While Leo stood upon his Stone walls in the Origin, the world he left behind was suffering a cataclysm of a different kind. The fragile peace on Earth, a carefully constructed illusion maintained by the shadow organization Athelguard, was being torn to shreds by an extremist faction known as the Harbingers.
Athelguard had spent decades as the silent sentinels of humanity, neutralizing supernatural threats and scrubbing every trace of the Origin from the public consciousness. They were the keepers of the lie. The Harbingers, however, were the heralds of the brutal truth. They believed that by hiding the existence of awakeners and the Origin, Athelguard was keeping humanity weak and domesticated.
For years, Athelguard had managed to keep the Harbingers suppressed, but the most recent Lord summoning was a variable they hadn't accounted for. The scale was unprecedented. It wasn't just a few dozen disappearances; it was thousands of people vanishing in the blink of an eye—from crowded subways, busy office buildings, and quiet bedrooms.
The digital dam broke. Social media was flooded with raw, unedited footage of people dissolving into light. News outlets, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of witnesses, stopped waiting for government clearance and began broadcasting the frantic cries of parents searching for their children. The veil of secrecy that had stood for generations disintegrated in a single afternoon.
The Harbingers struck while the iron was white-hot. They hijacked global satellites and data streams, releasing a mountain of classified evidence. They provided proof that the disappearances of the past were linked to a cosmic selection process and shared irrefutable video evidence of human beings manipulating fire, shadows, and gravity.
The world shifted on its axis. The collective psyche of humanity transitioned from skepticism to a primal, widespread terror.
''Status report! Now!'' The Branch Head of Athelguard Tokyo bellowed, his voice rattling the screens of the subterranean command hub.
''Sir, the Harbingers have unleashed the Manifesto of the New Dawn,'' an agent replied, fingers dancing frantically across a holographic keyboard. ''They've leaked the coordinates for every mana-dense zone on the planet. Civilians are swarming them in hopes of awakening. It's a slaughterhouse out there. These people don't realize the Origin doesn't grant power for free—it extracts a blood price.''
On the surface, the world's great capitals were tearing themselves apart. The social fabric didn't just fray; it dissolved. Riots erupted not for resources, but for the truth. Doomsday cults manifested in hours, worshipping the summoned as heralds of a new divinity, while governments struggled to maintain a semblance of order through martial law.
'Athelguard failed,' mused a high-ranking awakener, staring at a skyscraper-sized monitor in Shinjuku. The Athelguard logo had been replaced by the jagged sigil of the Harbingers. 'We spent so long trying to contain the fire that we forgot the world needs to know how to burn.'
Across the globe, every digital interface was hijacked. A man appeared, looking to be in his mid-twenties with shoulder-length hair and a striking tattoo curling behind his left eye. His bare chest was a canvas of arcane ink.
''I am the 11th Pillar of the Harbingers—Orin Vael, also known as Pillar Zero,'' he announced. ''Today, we strip away the veil of hypocrisy maintained by your so-called protectors. Athelguard are cowards, clinging to an obsolete world order that can no longer ensure your survival.''
''Why accept the frailty of your birth?'' Orin challenged, his gaze piercing through billions of screens. ''Why succumb to age and disease? Why should power be reserved only for those the Origin deems worthy?''
The camera panned to a sterile room where a young man lay tethered to a life-support system. A data sheet flickered on screen: Terminal heart defect. Less than a year to live.
''The Origin is not the only path to transcendence,'' Orin declared. ''We offer a different bargain. A pact with the Nether Spirits—entities of the void eager to lend their vast power to those with the will to take it.''
In a choreographed display of occult science, hooded figures began chanting around the bed, tracing a ritual circle in dark, pulsating ink. The center of the room ignited with a violet flame. A collective gasp echoed across the planet. To a world that had just learned magic was real, the Harbingers weren't offering a cult—they were offering a cure.
Deep within the Athelguard Central Command in Vespar City, behind layers of anti-divination arrays, the staff worked in a feverish panic to kill the signal. Standing behind them was a man in a perfectly tailored black suit, his blonde hair slicked back. He adjusted his round spectacles as he watched the monitor.
On screen, the dying patient went into a violent convulsion. Then, silence. A second later, the boy sat bolt upright, his skin glowing with a healthy, unnatural luster. He tore the tubes from his chest and stood, his body completely reconstructed by the dark pact.
The blonde man sighed, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. ''What a tedious mess. The Grand Arbiter is going to have my head.''
''Sir Warden, your instructions?'' an agent asked, standing at attention.
The Warden of Silence smiled, though there was no warmth in his mercury-colored eyes. ''These idiots think bringing void-leeching entities onto our world is 'progress.' It's just more filth to sweep up.'' He slid his glasses back into place. ''Deploy the Ghosts. Find every Harbinger cell associated with this broadcast. Mutilate them. Leave the remains in a state that will make the next person who thinks of drawing a ritual circle scream in their sleep.''
While the world burned, Laura Lockwood was trapped in a nightmare of her own making. In the dim light of a luxury restaurant's private booth, she stood frozen over a man who was gurgling on his own blood.
The door burst open. Susan stepped in, her eyes immediately scanning the scene: Laura's glowing crimson irises, the blood staining her chin, and the predatory length of her teeth.
''Monster... help... me...'' the man on the floor whimpered, clutching a jagged wound in his neck.
Susan moved like a blur, reaching Laura in a heartbeat. ''Laura, look at me,'' she commanded, though a flicker of genuine dread crossed her face.
Laura wiped a smear of blood from her mouth, her hands trembling. ''Susan... I don't know what to do. I couldn't stop.''
The story came out in frantic pieces. Cole Lockwood—a man who lived as a parasite on his brother's reputation—had insisted on a meeting. He had ranted about the 'New Dawn' and how they should use the chaos to elevate their status since they were both 'unawakened.' But when he had grown bold enough to slide a hand onto her thigh, something inside Laura had snapped.
The dormant changes she had been feeling since Leo's departure had surged to the surface. She hadn't just pushed him; she had lunged with a speed that defied physics and sunk her teeth into his throat.
Susan cursed Leo's name under her breath. 'You absolute bastard. I knew you were hiding something, but this?' She turned her attention to Cole. He was a known predator, a man who used his name to mask a history of assault and cruelty. Allowing him to live was not an option; he would use Laura's transformation as a leash to choke her entire family.
''No... please...'' Cole gasped, seeing the lethal shift in Susan's expression. ''I won't tell... I swear...''
''I know you won't,'' Susan said coldly. Her hand began to glow with the heat of molten rock. With a single, brutal downward strike, she reduced his head to a gruesome smear on the carpet. 'Well, at least I finally had an excuse to kill that leech.'
She stood up, smoothing her clothes before looking back at Laura. The red eyes and the feral aura were undeniable.
'Just what the hell did you turn her into, Leo Vayna?' Susan wondered. 'And how long can I keep the Lockwoods from finding out?'