Zeb barely registered the blur of Kane's massive fist before instinct kicked in. He ducked, the wind from the missed punch rustling his hair as it whipped past.
That was too close, he thought, heart pounding in his ears. Stay focused. Can't afford any distractions.
A sinister chuckle emanated from Kane. "So, you decided not to just stand there and let me smash your face in. This might actually be fun," he taunted.
Without warning, Kane charged. For someone his size, his speed was startling. He's fast—too fast, Zeb realized, eyes widening as Kane closed the distance.
Another punch flew toward him. Zeb prepared to sidestep, but Kane feinted, shifting seamlessly into a sweeping kick. The move caught Zeb off guard, his feet swept out from under him. He crashed onto the mat, the impact jarring every bone.
Towering over him, Kane stomped down with brutal force. Zeb rolled desperately, each colossal foot narrowly missing him. The crowd's displeasure grew louder, a chorus of boos echoing around the arena.
"Quit running!" Kane roared, frustration seeping into his voice.
But Zeb couldn't risk direct confrontation. Just two minutes, he reminded himself. Survive two minutes, and I get the money.
In his mind, he counted each agonizing second. The jeers intensified, spectators eager for bloodshed. Glancing briefly to the side, he noticed the man in the blue suit—the event host—watching with a frown.
Seizing a brief lull in the action, Zeb scrambled to his feet. One more minute. I can make it.
Kane's eyes flashed with anger. Letting out a primal scream, he retreated to the opposite corner. Pounding his chest, he tore off his shirt, revealing a hulking frame riddled with scars. Muscles rippled under the harsh lights, each wound a testament to past battles.
Dropping to all fours, Kane adopted the stance of a wild beast ready to pounce.
The announcer's voice boomed through the arena. "Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like Kane is getting serious now! It's a rare treat to witness his infamous boar fighting style!"
The crowd erupted into frenzied cheers, the atmosphere electric.
Zeb's stomach tightened. This isn't good.
Kane lunged forward with feral speed, closing the gap in an instant. Zeb tried to dodge, but Kane anticipated his move, slamming into him with the force of a freight train. The breath was knocked out of him as he was sent sprawling against the cage.
Gasping, he struggled to stand. Pain radiated through his body, but he couldn't give up. Thirty more seconds. Just hold on.
Kane circled him, eyes gleaming with predatory delight. "Nowhere left to run, little kitty."
The crowd's chants grew louder. "Finish him! Finish him!"
Kane unleashed a barrage of attacks—swift jabs, crushing blows. Zeb blocked desperately, but each impact chipped away at his strength. His vision blurred, ears ringing.
I have to endure. For Mom and Sera.
Staggering, he felt his knees buckle. Kane loomed over him, a shadow blotting out the harsh lights above.
"Time to end this," Kane growled, raising a clenched fist.
Zeb's thoughts raced. Is this it? Will I ever see them again?
As Kane's fist descended, the arena was suddenly enveloped in silence. Every light flickered, and the crowd's roar died mid-chant. Time seemed to freeze, all eyes drawn to an unseen before creature that appeared in the underground arena.
Sweat beaded on Cyrus's forehead as he stood alone in his father's secret chamber, the dim light casting long shadows across the cluttered room. Shelves overflowing with ancient scrolls and mysterious artifacts lined the walls, dust motes dancing in the stale air. In his hands, he clutched a worn leather folder emblazoned with the words "Project Humans."
He closed the folder thoughtfully. "Father, is this truly what you've been working on all these years?" he whispered to the empty room. "Did you foresee the Absolute Being's plan to erase most of the universes?"
A mixture of awe and urgency surged within him. Ten years isn't much time. Every second counts. Resolute, Cyrus straightened his attire, brushing off the dust that clung to his robes. He exited the hidden chamber, the heavy door sliding shut behind him with a whisper.
Back in his expansive office, he moved swiftly to his desk—a sleek piece of obsidian that seemed to absorb the light. With a tap on a crystalline panel, a holographic interface materialized before him. His fingers danced across the keys, initiating a secure communication line.
Moments later, a translucent image of Troy flickered into existence. "Yes, sir?" Troy's voice was crisp, professional.
"Report to my office immediately," Cyrus instructed, his tone leaving no room for questions.
"On my way, sir." The hologram dissipated with a soft hum.
Cyrus paced the length of his office, his mind racing. The view from the floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the sprawling cosmos—nebulae swirling like colorful storms, stars winking in and out of existence. This universe holds so much potential. I can't let it be destroyed.
The door slid open silently as Troy entered. "You needed me, sir?"
Without a word, Cyrus tossed the "Project Humans" folder to him. Troy caught it deftly, his eyes widening at the sight of the title. He began flipping through the pages, his expression shifting from curiosity to astonishment.
"Where did you find this?" Troy asked, looking up. "These plans are incredibly detailed. Humans from a planet called Earth... Why haven't we known about them?"
Cyrus leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "My father kept many secrets," he said tersely. "Apparently, Earth and its inhabitants possess unique qualities that could be pivotal for us."
Troy glanced back at the documents. "According to this, the Anti-Mites from planet 454 can bond with humans, enhancing their abilities exponentially. But the process is risky."
"Risky but necessary," Cyrus affirmed. "How soon can you mobilize a team to capture all the Anti-Mites on planet 454?"
Troy considered for a moment. "With our current resources, we could depart within the next 48 hours."
"Make it 24," Cyrus pressed. "Time is a luxury we don't have."
"Understood," Troy nodded. "But releasing the Anti-Mites on Earth—won't that endanger the humans we're trying to empower?"
A faint smile touched Cyrus's lips. "Only those who can withstand extreme conditions will survive. It's a crucible. The ones who emerge will have perfectly merged with the Anti-Mites, unlocking their full potential."
"And you believe one of them could become the warrior we need?" Troy asked.
Cyrus's gaze drifted to the cosmic vista outside. "It's more than a belief. It's our only hope."
Silence settled between them for a moment, the gravity of their situation weighing heavily.
"I'll begin preparations immediately," Troy said, snapping the folder shut.
"Keep me updated on every development," Cyrus instructed. "And Troy—discretion is paramount. We can't afford any interference."
"Of course, sir." With a respectful bow, Troy exited the office.
Left alone, Cyrus exhaled deeply. He walked over to the window, placing a hand against the cool glass. The stars seemed to pulse with urgency, a constant reminder of the ticking clock.
"Father," he murmured, "you left me with more questions than answers. But perhaps this project is the key to everything."
He turned away, his mind already strategizing the next steps. There was much to do—allocating resources, monitoring the Anti-Mites' integration, preparing for the inevitable challenges.
Ten years to find a savior among an unsuspecting species. Ten years to prevent our universe from fading into oblivion.
Determination hardened his features. Cyrus activated his personal console, summoning data streams and logistical readouts. He immersed himself in the flood of information, eyes scanning rapidly.
Hours slipped by unnoticed until a soft chime alerted him to an incoming message. Troy's face appeared on a smaller holographic display.
"Sir, the team is assembled and ready to depart for planet 454 ahead of schedule," Troy reported.
"Excellent," Cyrus replied. "Proceed with the utmost caution. The Anti-Mites are volatile creatures."
"Understood. We'll maintain constant communication."
"Good. And Troy—ensure the humans remain unaware of our involvement. The experiment must run its natural course."
"Of course, sir."
As the transmission ended, Cyrus allowed himself a moment of quiet contemplation. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but action was necessary.
He retrieved the "Project Humans" folder once more, thumbing through sketches of human anatomy, integration models, and theoretical projections. Amid the complex diagrams, a handwritten note caught his eye—a message from his father.
"In the smallest of beings lies the greatest potential. Trust in the unseen strength of humanity."
Cyrus closed the folder, a newfound resolve settling within him. "I hope you're right, Father. For all our sakes."