The world is in chaos.
The sky above a little blue planet called Earth — known for its habitability, its stunning scenery of seas, lush flora and fauna, alongside the concrete and steel jungles created by technology — now turned into an apocalypse scene.
The sky above the Earth has been fractured in two. Its edges look like serrated teeth, as if sliced apart with a jagged blade. The atmosphere is permeated with grayish gaseous substances. At a glance, it was hard to tell if this gaseous substance was leaking out or in.
Towering megacities that once glittered like jewels now dissolved at the edges into dust particles. Concrete and steel melted into formless primal sludge that oozed down the streets like living tar.
"Wha—what's happening, Johnny? JOHNNY!!!!!!"
A woman's piercing scream echoed through the chaotic atmosphere. She watched her little Johnny, whom she had been holding, transfigure into a bloody mass of flesh, bones, and clusters of eyeballs. The eyeballs glowed with a fierce red light as their pupils moved rapidly about. They finally locked onto the mother, who stood just a few centimeters away, sobbing.Staring at the giant disgusting mass of eyes and flesh in horror and sorrow, the red glow gradually solidified into a red beam. It pierced the lady's head, making it explode like a crushed watermelon.
This bizarre sight would have usually made passersby stop and stare. Some would exclaim in surprise or disgust. Others would cry out in panic or feel sympathy and pity. However, no one seemed to care. Such scenes had become common occurrences all around. People ran, screamed, and then simply forgot why they were running. Their bodies twisted. Bones lengthened. Skin bubbled. Minds dissolved into raw animalistic instinct.
Years earlier, the protective ozone layer had cracked and shattered without warning. The Earth was suddenly exposed to the firmament above, and a strange gray gaseous substance poured in.
At first, it seemed like a blessing. The gas dissolved into ethereal ether upon touching the air, and everything began to "evolve." Resources multiplied. Animals and plants grew larger and stronger. Humans enjoyed longer lifespans and better health. Governments cheered. Citizens around the world celebrated with merry festivals as new developments spread like wildfire.
But the rapid development brought heavier pollution, which tore the ozone layer even further. More grayish substance flooded in. Soon the so-called evolution turned into chaos. Animals and plants grew monstrous and began rampaging through cities. Humans started awakening supernatural powers — super strength, blinding speed, enhanced vision. At first, people rejoiced as heroes rose up to fight the mutated creatures.
Then came the groundbreaking research from a young female scientist. According to her findings, humans and other creatures were not evolving at all. They were regressing, reverting to their primal embodiment. The gray gas was the cause, and if left unchecked, everything would dissolve back into pure primal chaos. Her report made headlines across every nation.
The public response was outrage. She was bashed online, called a fearmonger and a liar. The governments, greedy for the new resources and power, refused to accept her claims. They shut down her lab and assured the world that her warnings were nonsense.
Now, in the final days of Earth, as the planet descended into full apocalyptic ruin, her words had proven painfully true.
In those last desperate hours, two souls still refused to submit.
Deep beneath a collapsing research complex on the outskirts of what had once been a metropolis, Dr. Elara Cain sat alone in a dimly lit laboratory. Emergency lights flickered like dying stars. Her white lab coat was wrinkled and stained with weeks of spilled coffee and sleepless nights.
She had once been an ordinary scientist — brilliant, diligent, perhaps a little too kind for her own good. When she first joined the project, she believed the promise: work hard, contribute meaningfully, and finally enjoy a normal life. Decent pay, evenings to herself, weekends to travel, maybe even a quiet relationship someday.
Instead, her superiors saw her kindness as weakness. Project after project was dumped onto her shoulders because
"Elara is reliable. She won't complain. She's nice." Even in the final days, after they had ignored and shut down her research, they dragged her back to find a solution. She worked around the clock, sleeping barely four hours on a cot in the corner while her bosses got the credit and went home to their families. The good life she had dreamed of never came. The exhaustion piled up until it turned into resentment.
"If people will always take advantage when you let them," she whispered to the empty monitors, her voice hoarse.
Growing up, she had been the object of comparison for parents to their children — smart, intelligent, respectful, kind. She had kept up that reputation in order to please the elders when she saw her parents smile each time she got complimented.
Eventually, maintaining that reputation became an obligation — a burden she had to carry and fulfill even when she did not want to. Saying no, even to the simplest request, was a difficult task for her.
"She can definitely come up with a solution. We just have to wait."
A second voice followed, sharper, laced with impatience.
"Wait? We've been waiting for weeks. If she's as brilliant as her file claims, she should've fixed this already. Or maybe she's just another overhyped academic."
A low chuckle.
"No, no — Elara Cain delivers. She always does. That's her whole value. You give her a problem, pile on enough pressure, and she breaks herself solving it. It's efficient."
"Exactly," a third voice cut in. "That's why we kept her. Not for her theories — those were… inconvenient — but for her output. She doesn't argue, doesn't resist, she just works. Honestly, if she had a backbone, she would've been useless to us."
Another pause. Then, more quietly:
"And if she fails?"
Silence lingered for a moment before the first voice returned, colder now.
"Then we move on. Extract whatever data she's produced, salvage what we can, and leave the rest. People like her aren't irreplaceable. There's always another 'genius' desperate enough to prove themselves."
A faint scoff.
"Still, we should keep her motivated. Has anyone reminded her what happens if she doesn't deliver?"
"Oh, she knows," came the reply. "Her access to resources, her… safety… all contingent on results. Besides, where else would she go? The world's ending. She should be grateful we're giving her purpose."
Laughter followed. Not loud, not hysterical — just casual. Indifferent.
Like discussing a piece of equipment.
Inside the lab, Elara didn't move at first.
Her fingers rested lightly on the console, knuckles pale, trembling just enough to betray the storm beneath.
Teacher… her breath shaky as she whispered.
That was her mentor. The man she considered a father figure after the miserable death of her parents. They had overworked themselves just to get her to college. However, they could not enjoy the fruits of their labor. They died, leaving her with a pile of debt. The world felt dark from then on. She no longer had any reason to live on or to smile. But she would never leave her responsibilities. So she chose to take on part-time jobs, working around the clock while simultaneously trying to balance her studies.
Later on, she met her mentor — a senior professor at her college. He took her under his wing as an assistant, claiming he saw a lot of potential in her. In those moments, she felt some light had finally shone on her — her dark days over. Professor Morin sometimes even called her his foster daughter and treated her nicely. In those moments, she felt like she really did have a family. Now that same person was the one saying such hurtful words.
Every word had come through the thin walls, clear as if they had been spoken directly into her ear.
Efficient.
No backbone.
Irreplaceable.
Grateful.
Something inside her chest twisted — tight, suffocating, familiar. That same pressure she had carried since childhood, since the first time she smiled through exhaustion because someone said, "You're such a good girl."
Her lips parted slightly.
A quiet breath in.
Then out.
The flickering monitors cast shifting shadows across her face, distorting her reflection in the glass — warping it, stretching it — until for a brief moment, it didn't quite look like her anymore.
"Heh… heh… keh-heh-heh… HAH—HAH—HAH—HAH!"
She threw her head back. Her hair scattered across her face as she let out a deranged laughter filled with mania.
"They're right," she murmured, voice low, almost absent. "I always deliver."
Her gaze drifted slowly to the corner of the lab. Leaning against the wall, half-forgotten among scattered equipment, was the scepter — an experimental conduit designed to stabilize and manipulate the gray ether. A tool. Or, at least, that's what it had been meant to be.
Maybe Atavism had gotten to her.
However, right now she knew what to do.
"Klik… klak… klik… klak…"
The sound of her heels clacking against the hard floor echoed through the lab as she walked towards the scepter. She grasped it in her hands. It felt cold to the touch — a chill that spread through her body, clearing her head. Yet still, she was not going to change her decision.
Psshhk… ka-chunk… shhhhh—
The lab door opened, spreading faint mist.
Standing outside were four distinguished gentlemen. Each of them was dressed in distinct tailored suits.
The four men stood beyond the threshold. Each man wrapped himself in the quiet authority of power.
The first man was broad-shouldered and thick-necked. His expensive charcoal suit strained slightly at the seams. A signet ring gleamed on his finger. He gestured sharply while speaking. His face flushed with irritation. He was clearly a man used to being obeyed, not questioned.
Beside him stood a thinner figure. The man was tall and reed-like. He had narrow eyes behind rimless glasses. His suit was immaculate. Every crease was deliberate. His expression stayed permanently etched between disdain and calculation. He said little. His gaze moved constantly. It measured and dissected everything.
The third man carried himself with practiced composure. Silver hair was combed neatly back. His posture stayed straight and almost military. A calmness surrounded him. It was not reassuring. It was the stillness of someone who had long grown accustomed to making decisions that cost lives.
Professor Morin stood slightly apart from the others. He kept his hands folded behind his back. His tailored coat hung loosely over his lean frame. His features were refined. His presence was composed. He still looked like the dignified, gentle mentor she remembered. He was still every bit the liar.
A line of guards stood at attention behind them. Black armored uniforms fitted with faintly glowing lines of ether-tech covered the guards. Rifles rested against their shoulders. Their visors flickered with dim light. The visors hid whatever humanity remained beneath.
The conversation cut off suddenly.
All four men turned at once. The door opened. Elara stepped out.
Elara's gaze swept across them slowly. It was measured and cold. She saw everything. She saw the arrogance in the broad man's stance. She saw the quiet contempt behind the glasses. She saw the hollow calm of the silver-haired official. Then her eyes settled on Morin. Something flickered for just a fraction of a second. It was not softness. There was no hesitation. It was only recognition. Then it was gone.
Elara stepped forward. She clasped her hands behind her back. Her heels echoed softly.
Klik… klak… klik… klak…
The broad-shouldered man moved to meet her. His expression shifted into something impatient but expectant. The others followed closely behind him. Morin followed slower than the rest. The man stopped just a step away from her. He looked down slightly at her.
"Have you found a solution?" the man asked.
Elara smiled. The smile was twisted and wrong. Morin's brow furrowed almost immediately. His posture shifted subtly but tensely.
"Yes," she said softly. "I finally have a solution."
She paused. Her smile widened.
"And I came to deliver—"
The scepter moved faster than thought. It connected with the man's head. It burst his head apart in a violent spray of blood and bone.
Silence followed for a single heartbeat. Then chaos erupted.
"WHAT THE—?!" one man shouted.
"ATTACK—!" another yelled.
Before the others could fully react, Elara moved again. The scepter crushed into the second official's skull. The thin man with glasses barely had time to raise an arm. The impact sent him sprawling. His body crumpled lifelessly to the ground.
"STOP HER!" the guards shouted.
The guards surged forward. Weapons flared to life. Beams of condensed ether shot toward her. The air around Elara distorted. The scepter pulsed. A faint gray shimmer expanded outward like a breathing veil. The attacks struck the shimmer and dissolved as if they had never existed.
Elara laughed. "Heh… keh-heh-heh… HAHAHA—!"
She stepped into the guards. A guard lunged at her with an arm crackling with augmented strength. She took the hit. Bone snapped in her shoulder. Her scepter came down in the same instant. It caved in his helmet with brutal force. Another guard struck from behind. A blade of hardened ether tore across her side. Blood sprayed. She did not stop. She did not flinch. She drove the scepter backward blindly. It impaled the attacker through the chest.
The guards hesitated for just a moment. That was enough. Elara moved like something unrestrained. She was reckless, vicious, and precise only in intent to destroy. Each step forward cost her. Each strike she took, she returned. Injuries piled up. Blood soaked her coat. Her breathing grew ragged. Her laughter only grew louder. "HAHAHA—! MORE—!"
The scepter pulsed violently now. Gray veins crawled further along her arm. They spread like corruption or awakening. A guard unleashed a burst of energy at point-blank range. The blast slammed into her and split. It divided around her body as if reality itself refused to touch her. Her response was immediate. The scepter crushed down. It shattered armor, bone, and everything beneath. One by one the guards fell. Until silence returned.
Bodies littered the corridor. Elara stood at the center. She swayed slightly. She was bleeding and laughing.
Footsteps sounded. Running. Her head snapped up. The last official and Morin were escaping. Her smile stretched wider. "Heh… heh… RUN—!"
She gave chase. She moved fast, faster than she should have been able to move. At this moment Elara, who was one of the many ordinary people in the world without an awakened ability, seemed to have gained some kind of special strength. Maybe because she had finally given in to her primal instincts.
The corridor blurred. The official lagged behind. He gasped and stumbled. Morin surged ahead unnaturally swift and desperate.
"W-wait—!" the official cried.
He did not get another word out. Elara's scepter came down from above. His head exploded on impact. His body collapsed mid-step. She did not even look at it. Her eyes locked ahead on Morin.
"Teacher…" she called. Her voice was sing-song and warped.
Morin stopped. He slowly turned. What faced her was no longer entirely human. His body twisted unnaturally. His spine bent at impossible angles. His pupils slit vertically. His movements were fluid, too fluid. His skin rippled faintly like something coiled beneath it. It was a snake or something worse.
"You… foolish girl," Morin hissed. His voice was layered and distorted. "I gave you everything."
He moved fast, too fast. His strike landed across her body. It sent her crashing into the wall. Bones broke. Air left her lungs. Before she could recover he was already there. He delivered another blow and another relentlessly.
"You were NOTHING!" he spat. He struck her again. "A hollow, useless shell wandering without purpose!"
She hit the ground. Blood pooled beneath her.
"You should be grateful!" he roared. "I gave your meaningless existence direction! I made you valuable! Without me, you're just a machine—a cold, mechanical little puppet!"
Elara tried to rise. Her body screamed in protest. She had no power and no control, only pain. Her fingers tightened around the scepter. She saw clearly now. Another strike came. She did not block it. She did not dodge it. She moved through it. The blow landed. Her body twisted instinctively and unnaturally. Something deeper had taken control. It was not skill or thought. It was primal instinct.
Her scepter lashed out wildly. It struck Morin. The blow was not clean or perfect but enough. Morin staggered for just a second. That was all she needed. She lunged recklessly, broken, and laughing. "HAHA—!" The scepter drove forward. It pierced through him. Silence fell.
Morin collapsed to his knees. Blood dripped from his lips. His eyes shook as they looked up at her. They were clearer now.
"…Elara…" he rasped. "I… raised you… cared for you… you had no one…"
Her laughter faded into something colder. She looked down at him empty.
"You're wrong," she said quietly. She paused. "I did have something." Her grip tightened. "I had a choice."
His eyes widened slightly.
"I was just too much of a fool to use it." She raised the scepter. "I won't make that mistake again."
She took a final breath.
"I'll never let anyone use me again."
KRAAACK—!!
The building shuddered violently. Cracks spider-webbed across the reinforced ceiling. Elara looked up, her ordinary brown eyes reflecting the red emergency glow for the last time. In that moment, something inside her hardened completely.
A final cataclysmic surge of primal chaos tore through the facility. Concrete crumbled, equipment melted, and Elara died with a bitter, perfectly logical smile on her lips.
Next time… I will not be nice.
The courtroom stood littered with bodies. Blood covered the floors and walls. Dead judges, prosecutors, cops, and witnesses lay scattered everywhere.
Karl stood over George. He kept an indifferent calm expression on his face. George tried to beg him.
"Karl listen. You know we are more like brothers. No, we are brothers. So you should not do this."
Karl replied calmly. "That is why you fucked my wife?"
George shouted back. "No, it is not like that. She was the one who seduced me. That vixen did. She wants to wage a war between us."
A beautiful woman trembled in the corner. She shouted suddenly. "That is a lie! He was the one who coerced me. He promised to help with my career and threatened to ruin me if I refused. He said Karl would never find out and that it would be our little secret."
Karl gave her a quiet calm indifferent stare. "Was it your turn to speak?"
She quickly shut up. Her body trembled violently. She shook her head.
Karl spoke again. "So finally you guys admitted to cheating. Either way, none of you are getting out of here alive."
Karl calmly walked toward the man. They immediately broke into sobs.
"Karl no please," George sobbed as he pleaded. His pleading fell on deaf ears.
Karl continued. "You know I would like to torture you guys in the worst way possible. But I got other people to settle some scores with. So I am letting you guys off with a gun. But the pistol I used in taking off most of these cops, which I also used in putting a few holes in your legs, would be too light of a punishment. Using the AK-47 I used for the judges and witnesses would be too much of a hassle. So therefore I have something much better here."
Karl walked toward a part of the hall. He had left his abnormally large suitcase there. His calm unsettling voice echoed across the hall which had become a graveyard. He zipped the suitcase open. He took out a rifle.
The moment he brought it out, the trio immediately burst into loud sobs.
"Karl no pleaseeee… I love you. I know you do too," Liliana crawled forward. Blood dripped from the wounds on her legs.
She grabbed Karl's legs. She stared into his eyes. "Think about our son Karl. What would young Kelvin say if he knows you killed his mommy?"
Karl stared back at those blue eyes. They were the ones he used to love. They were the ones his son got from her.
"Oh now you know you have a son, huh?" His voice stayed calm. "The son you left for three good years. The one that had to suffer those inhumane experiments from your lover here!" His voice rose in an angry shout as he pointed at the man in the corner.
"But he was just a sickler, Karl. He was going to die anyway!!" she shouted back at him. Her eyes looked delirious.
"I was going to save you for last but you know what?" Karl raised the rifle. He aimed at her head. "You die first."
"No wait!" She raised her hand to cover her face.
BANG!!!!
Her head exploded in an instant like a saturated high-pressure wine bottle.
Karl turned. He faced George. George stared at Karl with a horrified incredulous expression.
He had seen Karl kill everyone in the court. He had even been shot in the legs. But he never thought Karl would kill her. She was the woman Karl loved so dearly. Karl fought his parents for her. He got disowned just to marry her. She was the mother of his dear son. She was the most beautiful actress in the country. George had always been jealous of Karl since high school. Karl came from a decent family of prestigious lawyers. Yet Karl always did better than him in academics, career, reputation, and even in love life. So when George saw the chance to take his woman and ruin the family, he did it without hesitation.
"You can't kill me Karl!" George shouted with false bravado. "The heroes my family hired would come for you. They would kill a powerless weak trash with no ability like you effortlessly. But don't worry. If you let me go I would let bygones be bygones." His voice trembled now as he saw Karl make no effort to stop walking toward him with calm strides and the rifle.
"George. You seem not to understand the current situation of the world. Let me show you so you can die with perfect clarity. I hate when my enemies die thinking they might have a chance." Karl walked up to George. He grabbed him by the collars. He dragged him across the hall as he moved to the entrance.
"So many innocent people died here just because of you and Liliana's selfishness. Just because you were jealous of me and hated me, you chose to steal my wife. You cheated with her. You got her to divorce me and to marry you. That was not enough for you. You made my thirteen-year-old son into an experiment after promising to take care of his treatment and find a cure." Karl touched the claw mark scar on his body. He seemed to remember the battle he had with the monster his son turned into. He said all of this with a calm voice as if narrating a casual story.
They finally got to the door. Karl pushed it open. George squinted his eyes. He stared at the scene outside.
Everywhere was in total desolation. It was an apocalypse. People ran in scattered panic. Screams filled the air. Monstrous creatures caused damages and casualties here and there. Eventually the monsters dissolved.
"As you can see, people or creatures who awaken some special traits are losing their essence and dissolving. As for the heroes or the supernatural you are putting hope on, they are usually the first to get consumed. And if you are hoping for your parents to remember you and come save you or get revenge on me, then you are wrong. They would have already been dead. They were killed by the very people who should have protected them." Karl explained this as he observed the environment. Then he moved his gaze back to George.
George had a blank expression on his face. He found it difficult to comprehend what Karl said.
"You know I was going to kill you with the rifle but now I have something better in mind..." Karl said. His lips curled in an evil grin.
A monster moved closer from the distance. It sensed Karl's intention. George's eyes filled with panic. He begged Karl to kill him instead. Karl shook his head. He turned away and walked off into the distance.
The monster came closer. It roared loudly. It grabbed George with massive claws. It ripped his arms off first. Blood sprayed everywhere. George screamed in agony. The monster tore into his torso next. It pulled out his intestines. It crushed his legs. George's screams turned into gurgles. The monster ripped his body apart brutally. Flesh and blood flew in all directions.
Karl turned back. He raised the rifle. He aimed at the monster's head. He pulled the trigger. The shot exploded the monster's head into a dazzling rain of blood. The creature collapsed dead beside George's remains.
Karl walked away calmly. He left the graveyard of a courtroom behind.
Karl drove through the chaotic streets. He kept a steady grip on the wheel. His mind drifted back to the events that led him to the courtroom.
They betrayed me first, Karl thought. Liliana cheated on me with George. She left me for him. They took everything. They even turned my son into a monster for their selfish experiments. I stayed quiet for a long time. I endured the pain because I hoped to save Kelvin. But they went too far. Trying to get a court marriage while the world was ending was just another level of crazy. But as if that was not enough, they destroyed my boy. I had to end his suffering with my own hands. That was the breaking point.I walked into the court with weapons hidden in my suitcase. I shot the cops first. I took out the judge and prosecutors next. I killed the witnesses who tried to run. Blood covered the walls and floor. George and Liliana begged at the end. But their pleas meant nothing. They deserved every bullet and more.
Karl continued driving. Chaos surrounded him on all sides. People screamed and ran in panic. Monsters rampaged through the streets. The world fell apart faster now.
His thoughts stopped abruptly as he reached his destination.
Karl stepped down from the car. He stared at a mansion. It used to be one. It was his parents' house.
Karl walked up to the house. He passed through the destroyed gates. Bodies of maids and guards lay scattered on the ground. He finally got into the broken house. Blood splattered across every surface.
On the floor in the sitting room, he saw the torso of an older man. The man bore a similar resemblance to him. Karl looked across the sitting room. He saw the slender hand of a woman. A diamond marriage ring still shone on her finger. That was his mother.
"They seem to find her more delicious," Karl chuckled dryly.
"I was going to kill you both. But this worked too. It saves me from committing an abomination," Karl said. He walked up to the ripped body of the older man.
He stared blankly at the corpse for a few seconds. Then he turned away. He wanted to kill his parents because he found out they were aware of the experiments. They chose not to say anything to him about it.
Walking out, Attorney Karl Draven stood on the cracked marble steps as the world ended around him. Dark-skinned and sharp-featured, his sanpaku black-obsidian eyes had always made people uneasy, as though he could see straight through their lies.
He stood there as he thought about his career journey. He had been one of the most successful lawyers in the country — witty, ruthless when necessary, and intimately acquainted with both the shining ideals and the filthy underbelly of human society.
Over the years he had defended the guilty, prosecuted the innocent, and watched judges sell verdicts for bribes. He had seen clients betray their own blood for money and prosecutors fabricate evidence without blinking. From those harsh experiences, he had forged three simple rules he repeated like quiet prayers:
"Humans are very capricious, therefore one can't be too careful."
"No living thing is useless, it depends on how you make use of them."
"Some people can be trusted… only when they are useful."
Tonight, even those rules felt meaningless. The world itself had become the ultimate unreliable client.
Kael lit his last cigarette with steady hands as the ground split open beneath his feet and primal chaos roared upward like a living maw. He took one long drag, black-obsidian eyes staring unflinchingly into the void.
"If everything is going to revert anyway," he said calmly, smoke curling from his lips, "then the only winning move is to become the one who decides what remains."
The cigarette slipped from his fingers as the abyss swallowed him whole.
In that final instant, something ancient stirred — the last desperate spark of resistance left on a dying planet. Two souls that had refused to dissolve quietly were seized by that spark and hurled across the veil between worlds, carrying with them the scars of exploitation, betrayal, and hard-earned logic.
Far away, in a vast and still-stable realm known as the Sub-Realm, two infants opened their eyes for the first time in new bodies.
One had porcelain-pale skin and a faint tuft of white hair.
The other had darker skin and eyes that already carried an unsettling sanpaku glint.
Neither yet knew they had been given another chance.