The city hummed with the ceaseless rhythm of modern life. Streets teemed with cars and buses, their engines blending with the chatter of pedestrians and the occasional ring of a bicycle bell. Towering skyscrapers reflected the late afternoon sun, their glass facades mirroring the bustling streets below. Billboards flashed advertisements for everything from the latest gadgets to flashy lifestyle brands, their neon lights promising dreams wrapped in convenience. Amid the chaos, street vendors lined the sidewalks, hawking snacks, electronics, and everything in between, their calls competing with the ever-present murmur of a 21st-century metropolis.
In the midst of this urban sprawl lay a neatly organized neighborhood that stood out for its sense of order. Though the weekend had brought the usual flurry of activity—children playing in the streets, neighbors chatting over fences, and the occasional delivery truck honking its way through—it retained an air of calm amidst the city's frenzy. The apartment blocks here were functional but comfortable, designed to house families of five with modest ease. Each building boasted well-maintained lawns and clear pathways, a testament to the community's shared commitment to keeping their surroundings pleasant.
Inside one such apartment, on the second floor, Rian Thorne, a young man who looked to be around nineteen, sat cross-legged on his bed. The room was modestly furnished, with a neatly made bed, a wooden desk cluttered with notes, and a small wardrobe tucked into the corner. Light streamed in from the window, catching the warm tones of his dark brown skin and the tight curls of his afro cut. He was handsome, with a sharp jawline and thoughtful eyes that now focused intently on the screen of his ZephyrTab. The glow of the tablet illuminated his face as he swiped through the pages of a digital book, utterly absorbed in its contents.
Around him, the faint sounds of the neighborhood filtered through the walls—laughter, the distant roar of a motorcycle, and the rhythmic thump of a nearby bass speaker. But Rian paid it no mind. The book in his hands transported him to another world, one where systems governed destinies and heroes rose from obscurity to command unimaginable power. He leaned back against the headboard, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "If only such systems existed in reality," he murmured, the words barely audible over the faint hum of the neighborhood outside. "I might actually have a shot at the greatness I dream about."
As he continued reading, a sudden, sharp headache struck him, causing him to wince. He rubbed his temples, his brow furrowing in discomfort. "Maybe I've been staring at this screen for too long," he muttered, setting the ZephyrTab aside. Deciding to take a break, he swung his legs off the bed and stood up, heading for the kitchen to get a cup of water.
The headache, however, intensified with each step he took. By the time he reached the doorway, a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his skull, forcing him to clutch his head. He let out a low, pained shout, his knees threatening to buckle under the weight of the agony. "What is going on?" he whispered hoarsely, leaning against the wall for support as the world around him seemed to blur.
Then, a strange sensation began to creep over him, as though something was pulling at his very consciousness, tugging him into an unknown abyss. His breaths grew shallow, and the pain twisted into something more profound, a searing agony that seemed to wrap around his mind. He staggered forward, the walls spinning around him, and just as he was about to scream, the pain stopped—sudden and absolute.
Rian collapsed to his knees, his hands still clutching his head, as silence fell over the room. The absence of pain was almost as jarring as its presence had been, leaving him trembling and gasping for air. "What... what just happened?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness.
He glanced around his room, his heart pounding. Everything appeared to be the same—the neatly made bed, the cluttered desk, the faint hum of activity outside his window. "Was I hallucinating?" he wondered aloud, shaking his head as if to clear it.
Just then, the door to his room swung open. He turned, startled, to see a young woman standing in the doorway. Her light brown skin glowed softly under the room's light, and her features bore a striking resemblance to his own. She looked to be in her early twenties, with a figure that could make heads turn and a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Rian?" she said, breaking into a laugh as she saw him kneeling on the floor. "Were you... praying or something?"
Rian sighed, the faintest hint of annoyance flickering across his face. "Veeona, can't you knock?"
Veeona leaned casually against the doorframe, her laughter bubbling over. "Dinner's ready," she said, her tone playful. Then, with a teasing grin, she added, "You might want to wash your face first—you look like you just saw a ghost."
Shaking his head, Rian waved her off as she turned and left, still chuckling to herself. "I'm coming," he called after her, closing the door behind him and heading to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, Rian splashed water on his face, letting the coolness ease his nerves. He looked up and stared at himself in the mirror. His reflection was the same as always—dark brown skin, sharp jawline, and the familiar tight curls of his afro cut. Nothing about him had changed.
He chuckled softly, muttering to himself, "Who knows? Maybe I got a system. This is how many MCs in those novels get their first encounter."
Feeling a little foolish, he decided to test his theory. "System," he called out, his voice echoing slightly in the small bathroom. Nothing happened.
Undeterred, he closed his eyes and tried again, this time calling out internally. Still, nothing.
With a mocking, disappointed expression, he sighed. "Guess I'm not in a sci-fi novel after all," he said wryly, shaking his head. He grabbed a towel, dried his face, and headed toward the dining room, the delicious aroma wafting through the air almost making him forget what had just happened.
The dining room was connected to the kitchen, and as he stepped in, Rian immediately noticed his younger sister Kala sitting at the table. She looked about sixteen, her fingers flying across her phone's screen as if typing was a competitive sport. Her hairstyle, an edgy cut with streaks of color, gave her a rebellious air that matched the sharp concentration on her face. She didn't even glance up as he entered, completely engrossed in what she was doing.
Across the room, Veeona was busy setting the dining table. She moved with practiced ease, her figure—graceful and curvaceous—turning heads even in the family home. Rian knew it was a source of envy and admiration, though he tried not to dwell on it. The older sister's resemblance to their mother was undeniable.
Speaking of their mother, the sound of pots clinking in the kitchen drew Rian's attention. Their mum, a striking woman in her early forties, was the source of Veeona's curves and shared Rian's sharp eyes. She stood by the stove, finishing up the cooking while barking out orders in her no-nonsense tone.
"Kala! Stop typing like you're about to kill someone and get the glasses for the table," she snapped, her voice cutting through the air.
"I'm almost done!" Kala replied without looking up, her thumbs still moving furiously.
Rian chuckled under his breath at the familiar scene, shaking his head as he made his way to his seat. "Some things never change," he muttered, stealing a glance at the food as the tantalizing smell made his stomach growl.
Before he could sit, his mother, Tilisha, turned to him, her sharp eyes pinning him in place. "Rian, before you eat, help finish washing the dishes."
Rian's stomach groaned in protest, and he glanced longingly at the food. He opened his mouth to argue but quickly thought better of it. He knew what his mum was capable of when crossed. "Fine," he grumbled, heading toward the sink.
As he walked past Kala, he couldn't help but glance at her phone, curious about what had swallowed her attention so completely. The word "Radiants" flashed on the screen for a split second before she tilted the phone away, still typing furiously. Rian shook his head, dismissing it. "Probably arguing in some group about a movie," he muttered to himself.
He reached the sink and started washing the dishes, his hands working automatically. Behind him, Veeona's voice rang out. "Mum, you should've seen him earlier. He looked like he was praying in his room."
Tilisha burst out laughing, turning from the stove to face Rian. "Praying? Now that's a miracle. Maybe he's finally decided to turn his life around."
Rian frowned, pausing mid-scrub. "It's not funny," he muttered, his voice tinged with annoyance, though his mother and Veeona continued to chuckle.
"Come on, Rian," Veeona teased, "a little prayer never hurt anyone."
"I wasn't praying," Rian shot back, returning to the dishes with a deeper frown. "And you both need better jokes."
As they were chatting, the front door opened, and a tall man entered the room. He had the same sharp features as Rian but with a more mature edge and a strong, well-built frame. Aston, Rian's father, carried a suitcase in one hand and exuded an air of calm authority. He looked to be in his early forties, his presence commanding attention without effort.
Rian's face lit up as he dried his hands and moved to help his dad with the suitcase. "Hey, Dad."
"There's my champ!" Aston said warmly, ruffling Rian's hair before handing over the suitcase. "How was your day?"
"Good," Rian replied, though he conveniently left out the strange headache incident.
Aston glanced over at Kala, who was still glued to her phone. "So, you're not even going to hug me when I get home?" he teased, grabbing the phone out of her hands.
"Dad!" Kala protested, her voice dripping with annoyance as she tried to snatch it back. "I was in the middle of something!"
"Middle of ignoring your father," Aston retorted, his tone playful. Kala huffed and stomped off toward the kitchen to finally get the glasses their mother had requested.
Aston chuckled, leaning in to kiss Tilisha on the cheek. "Honey, you outdo yourself every time," he said, sniffing the air appreciatively. Then, with a quick peck to Veeona's forehead, he settled into a chair, rubbing his hands together. "This looks amazing. Is it my birthday, or did you all just feel like spoiling me today?"
The comment drew a round of laughter from everyone except Kala, whose sulking figure was just visible from the kitchen. Even Rian couldn't suppress a grin as he returned to the sink, shaking his head at the familiar antics.
Dinner was a lively affair, filled with chatter and the clinking of utensils. As they ate, Aston turned his attention to Kala, who was still frowning and picking at her food.
"What's wrong, kiddo?" Aston asked, his tone gentle but curious.
Before Kala could answer, Tilisha cut in with a knowing smirk. "She's probably still arguing about those Radiants. Isn't that right, Kala? Who's your favorite Radiant again?"
Veeona jumped in with a teasing grin. "Crimson Nova, isn't it? Though, honestly, he's not even that strong."
Kala's eyes flashed, and she straightened up like a lioness ready to defend her cub. "You better watch your mouth, Veeona! Crimson Nova is a legend. He has twenty million followers on Trendia! Twenty million!" She jabbed a finger at her phone for emphasis.
Aston chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Well, I prefer Velvet Viper. She's got style."
Tilisha's eyes narrowed as she set down her fork, her voice sharp and playful. "Oh, so it's because of her butt, isn't it?" she said, raising an eyebrow at her husband.
The table erupted into laughter, with even Kala cracking a small smile despite herself. Aston threw his hands up in mock surrender. "What? She's a strategic genius! The other stuff is just... a bonus."
Rian shook his head, confused by the exchange as he took another bite. "Wait... who—or what—are Radiants?" he asked, his brows furrowing. The table turned to him in unison, their reactions a mix of amusement and incredulity.
"Oh, come on, Rian," Kala scoffed, her annoyance replaced with exasperation. "Everyone knows what Radiants are!"
"You're joking, right?" Veeona added, her lips twitching into a grin. "Radiants are literally everywhere. It's like saying you've never heard of the sun."
Aston leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Kiddo, sometimes I wonder where you've been living."
"I'm not joking," Rian replied, glancing between them with a bewildered look. "What are you even talking about?"
Kala rolled her eyes and thrust her phone toward him. "Look! Crimson Nova. Twenty million followers! The absolute GOAT."
Rian took the phone, his curiosity finally piqued. The screen displayed a vibrant image of a man in a striking red and gold suit, his glowing fists crackling with energy. The caption below detailed his latest feat with animated discussions flooding the comments.
"Superpowered people with insane abilities," Kala explained, her voice dripping with pride. "They're celebrities, trendsetters... basically gods among us. How do you not know this?"
Aston chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Guess your brother's just being funny again," he said, clearly entertained by what he assumed was a joke, while Veeona shook her head, grinning.
Kala, however, took this as her chance to shine. She pushed her phone closer to Rian again. "Look at Crimson Nova! Twenty million followers! The GOAT, Rian, the GOAT!"
As Kala and Veeona bickered over Crimson Nova's ranking, their voices began to fade into the background. Rian kept staring at the phone, the glowing image of Crimson Nova seeming almost surreal. Finally, he muttered under his breath, "What the fuck happened to Earth?"