A few tourists wandered around the abbey's courtyard, pausing to admire its architecture.
The courtyard that was made of dozens of pointed archways, was vast and open.
Sunlight streamed through the giant round window above the central arch, bathing the courtyard in slanted beams of light.
The sacred and ethereal atmosphere of the abbey made everyone who entered instinctively lower their voices.
A couple of tourists stood by the colonnade, taking photos.
The woman leaned against one of the pillars, posing, while the man stood in front of her, ready to snap the picture.
Just as he was about to press the shutter, a figure in a brown hooded cloak hurried past one of the pointed arches.
The flash went off, capturing the cloaked figure in the background, the hem of their robe caught mid-swing, revealing a glimpse of a smooth, slender ankle.
Puzzled, the man looked up from his camera and saw the figure walking deeper into the abbey.
...A monk?
He stared blankly at the retreating figure, then suddenly realized—
There haven't been monks in San Galgano Abbey for years!
Under the cloak, a blond boy with a calm expression walked through the courtyard, heading toward the sanctuary at the back of the abbey.
A staff member standing by the entrance of the temple glanced at him curiously.
Just as the boy was about to step onto the stone stairs, the staff member reached out to stop him, speaking in Italian, "Excuse me, sir, could you please show your—"
He pulled down his hood, revealing golden hair like sunlight, and a cold yet strikingly beautiful face, as flawless as that of Alcibiades.
But the most striking feature on this perfectly balanced, serene, and exquisite face was his eyes—completely covered in a thick blue mist.
The staff member froze, his face turning pale at the sight of those eyes, which no human should possess.
Terrified, he grabbed for the radio at his waist, ready to call security, but the boy's soft, pale hand moved faster, gripping the man's wrist.
With a blank expression, the boy squeezed, and the staff member screamed as his wristbone shattered.
The boy pushed the man to the ground without a glance and walked into the temple.
Inside the small, ancient structure, a glass display case protected a square block of yellowish stone.
But what was truly remarkable was the black iron sword embedded deep in the center of the solid rock.
The boy stared down at the sword and placed his palm against the glass.
A flash of light flickered.
In the reflection of the glass appeared a flawless, white figure—Soren in his Angemon form.
With six wings, Soren shattered the glass.
The sharp sound of the alarm echoed with the crash of breaking glass, but he ignored it.
He only focused on the sword in the stone.
Leaning forward, he began to pull it out.
The sword inched free, and the stone began to crack.
The more he pulled, the harder it became.
As the tip of the blade was about to emerge, even Soren had to grit his teeth and summon all his strength to overcome the force that was trying to keep the sword in place.
Finally, when he pulled the sword completely free, the entire temple shook.
The ground split open, and from the deep fissure where the sword had been, a blinding light burst forth!
Soren threw away the stone sword and jumped into the growing hole in the ground.
Beneath the hole was a space about ten meters wide, glowing from a cube that was resting on a half-broken pillar.
The cube seemed to sense the presence of a living being entering the long-sealed chamber.
It hummed and trembled on the pillar, its surface rippling like waves.
Soren quietly approached the cube, lifted it from the pillar, and cradled it in his arms.
"Master, I've found it," Soren whispered softly in the underground chamber.
Meanwhile, in Florence, the capital of Tuscany, inside the Uffizi Gallery, a tall woman dusting the frame of a painting suddenly paused.
It was as if she heard something, and she glanced curiously out the window.
...
Three hours earlier, a global transmission from an alien commander had thrown over a hundred governments on Earth into chaos.
The satellites that was floating in space clearly captured the massive, toothed spaceship hovering above Earth.
The enormous vessel was wide at the top and narrow at the bottom, with smooth lines and tentacle-like thrusters extending from its base.
Its sheer size was comparable to a medium-sized asteroid, and the thought of it descending onto Earth was terrifying.
Everyone was anxiously waiting for the alien commander's call to be answered by Kal-El, the one hidden among humanity.
When faced with aliens far more powerful than anything on Earth, their existence was no longer just the stuff of sci-fi stories.
Instead, they became a looming shadow, a threat far beyond human comprehension.
People wondered.
People cried.
People were shocked.
People were afraid.
The governments around the world were searching among their citizens for someone named Kal-El.
They mobilized armed forces and held emergency international meetings to discuss how humanity should respond to this unprecedented crisis looming above Earth.
The world leaders were overwhelmed, and armies stood ready, waiting for a single command to sweep across their lands and begin the hunt for a person called Kal-El.
Amid the planet's growing tension, Clark walked calmly through the streets of Metropolis.
The outdoor café he usually visited had closed early today.
The owner, pulling down the shutters, saw him and shouted with excitement, "Superman!"
The owner asked loudly, "Did you see that message from the alien? Do you know who this Kal-El is? Hey, go catch him and hand him over! Otherwise, we're all doomed!"
Clark paused and stood quietly in front of him, his Kryptonian blue eyes as deep as the ocean.
"Is that so?" he replied softly.
The café owner ran over, grabbing Clark's wrist with desperate hope, "Only you can save us, Superman!"