Kalen crawled out of the crack in the ground, covered in blood and dust.
The eastern sky was turning pale with dawn. The purple aurora was gone. The sky had returned to its normal blue.
He lay on the desert sand, gasping for air. In the distance, the outline of the city appeared in the morning light. The sirens had stopped, replaced by an uneasy silence.
Kalen rolled over onto his stomach. He felt something warm radiating from his back — the relic that had merged into his body. He tried to sense it, to communicate with it. No response. Only a vague, instinctive feeling— He was hungry. Not a stomach hunger. Something deeper, a hunger from the soul. He needed to… devour.
Kalen closed his eyes and fell asleep in the dawn light.
Two days later. Global news rolled on and on, intercut with scenes of Kalen waking up in a small motel on the edge of the desert. At the United Nations, delegates from various nations argued fiercely. Nameplates read "United States of America," "People's Republic of China," "Russian Federation," "European Union," "United Kingdom of Great Britain," and others.
The news anchor's voiceover: "…After two days of emergency consultations, the UN has reached a preliminary consensus on the 'emergence structures.' Nations will be responsible for controlling and exploring the structures within their own borders…"
The screen cut to a U.S. general standing in front of the Greek‑style building in New York's Central Park, speaking into a microphone: "…We have confirmed that these structures contain unknown 'relics' with supernatural power. Our top priority is to ensure these relics do not fall into the wrong hands…"
The image cut away to a reporter on the scene: "…But according to reliable sources, at least eleven of the emergence structures are in unpopulated areas or international waters, not under any nation's jurisdiction. That means anyone could become the owner of a relic…"
The screen cut to a shaky, blurry cellphone video. A young man was running through the ruins somewhere in the Middle East, screaming. His arms were wrapped in glowing vines that were devouring his skin.
The reporter's voiceover continued: "…There are already unconfirmed reports of civilians entering the emergence structures and making contact with relics. The consequences are still unknown, but experts warn…"
Inside the motel room, Kalen sat on the bed, watching the TV. He had showered and changed into clean clothes, but his eyes were dark and sunken, as if he hadn't slept in days. He looked down at his palm — the black star mark was clearly visible. He tried to make a fist. The mark glowed faintly.
He could feel his power growing. It wasn't psychological — it was real. He could feel that he could lift a car, run faster than any human ever had. His senses were sharper; he could hear the breathing in the next room. But that wasn't the point. The point was the hunger. It had grown stronger. Strong enough to frighten him.
On the TV, the news continued. The reporter said: "…Experts estimate that at least a hundred private teams around the world are already preparing expeditions to the emergence structures in unpopulated areas. Some are calling this 'a new‑era gold rush'…"
Kalen turned off the TV. He stood up and walked to the window. Outside was a small town on the edge of the desert. The streets were empty. Most of the shops were closed. But in the distance, he could see a few people — a small group gathered by a gas station, huddled around an off‑road vehicle, talking excitedly. They wore backpacks and sunglasses, with climbing axes clipped to their belts. Adventurers. People like him, looking for a lucky break.
Kalen watched them. A thought occurred to him — his relic needed to "devour" other relics. That meant that between him and every other relic holder, there was a natural relationship of hunter and prey. He didn't want to hurt anyone. But he wasn't sure he could control the hunger.
Kalen turned away from the window and picked up a wrinkled map from the bed. He had gotten it from the motel reception desk the night before — a "guide for explorers" printed by some private organization. It marked the locations of all thirty‑six emergence structures around the world.
His eyes fell on one marker — North America, deep in the Rocky Mountains. A structure that had not yet been officially confirmed by any government. The place where he had found his relic. It had already collapsed. No value there. But his gaze kept moving, settling on another marker — South America, deep in the Amazon rainforest. A structure that had been confirmed by satellite images but not yet officially explored by any nation.
He pressed his fingertip against that marker. The hunger grew stronger.
"…I'll just take a look," he said quietly.
He grabbed his backpack and walked out of the room.
In the hallway, an old woman was reading a newspaper. The front page showed a huge photo — a Gothic building that had risen beside the Louvre in Paris, its spire piercing the glass pyramid.
"Son, you're going after those things too, aren't you?" the old woman said without looking up. "Don't. My son went yesterday. He hasn't come back yet."
Kalen was silent for a few seconds.
"…I'm sorry," he said.
He walked on, pushed open the motel's front door, and stepped into the sunlight of a new world.