In the modern world, peace had become routine. Nations focused on progress, technology flourished, and cities climbed toward the skies. But peace was fragile—a beautiful illusion shattered the day the sky cracked open.
They came without warning.
A dark void, a rip in the fabric of the world, hung high above the earth like a bleeding wound. The first Rift appeared above the Pacific, tearing through clouds with divine ferocity. From it, monsters spilled out—beasts of living flame, walking glaciers, creatures of wind and metal. They were not natural. They were Elemental Beasts.
And humanity was not ready.
Skyscrapers crumbled. Military might failed. In days, the world's population was cut in half. Cities became graveyards. The skies dimmed with ash, and silence swept through the streets like a second death. For the first time in centuries, Earth remembered fear.
Then, something unexpected happened.
Awakened.
Ordinary humans began to rise, wielding strange powers—flames in their hands, wind beneath their feet, lightning in their veins. They appeared across the world, fighting back against the beasts, saving what remained of humanity.
The secret, they revealed, was the beasts themselves.
Each Elemental Beast carried within it a glowing crystal—a condensed shard of power. When absorbed, it awakened something dormant in a human. Strength, speed, control over elements. These "Awakened" became humanity's hope, its soldiers.
A bloody resurgence began. Humanity fought back.
The battle lasted for years, but they finally pushed the beasts back.
Half the world was reclaimed over the next ten years, inch by inch. Walls rose around the remaining cities. Zones were marked: Safe, Contested, and Wastes. The deeper one went into the Wastes, the stronger the beasts became. Yet no matter how many fell, the Rift remained.
Scientists studied the phenomenon. What they discovered terrified even the bravest minds. The Rift did not pour simple energy—it leaked a different essence, sacred. Divine energy.
With the Rift leaking this energy, scientists discovered that while low-rank humans couldn't absorb it, the essence was capable of strengthening those strong enough to sense it.
The Rift couldn't be closed. But it could be used.
Mankind began sending expeditions through the Rifts, discovering broken worlds, empty landscapes, and strange relics. They brought back resources, weapons, power. Every world was different. Most held nothing but beasts, but occasionally, forgotten ruins spoke of civilizations long gone.
A new era dawned—of war, exploration, and power.
And in the middle of it all was a boy, seventeen years old, with calloused hands and a hunter's eyes.
Soreil Vale.
He moved through the ruins of what used to be New Boston—now just a graveyard swallowed by wilderness and time. Trees burst through pavement. Vines crawled across dead buildings. The wind howled like it remembered what this place had been.
Soreil's boots made no sound.
A scavenger bag hung at his hip, half-filled with spare tech, rusted circuit boards, and bones of old beasts. He didn't expect much today. You never found anything of value this deep in the Wastes.
But then he felt it.
A ripple in the air. Like static crawling across skin.
He turned, stepping cautiously through a collapsed bank. Rubble cracked underfoot, and light filtered through shattered glass. Beneath the ruins, something sparked.
A beast.
"What is an elemental beast doing this close to the safe zone?" he whispered.
It was huge, sprawled against the broken floor like a fallen god. Its body was cracked and scorched, riddled with wounds, but it still pulsed with energy. Lightning danced across its fur—what remained of it. An Elemental Beast, lightning-aligned, rare as myth.
And dying.
Soreil didn't waste time. He crouched, watching its chest rise in shallow bursts. One eye, as large as a plate, flickered open. The beast stared at him.
Then it exhaled.
A final breath. The lightning coiled around its form slowed. Letting out a low sigh, he murmured.
"It's dead."
Soreil waited a full minute before moving. The body was still hot, crackling softly. He reached for his salvaging gloves and slipped them on—metal-threaded, shock-resistant. Even so, he didn't touch it directly.
Instead, he focused.
Essence detection was something Selene had taught him. Feel the flow, not the form.
He closed his eyes. And there it was—like a sun buried in flesh. The crystal. Near the beast's heart.
Soreil exhaled. Then drew his hunting blade.
He made careful incisions, parting seared fur and dense muscle. Smoke hissed from every cut. His gloves sizzled from residual charge. But eventually, he saw it—a glowing shard the size of his fist. Pale blue, crackling with barely-contained lightning.
It hummed in his hand like it recognized him.
And then the pain came.
It hit like a thunderclap—pure agony flooding his veins, burning his nerves. He fell to his knees, clutching the crystal as light poured from his eyes and mouth. It felt like being torn apart and rebuilt.
He screamed.
The sound echoed through the ruins.
Then silence.
His breath returned. He collapsed, trembling, the crystal now gone—dissolved into him.
And he felt it.
Lightning in his blood. Static in his bones. Vision sharper. Muscles tighter. Power.
He was no longer just human.
He was Awakened.
It took him hours to move again. When the pain dulled to a burn, he stood. The beast's body still sparked gently—its core gone, but its parts were valuable.
Soreil retrieved a field knife and began salvaging. He took one horn, still buzzing faintly, a strip of hide, and several teeth—each capable of slicing steel.
These would sell for good credits in Haven Market.
He loaded his bag with care. But as he stepped away, something inside him shifted. A presence. Dormant, but alive.
Lightning responded to his thoughts. His fingers sparked when he flexed. The air bent around him.
This wasn't just power. It was a storm waiting to be unleashed.
He looked up. Beyond the ruined skyline, the Rift still hung in the sky like an eye that never blinked.
His journey had begun.
And the world would never be the same.