strange, slow-turning stars. Markus floats in the center of it, weightless. Alone.

  Then the voices come.

  “Welcome, new wielder,” says the lowest of the three—a deep, gravelly murmur that echoes through the void like a shifting mountain.

  Markus turns, searching. “Where am I? What is this?”

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  “Don’t worry,” comes a calm, familiar voice—the woman he first heard when he claimed the sword. Her words drift around him like wind in a cathedral. “We’ll have time to talk more later.”

  “We just had a vote,” adds a third voice—refined, older, regal. “Three yeses.”

  “Sorry we didn’t explain everything upfront,” the deep voice rumbles again. “But don’t worry—you’re not alone in this.”

  “The Berserk Protocol is now enabled,” the regal voice declares.

  Markus blinks. “The what—?”

  “You have permission,” the woman says gently, “to kill.”

  “For a limited time,” adds the deep voice. “Go. Save the planet.”

  A thunderous pulse erupts. Light explodes through the void.

  Markus gasps, lurching back into his body.

  The screams return. The smoke. The heat. But the fear is gone.

  The Blade pulses in his grip—red, alive.

  “Come on, come on, wake up,” Liddle whispers, crouched over him. Her eyes widen in relief. “He’s up!”

  Lemres gives a knowing nod. “Ah. I take it the vote went well. Council of Three all said yes, huh?”

  Markus sits up, breath catching, still reeling from the surge of energy burning in his veins.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” he mutters, gripping the Life-Giving Blade tight. “Right now… I’ve got a planet to save.”

  Lemres grins. “Great. I’ve got to go convince the Russian government now. Wish me luck.” He vanishes through another shimmering portal.

  Markus turns—just in time to see a Morgi Ox, twenty feet tall and built like a living mountain, thunder toward him.

  It doesn’t stand a chance.

  With one clean motion, Markus drives the blade straight through its skull. The beast collapses, dead before it hits the ground.

  Markus stands over it, chest heaving.

  The horror of the power in my hand…

  He clenches his fist.

  “That’s why I can’t use this lightly,” he mutters. “But—”

  He shakes the doubt away and looks up at the sky.

  “No time. I’ve got a planet to save.”

  Another Morgi—this one shaped like a sleek, black horse—charges straight at them, its hooves pounding the pavement like war drums.

  Demono catches it mid-charge, muscles straining as she wrestles it back.

  “Lemres said to keep ’em busy and punch stuff,” she grunts, slamming a fist into its side.

  “Glad you’re here, Demono,” Markus says, stepping beside her.

  “Don’t hear those words often,” she smirks.

  The horse staggers but doesn’t fall. It rears back, snarling—until Liddle steps forward, eyes narrowing.

  With a flick of her hand, the ground beneath the Morgi beast shimmers and freezes solid.

  Its hooves slip—then stick.

  Demono doesn’t hesitate. She drives her fist straight into the creature’s chest.

  The Morgi horse shatters like glass, breaking apart into black mist and shards of ice.

  A Morgi snake lunges from behind, sinking its fangs into Markus’s shoulder.

  “Markus!”

  Alexia springs into action, yanking the serpent off and driving her blade through its skull in one smooth motion.

  “Are you okay?” Alexia asks, already channeling healing energy into the wound. Warmth floods Markus’s arm as the pain fades.

  “Thank you, Alexia,” he says, breathing hard. “You’re always there when I need you.”

  Before she can respond, her eyes dart to the side. “I think I saw civilians trapped—”

  She breaks into a run, rounding a corner just in time to see a Morgi boar—seven feet tall and snarling—charging a group of screaming people.

  Without hesitation, she hurls her staff like a spear. It strikes the beast in the side, but not deep enough to stop it. With a furious roar, the boar swats the weapon aside and charges.

  It slams into her, knocking her to the ground.

  Before it can trample her—

  BOOM!

  A shotgun blast rips through the air, striking the boar in the chest. It staggers. A second shot follows, then a third, until the creature collapses with a final shudder.

  “Alexia!” a voice cries.

  She blinks up as her father rushes to her, reaching down with a steady hand.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, pulling her to her feet. Behind him, members of the Alien Department move in, weapons raised, forming a defensive line around them.

  Alexia’s breath catches. “What… what are you doing here?”

  His expression softens—earnest, raw.

  “I’m doing what I should’ve done a long time ago,” he says. “Fighting with you, not against you.”

  Alexia gives a shaky smile. “We can talk later, okay? For now, you and the Alien Department kill as many as you can. I’ll use my magic as a field medic.”

  The two part ways—less angry than before—and Alexia dashes back into the chaos.

  She turns a corner just as a loud crack echoes from above.

  An egg-like projectile slams into the ground nearby and explodes, knocking Alexia back.

  “Sid?!” she shouts, coughing through the smoke.

  He’s already on his feet, bruised but steady, eyes locked on the sky. Above them flaps a bizarre silhouette—a massive, black-feathered Morgi bird that looks like a deranged chicken with jet engines for wings.

  “That thing just laid a bomb,” Sid mutters.

  Another egg drops, whistling through the air.

  Sid doesn’t flinch. He draws his sword, takes a breath… and slices the falling egg midair. The explosion redirects upward, slamming into the Morgi chicken with pinpoint force.

  It squawks, feathers scattering, before spiraling into a rooftop.

  Sid exhales and cracks his neck. “Not my first apocalypse.”

  A new threat bursts through the smoke—a Morgi Horse, its black hide shimmering like oil, eyes glowing with wild fury.

  Alexia barely has time to react. She plants her staff in the ground just as the beast rams into her, using it like a brace to keep from being thrown. Her boots skid across the pavement, but she holds her ground, teeth gritted.

  “Alexia!” Sid calls, already moving.

  In a swift motion, he closes the distance. As the horse rears, preparing to trample her, Sid drives his sword into its flank. The blade crackles with dark energy as it pierces through the Morgi’s armor-like skin.

  The creature lets out a distorted, broken scream and collapses in a heap of smoke and twitching limbs.

  Alexia steadies herself, panting, and pushes her hair back. She gives Sid a grateful nod.

  “Thanks.”

  Sid shrugs, smirking faintly. “Not my first charging nightmare.”

  Sid and Alexia round a corner—just in time to see another Morgi Ox barreling down the street like a freight train.

  Ice bursts across the pavement beneath its hooves, crystallizing in an instant. The beast slips, roaring, its momentum faltering.

  And then—

  Markus appears like a phantom of red light, the Life-Giving Blade gripped in both hands.

  One clean strike.

  The sword drives straight through the Morgi Ox’s chest, glowing crimson as it cuts deep. The creature staggers, lets out a final snort—and collapses with a thunderous crash.

  “How many more of them are there?” Markus pants, sweat dripping down his brow.

  Demono slams a Morgi Rat into a wall without even glancing his way.

  “Little over a hundred billion.”

  Markus freezes. “What.”

  She shrugs, hurling another rat aside.

  “It’s the end of the world. Did you think it was gonna be easy?”

  Markus looks up… and sees it.

  Not with his eyes—the darkness swallows all—but with something deeper. Something primal. A sensation clawing at the edges of his mind, demanding he acknowledge the shape lurking within the void.

  It isn’t light that reveals the dragon.

  It is absence.

  A silence so vast it devours sound. A stillness that bends the world around it.

  He perceives it the way one senses a nightmare before waking—not in form or shadow, but in wrongness.

  An outline too massive to comprehend.

  Coiling. Endless.

  Its body moves like smoke inside glass, but its presence presses against reality, cracking it at the seams.

  Markus’s breath hitches.

  “It’s here,” he whispers—though no one told him, though nothing visibly changes.

  He knows.

  The Morgi Dragon has arrived.

  Markus raises the Life-Giving Blade, pointing it skyward. A beam of light surges upward, parting the choking dark like a spear through fog.

  His eyes widen.

  “I know what to do,” he breathes. Then, louder—“Liddle! Can you fly me up?”

  She blinks, startled—but nods.

  Alexia steps in front of him, brows furrowed, her voice tight. “Please tell me you’re not about to do something incredibly stupid.”

  Markus gives her a sad smile. “I’m sorry,” he says softly.

  Then, after a pause—his voice barely above a whisper:

  “Take care of Liddle for me.”

  Liddle throws her hands out, forming an ice platform beneath them just before they hit the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, disappointed at the crude shape of the ice.

  “No—it’s okay,” Markus says quickly, steadying himself. “Keep making them. I’ll cross.”

  Liddle creates platform after platform, each one blooming into existence as fast as she can manage. Markus doesn’t stop. He launches from one icy surface to the next, swinging his whip like a grappling line, climbing higher toward the clouds.

  Then—he lands on the back of a flying, egg-laying Morgi rooster, its wings roaring like jet turbines. He steadies himself, wind tearing past him, and raises the Life-Giving Blade toward the heavens.

  The sky—once black and writhing—shivers.

  And slowly, impossibly…

  The sky begins to turn blue again.

  But the beast beneath him screeches in defiance, its wings twisting unnaturally as it veers upward—toward the underside of the swirling portal.

  Markus grits his teeth, trying to steer the creature through, but it won’t budge. Then he sees it.

  Beyond the portal, something moves.

  A mouth—vast and incomprehensible—unfurls in the void above. A maw wide enough to devour a planet, rimmed with jagged teeth that shimmer like distant stars. It isn’t just a beast. It is the absence of reason. A shape not meant for human eyes.

  Markus’s breath catches. His fingers tighten around the hilt of the Life-Giving Blade.

  “…So that’s what waits on the other side,” he mutters.

  Then—he acts.

  With one last surge of mana, he plunges the blade into the sky itself. The portal screams as it collapses inward, threads of darkness unraveling like torn fabric.

  The beast beneath him bucks violently, thrashing as the gateway vanishes. Its body twists in panic, and Markus loses his grip.

  He falls.

  Tumbling.

  Spinning.

  The world above slips away, swallowed by blue sky and silence.

  And then—

  A flicker. A hum.

  The Life-Giving Blade pulses in his grip, refusing to release him.

  Below, the surface of the unknown world races closer—too fast, too sharp.

  Is this it?

  He closes his eyes—

  Then—he stops falling.

  A field of red grass catches him like a breath.

  He gasps.

  The sky above is clear. No darkness. No beasts. No roar of apocalypse.

  Just… wind.

  Just the ruins of stars still echoing behind his eyes…

  …and the knowledge that the dragon isn’t gone.

  Only waiting.