The Old Spy
Snow drifted in lazy spirals through the Moscow morning. On a weathered bench, an old man sat feeding pigeons, his hands shaking slightly as he tossed crumbs. His coat was patched, his flat cap pulled low. To most, he was just another senior citizen.
But his eyes told a different story. They were cold, sharp, haunted — the eyes of a man who had seen governments rise and fall, who had toppled leaders in silence, who had once been the shadow moving behind history. The last of the rezidentura, a relic of a dead empire, a forgotten spy who had lived too long.
As he scattered crumbs, a strange shimmer rippled across Red Square. The pigeons froze, heads snapping up in unison, eyes gleaming with unnatural light. Blue script burned across his vision.
[WORLD INTEGRATION IN PROGRESS]
[CANDIDATE IDENTIFIED: Potential – Very High]
The old man stiffened then let out a mad cackle. "Ha. Finally." He had heard whispers long ago — rumors buried in dusty files, fragments of forbidden projects, hints that the world itself would one day change. He had survived long enough to see it.
In a blink, the park dissolved. He stood in a vast white expanse as a figure of cosmic dust and starlight emerged — the System Admin. "You," the old spy rasped, his lips curling into a grim smile. "So it is true. They called it a myth, but I knew better. I could feel it in my bones."
"Confirmed," the Admin's voice intoned. "You have been selected for a rare opportunity. Would you like to go to Hades or as you might also know it, Nav?"
"Do I?" the old man asked, breaking into coughing fits. "I really don't have a choice."
"You always do," the Admin answered. "Do you wish to select your Archetype before you head there?"
"Fine, let's go with what I know," he stated as he made his selection.
"If that is all, send me into this place," the old man commanded as he stood up straighter, joints cracking, and his presence coming alive.
Nodding its head, the Admin intoned something it heard earlier, "Well I wish you luck."
"Luck?" the old man chuckled as the void swallowed. "All I need is to cheat death again."
-
The Young Rebel
Stones clattered against steel barricades in the streets of Jerusalem. Smoke curled in the air, the sting of tear gas biting his lungs. A young man stood atop a burned-out car, his scarf drawn across his face, eyes burning with defiance.
Rocks were hurled at the oncoming soldiers in retaliation who continued firing tear gas and even live rounds. Just then the world changed as a blue screen lit up across everyone's eyes.
Earth has been initiated into the Multi-Verse!
Even more chaos and mayhem spilled into the old streets, the young man headed back to the one person that he held dear in his life. Passing checkpoints was much easier and with less harassment thanks in part to no soldiers being there due to unusual messages popping up before everyone.
He walked up the steps leading to one of the most sacred places in the city, the dome of the rock. "Jeddi," the young man called out as he stepped inside the mosque.
"There you are," an old man answered. Coming down the steps was the great Iman of the mosque. "Come quickly," he said, pulling along his grandson as they went down flights of stairs that led down.
"Did you see this strange message?"
"Yes, yes, this day has been coming for a long time," the old man answered as they entered a long sealed chamber.
"What do you mean?" the young man asked, catching on his grandfather knew more than he should.
"I don't have time to explain, you will soon be going somewhere else," the old man simply answered as he opened a box in which two tokens were placed inside of them along with a crystal. Handing them over to his grandson, he got a proper look at him, "You were back in the streets again."
"Abbi…" he began but was cut off.
"I told you to stop putting your life at risk like that. I.. I don't want to lose you like I did my daughter and your father."
Looking shame-faced, his expression was replaced with indignation as he responded, "We can not keep living like this under their boot! We…"
Holding out his hand, "We don't have time for this. Listen carefully a lot will change soon, it already has. When you come back I will give you all the answers you need, but know this you must inherit your role which has been prepared for long before you can imagine."
"You are not making any sense, Abbi. How do you know all this, and what is this even that you gave me?" he asked as he looked at the items. One of them answers once he had looked at it closer: [Tier 1 Class Token - Sorcerer]
The last words the old man uttered before he got whisked away, "When you return, you will inherit the truth. Until then… survive." Then a last message appeared reading: Beginning Phase 1; The Tutorial. And he was gone like many special individuals.
-
The Tech CEO
The theater was packed inside the expo at San Francisco, the air humming with anticipation. Cameras flashed. Financiers, journalists, and die-hard fans filled every seat, their eyes locked on the stage. Then he stepped out. Black turtleneck, faded jeans, sharp glasses. The legend himself. The greatest inventor in the modern age. His name alone was enough to silence a crowd, his face an icon, his company the crown jewel of modern innovation.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, his voice smooth, confident, reverent. "Today, we are not unveiling a product. Today, we unveil the future." The screen behind him lit up, a vast white arc swirling into form. From the stage, assistants wheeled out a sleek, coffin-like pod, gleaming silver with faint circuitry lines glowing across its frame.
"The NeuroPod. A fully immersive VR platform. Not just sight and sound, but total sensation. A second world, one we control, one we design. Step inside, and you don't just play a game. You live it."
The crowd erupted into applause. Phones lifted to record. Reporters scrambled to write headlines that would crown him king of the future yet again. But then something strange happened as everyone got a pop up filled with lines of blue script burned across their vision. [SYSTEM ONLINE]
[WORLD INTEGRATION: IN PROGRESS]
The crowd murmured. He frowned, snapping his fingers at his tech crew. But the lines didn't stop spilling over everyone's face. At the same time the crowd started getting news announcements on their phones updating them on the changing situation all around the world over shadowing his most grandest tech presentation.
"What's going on," the man growled as a nervous intern came onto the stage. His moment — his triumph — dissolved into this chaos.
"Sir, I don't know… it's everywhere. We can't stop it," she stuttered.
"Fix it, I can not have my presentation overshadowed and ruined by this," he began and then he disappeared in a flash of light.
-
The Crime Boss
Rain slicked the neon streets of Tokyo, each puddle a mirror of broken light. In the back room of a smoke-stained bar, silence reigned. Men knelt in neat rows respectfully, motionless as statues, while their oyabun honed the edge of his blade.
His suit was immaculate with his hair tied back in the old style and tattoos coiled like serpents across his chest. He had built his empire with blood and steel, a great crimeboss who carried himself with the dignity of a warlord.
To the police, he was a criminal. To his men, he was like a great samurai of old. To himself, he was a relic — a believer in a world long gone, a world of emperors and honor crushed underfoot by American fast food chains and Hollywood dreams.
"What is going on?" he finally spoke, stopping sharpening his katana against the whetstone.
"There seems to be something that appeared before everyone's eyes," a young man eagerly replied.
Looking at the prompts he got especially those ones that read; [PROCESSING INVASION REQUESTS…]
[EXPERIENCING HIGH INFLUX OF PETITIONS]
[FAE COURTS, INFERNAL HELLS, CELESTIAL HEAVENS, UNDEAD UNDERWORLDS…]
The man's lips curved, not into a smile, but something harder, sharper — vindication. "It seems," he said, his voice low and certain, "we are entering the age of steel and spirit once more."
The bar shuddered as the air itself split open, a crack of light tearing through the shadows. A figure of starlight and shadow stood within it, silent, watching. The underworld boss rose to his feet, blade in hand. His men stood up as well in a defensive position around him drawing out knives, guns, brass knuckles, and all sorts of weapons.
The man kept his eyes fixed on the impossible being before him as they exchanged some words then he faced his followers. "It looks like I will be going somewhere, I will be back!"
Without another word, the light reached for him. And when it touched him, the oyabun let himself be taken — carried away into the void, as if stepping back into the world he had always believed should never have died.
-
The Great Explorer
Deep in the jungles of Guatemala, sweat ran down his back as he brushed away the last layers of soil. The stone beneath was carved, ancient glyphs winding into serpentine patterns. His team watched from the edge of the clearing, their lamps flickering in the thick heat.
He had dreamed of this moment all his life. Raised in Mexico City, he had walked the museums, stared at broken relics of gods and empires long reduced to footnotes. He had studied, dug, begged for funding — all to chase ghosts of civilizations long forgotten about and dismissed by the modern world.
And now, kneeling in the dirt, he uncovered not just a tomb, but a door. The lintel bore a single name, clear even after centuries of wear and tear: Quetzalcoatl.
The Feathered Serpent. God of dawn, wind, knowledge, and rebirth.
"Madre mía,' someone whispered. While another asked, "Is that it?"
His heart thundered as he nodded in an affirmative. They were about to step into the tomb when the air grew heavy. The jungle stilled. A golden light leaked from the cracks between the stones. Then his vision split with burning blue text: [WORLD INTEGRATION: ACTIVE]
Then as if that was not the end they staggered back, eyes wide as the tomb groaned open on its own. Feathers — radiant, jeweled — spilled from the gap like a serpent shedding its skin. The ground shook with the sound of something vast and unseen stirring below.
His team screamed and fled, but he stayed rooted, awe plastered across his face. All his life he had searched for proof, evidence this world held more than they knew — and now the world itself was proof.
The tomb cracked apart, and before whatever was inside there could come out he was whisked away. A figure of starlight and shadow stood waiting for him — the System Admin. "Welcome candidate, you have been offered a rare opportunity few have been given! To step not into history, but into myth."
-
A/N: I will be going over more candidates selected all around the world and their struggles in strange new worlds. This and the fall of Earth will be the main side stories for Book 1!