It was a sunny day like many others on the "Magic Island." The hot sun blazed in the clear blue sky, uninterrupted by a single cloud. It was summer, and the island's dozens of beaches were already packed, their shimmering waters offering a welcome escape from the heat. Meanwhile, others were caught in the daily grind, navigating the heavy traffic on their way to work.
In the living room, Reginald, Emilia, and Erick sat on the couch, watching the morning news. The reporter on the screen narrated the details of a recent robbery, the footage showing a chaotic scene.
"These damned bastards think they can get away with anything in this society! Where's the law when you need it?" Reginald fumed, his hand slamming down hard on the armrest.
"Honey, calm down," Emilia soothed, her voice gentle. "You're retired now."
"Times like this, I wish I wasn't," he growled, still seething. Perhaps it was the intense training he'd been doing lately, or maybe it was the looming sense of the coming apocalypse, but Reginald felt more alive, more charged, than he had in years.
Suddenly, the TV screen went black, replaced by an ear-piercing, high-pitched whine that filled the room.
You just broke the TV with your angry vibes, Dad…" Erick quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Bulshit!" Reginald shot back.
"It's karma, honey. Karma!" Emilia teased, chuckling.
Abruptly, the sound ceased, replaced by a voice emanating from the now-blank screen.
"Ahem… I beg your pardon, people of the world," the voice croaked, sounding ancient and frail yet carrying an unmistakable authority. Instinctively, they fell silent, drawn in by the commanding tone. "I'm sorry to interrupt your peaceful moments, but mine have also been disturbed by the visions I've had..."
Out of nowhere, the image of an old man flickered onto the screen. He wore a black headband that obscured his left eye, golden earrings that glinted in the dim light, and a long, flowing white beard that cascaded down his chest. His single visible eye was a deep, unsettling black. He looked like a character pulled straight from the pages of a fantasy novel—a blend of pirate and wizard. His strange, almost mythical appearance was captivating, holding the audience's attention in a tight grip.
"I knew my time was coming long ago, but now… I can feel the same for the entire world, for every soul around me!" His voice was laced with sorrow, his single dark eye glinting with a profound sadness. He paused, drawing in a deep breath before continuing, "I would be glad if it were just a simple feeling, but I've seen it with my own ancient eyes: tragedy will strike Earth when the sun touches the moon in five days!"
His words echoed ominously, the weight of his proclamation settling heavily in the room, filling it with a palpable sense of dread. The air seemed to thicken, and a chill crept into their bones, as if the temperature had suddenly dropped. Reginald, Emilia, and Erick exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the old man's warning sinking in.
"Gather whatever resources you can and stay indoors with your loved ones! I have done all I can to warn you. Stay safe... and may God bless mankind!" The old man's image flickered, then faded away, his final words hanging in the air like a foreboding curse.
The TV screen went black once more before abruptly switching back to the news, where the journalist sat frozen in stunned silence, his eyes wide with disbelief, as if he too had been struck by the weight of the ominous message.
"Er—uh, we had an... interruption," he stammered, struggling to regain his composure. He paused, clearly receiving instructions through his earpiece, before finally continuing, though his voice wavered.
"Breaking news! It appears that an unknown entity has hacked into international satellite systems, broadcasting this message to the entire world! Government security agencies are in chaos, unable to trace the source of the breach. This is unprecedented," he reported, his tone now filled with disbelief. "We urge everyone: stay calm, stay home, and do not panic. The message is undoubtedly a hoax—fake news meant to incite fear."
******
Reginald rose from the sofa and switched off the TV, his expression darkening with anger.
"No, you are the fake news!" he muttered, his voice low but charged with frustration. He knew the truth, knew what was coming, and the thought of the world being deceived infuriated him.
Emilia turned to her husband, concern etched on her face. "This message... it couldn't be Nikolas, could it?" she asked, her mind racing. Their son had mentioned he would find a way to warn the world about the impending apocalypse, but hacking into the global satellite system? That seemed beyond even him.
Suddenly a voice answered from upstairs.
"Of course it has... I made it!" The one who answered was a young man going down the stairs with a silly smile.
Emilia's eyes softened as she looked at him. In just a few days, her son had transformed. He stood before them with a confidence and strength she hadn't seen before. His broad shoulders, strong jawline, and sharp eyebrows gave him an air of authority. The weight loss had revealed a lean, muscular build beneath his now loose-fitting shirt.
"I had to do it," Nikolas said as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his voice calm but resolute. "It was the only way to warn people about the disaster that's coming." He greeted his parents with a nod, his eyes serious despite the smile lingering on his lips.
"But you barely mentioned the apocalypse," his father said, his voice edged with concern. "How can people prepare if they don't know what's coming?"
"The more I said, the less they would believe…" Nikolas replied, scratching his head thoughtfully. He'd spent hours pondering the best way to deliver the message, weighing every possible outcome. "It's controversial, I know, but even if people think it's just the start of WWIII or a new pandemic, it's better for them to take action than to dismiss it as fake news."
Emilia nodded in agreement, her face tense. "They're already calling it fake news," she said, her tone tinged with disbelief. "I never thought they'd jump to that conclusion so quickly. Shouldn't they be investigating it first?"
Nikolas could only shrug. "The media is predictable. They react first, think later."
"But what about hacking the satellites? Aren't you worried the government will come after you? Interpol could get involved, you know that." Reginald, who understood more about the investigation process than the others frowned, worried. Furthermore, even if he understood his son's motives, he was not very happy with the method used.
Nikolas flashed a carefree smile, trying to ease his father's worries. He knew how much his actions clashed with Reginald's principles. "I've thought about that too, Dad. Don't worry. Even if they try, they won't track me down in less than five days. And by then... well, they'll have much bigger problems to deal with."
Nikolas reassured his family. They had done everything they could to warn the world without exposing themselves completely.
"That old grandpa in the video was amazing. How did you pull that off?" Suddenly, Erick asked, unfazed by the potential legal consequences looming over their heads. In his mind, his brother had already handled that part.
Nikolas chuckled, appreciating his younger brother's curiosity. "I've got a few 'friends' with a lot of experience in the field of computer graphics, so to speak," he replied, making air quotes with his fingers around the word 'friends.' But seeing the deepening furrow in Reginald's brow, he quickly shifted the topic. "Anyway, I think it's a great time to step up our training, don't you think?"
"Yes, let's go to the dojo!" Erick, who immediately got the hint, agreed and ran upstairs to change clothes. Internally however, the young boy could only sigh, he was pretty tired from training last night.
Nikolas too ranback upstairs, leaving only Emilia and Reginald wondering what had happened.
*********
At the dojo, four men were panting heavily after an arduous fight.
Yuemura, Reginald, and Erick had joined forces against Nikolas, but even then, they struggled to keep up. As his surname suggested, Nikolas was a dragon with a sword in hand, his movements precise and powerful. Even Master Yuemura, a seasoned warrior, was taken aback by his disciple's prowess—only he could truly match Nikolas in combat!
Nikolas moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned warrior, his strikes precise and unyielding, his defense impenetrable. He had become one with the sword, his movements an extension of his will. The others were left breathless, struggling to match his relentless pace.
Over the past three weeks, the old master had come to fully believe Nikolas' story. There was no hole in his story. The fact that the boy was a prodigy, a force of nature in battle, and astonishingly, he knew and mastered Yuemura's secret technique was a testament to the truth.
After a quick meditation, they felt refreshed.The cool air of the dojo, mixed with the scent of sandalwood and sweat, helped them center their thoughts and recover their strength.
Nikolas, every clash with his master's blade was a lesson, revealing new possibilities for growth and refinement. Yet, with each step forward questions arose in his mind: Why hadn't Yuemura advanced further in his swordsmanship? What held him back from reaching new heights? What lay beyond the mastery they had achieved? What would it take to ascend to the next level?
These were not questions that could be answered easily, if at all. The way of the sword was a complex and mysterious path, one that demanded more than just skill or knowledge—it required something deeper, something intangible.
The way of the sword was not simple and there were no manuals or guides that could explicitly explain how to advance, no clear roadmaps to follow. Nikolas knew only the ranks he and Master Yuemura had achieved: Beginner, Intermediate, Advanced, and Master.
What lay beyond the rank of Master? What new challenges awaited those who dared to push further? The future was a blank slate, the unknown loomed large, and Nikolas had no answer to all these questions.
He knew that sooner or later, all these questions would be answered, but until then, he had to remain focused on the present, on the challenges that lay directly ahead.
"Master, I think it would be safer if you lived near us…." Nikolas suggested thoughtfully, breaking the silence that had settled over the dojo. "There's an abandoned house next to ours that I've been cleaning up for a while. It would be perfect."
Reginald and Erick exchanged glances, their eyes widening slightly in admiration. They hadn't realized how far ahead Nikolas had been planning, considering even the small details. Both turned expectantly to Master Yuemura, waiting for his response.
"Hmm…" The old man paused, his expression thoughtful. After a few seconds of contemplation, he nodded, his calm voice filling the dojo with a sense of quiet resolve. "I'll gather my things and move tomorrow, then."
"Right, it will be safer if we stay together!" Erick cheered, his voice filled with relief and excitement at the prospect of having their master so close.
"I'm glad you accepted, master," Reginald said respectfully. He held Yuemura in high regard, not just for his skill in the martial arts but for his unwavering adherence to the principles of bushido. Rectitude, courage, benevolence, civility, sincerity, honor, and loyalty—these were the tenets Yuemura lived by, and while Reginald sometimes thought them a bit outdated, he couldn't deny that they aligned perfectly with his own sense of justice. The two men, despite their differences, had found common ground in these shared values, and their mutual respect had only grown stronger over time.
*******
Later that evening, after a quick shower, Nikolas collapsed onto his soft bed, exhaustion settling into his bones. Just as he closed his eyes, his phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand.
*Beep*Beep*Beep*
"Hello?" he answered, rubbing his temples.
"To hell with 'hello'! That was you on the news, wasn't it?!" A high-pitched voice snapped from the other end of the line. It was Marcus, his best friend, and he sounded both panicked and angry.
Nikolas didn't waste any time. "So, are you coming to my house or not?" he asked calmly, cutting through Marcus's outburst with a direct question.
"Your house, my ass! After that news broadcast, my parents have gone crazy—just like they did during the last pandemic. They want to stay home, and I'm still trying to convince them otherwise!"
"They should be cautious. Did you at least follow my advice?" Nikolas pressed, his tone firm.
"Yes, I bought a lot of food and water…" Marcus admitted, but his voice wavered with uncertainty. "But that's not…"
"Just shut up, Marcus! The world is going to descend into chaos in five days—stop being a coward!" Nikolas interrupted him sharply, his patience wearing thin. He had neither the time nor the desire to listen to his friend's doubts.
"You... you... you…" Marcus stammered, clearly taken aback and offended by Nikolas's harsh words.
"Get over it, my friend. Grab a weapon and start practicing more than ever. Stay awake with your family at midnight, five days from now! I'll come to your house when I can," Nikolas instructed, his voice brooking no argument.
"W… What exactly is going to happen?" Marcus asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Doom!" Nikolas answered bluntly before ending the call.
He couldn't afford to explain more. In a way, Nikolas was doing this out of a lingering sense of loyalty—Marcus had been a good friend in his 'normal' past. But the truth was, after a decade of survival in a world gone mad, his feelings toward Marcus and many others had dulled. The memories of their shared experiences had faded, replaced by the cold, hard reality of the apocalypse. If fate allowed him to help his friend, he would. If not… well, he had already done more than enough.