Powerlessness is one of the greatest fears of the living. It is the primal dread, the one that gnaws at souls, the cause of the primordial abandonment of all dreams. Humans are more prone to it than anyone else: their fragile egos, masked behind faces filled with despair. Even the abyss itself has never ceased to admire us. Not a place, but an essence. The last space where the unreal and the tangible coexist, it represents the final surviving remnant of the wrath of both the Creator and the Created.
Two silhouettes stand in this sacred void. One is naked, its skin a canvas imbued with the finitude of all things; the other is clad in armor so dazzling it seems woven with the blessings of the Divine.
The one closest to God trembles; his primordial fear is about to manifest in this world. He declares:
This ultimate level? So, you did have the means to overthrow him.
The naked man, emanating a transcendent truth, nods at his words. An inscrutable smile plays on his lips, somewhere between contempt and amusement.
Overthrow him? That word cannot describe what I could have done to him. Will he ever even be reached? Only the future will give us answers to our curiosity.
Their gazes meet—two abysses of meaning and silence. The moment stretches, tense like the string of a bow, until a single certainty imposes itself: the end is near.
Terra. Ten times larger than Earth, it is a world forged in excess, yet broken by a transcendent evil. For over a century, monsters from parallel universes have appeared without warning, like nightmares emerging from a malevolent void. They leave in their wake ruins and screams, while life—fragile, valiant, and defiant—struggles to persist.
But Terra is not a world of ordinary mortals. Its inhabitants are superhumans, born with gifts that defy logic. They were created to survive, to dominate, and to oppose their light against the darkness that assails them.
To coordinate this resistance, an organization was formed: Yorquin Ranger Terra. For the past century, it has embodied humanity's last bulwark. Its forces, united under one emblem, fight with a ferocity only the fear of extinction can fuel.
In the futuristic city of Deza, a devastating explosion shakes the heart of the metropolis, causing buildings to collapse and unleashing unprecedented panic. A wave of fire and dust ravages the first structures. The streets drown in a cacophony of sirens and screams. Tens of thousands of civilians fall, swept away as if victims of an unerring natural disaster.
Then come the monsters. These abominations, their forms distorted by alien logic, emerge from fissures in the ground. Their arrival is a howl of chaos. Every movement they make is a poem of destruction, a ballet of terror. Their purpose is to paint Deza with a spectacular end. They are seen by all as the ultimate artists of annihilation.
In the regional headquarters of Retyu, chaos unfolds across screens saturated with data. The scanners blare incessantly. The staff assesses the monsters' level of danger. Amid a macabre dance of urgency and panic, they strive to maintain a semblance of order.
Stress grips them with doubt. They must send an alert to the available combat forces while formulating a strategy to halt this new invasion. Yet the scanners detect an unusual threat, unlike anything before.
- Commander, this wave of monsters is different. They're emerging from inside our planet, several thousand meters below the surface. We've estimated the threat level to be Rank B.
The commander raises a gaze filled with cold determination. He's ready to deliver his decisive verdict.
-Rank B, you say? This is a state of emergency! Order all units on-site to act immediately. Send them a message to notify them of incoming reinforcements. Forward a report of events to the regional headquarters.
But respite is a luxury. A soldier bursts in, out of breath, his eyes haunted.
-Commander! Our troops in Deza are being completely slaughtered. Civilian casualties are escalating at an alarming rate. We need heroes—now!
In Deza, now strewn with corpses, the city trembles once more under an alarming and ominous truth. Its streets, once vibrant with life, are now carpeted with mutilated bodies and debris. Survivors scream, their cries slicing through the air like blades. Heroes are being overwhelmed with such violence that horrifying screams of terror and pain echo throughout the city. The troops in this city are not as strong compared to those of the larger cities.
Amid this carnage, a lone hero remains standing. His armor, shattered in multiple places, barely clings to his exhausted body. Before him, a pregnant woman clutches her little girl, their eyes brimming with a silent prayer. His duty as a hero demands that he rise against the beast.
The hero faces a C-rank creature, but his movements are heavy, burdened with fatigue. Each blow exchanged is a symphony of pain and despair. The grotesque, unrelenting creature pushes him back again and again.
The little girl, tears brimming in her eyes, speaks with a trembling voice.
— Mom... is he going to save us?
The hero staggers but holds his ground. Not for himself, not for honor, but for them. As the monster's roar reverberates once more, nearly drowning out the girl's voice, destiny hangs suspended, silent, elusive.
The hero realizes his attacks are ineffective against this creature. He cries out in a sharp, desperate tone.
— Damn it!!! This monster is resistant to my light magic. I can't lose. I have to protect them at all costs! Light Magic! Holy Embrace!
He lets out a cry filled with hope and determination. The monster, however, stands unyielding, unmoved by a spell that cannot even faze it.
The hero decides to persist in his assault, while the mother and her daughter remain frozen, literally paralyzed by fear. He uses every ounce of strength to strike the monster in close combat. Yet its indifference to his relentless attacks forces him to take a faltering step backward.
Immaculate arms, forged of pure light, burst forth from his trembling hands. They coil around the creature, constricting with prodigious force, trying to suffocate the impenetrable beast before him. Yet, the monster does not yield. It stands there, indifferent, almost contemptuous, as though the spell were no more than a breeze brushing against a mountain.
The hero's cry is a mix of hope and fury: he cannot afford to fail. Behind him, a woman clings to her daughter, their faces frozen in paralyzing terror. They remain still, like living statues amidst this inferno of unimaginable violence.
Abandoning the safety of his magic's range, the hero engages the monster in close combat. Every strike he lands carries the urgency of sacrifice, every movement a silent plea to fate. But the massive, implacable creature absorbs his attacks with inhuman coldness, forcing the hero to stagger backward with trembling steps.
— I will give my life for those who must be protected! I will not lose! Light Magic! Blinding Spark!
An intense light engulfs the battlefield, momentarily obscuring the monster's vision. The hero leaps into the air, channeling all the magic he has left. Suspended above the creature, he gathers every ounce of his magical energy into his hands.
His arms tremble, his muscles scream in protest, but he prepares for a final assault. However, he quickly forgets that the mother and her daughter are still present on the battlefield. Suspended in the sky, vulnerable, he proclaims:
— Source Circle: Lamentations of the Archangel!
A torrent of magic flows in a constant stream, its velocity breaking through the sound barrier dozens of times over. His arms, tortured by the density of magic, fracture repeatedly. It is a moment far beyond mere survival instinct—our hero feels a profound despair. Upon contact with the monster, all his magic dissipates, nullified by a means beyond the hero's understanding. He plummets, falling into the clutches of the monster.
The creature chuckles. It grabs the falling hero like a limp, broken doll, then swats him away with a devastating blow from its tail. The impact hurls him into a building, which collapses into a cascade of rubble. The shockwave obliterates everything around him.
It was time for him to be consumed. He was not granted the blessing of an instant end; the struggle was futile for the hero, who collapsed under the weight of this challenge. Blood trickled from his lips as he helplessly gazed at the bodies of his comrades strewn amidst the carnage. The end of Deza was inevitable.
Frustrated by his incompetence, his trembling words escaped in anguish at the thought of an impending death:
— Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! If there is a God, any deity out there, I beg you… help us!
Overwhelmed, he suddenly fell into a critical state, teetering between life and death. The woman and her daughter seized the moment of respite to flee. But behind them, the monster began its hunt. Its footsteps echoed like war drums, and its jaws, lined with diamond-crushing fangs, opened with macabre hunger. Its nauseating aura was lethal to lesser beings, whom it regarded as nothing more than prey.
Then, they vanished.
The mother and daughter opened their eyes, disoriented, and found themselves at the city's edge. A silhouette stood near the hero's unconscious body. Back at the battlefield, a man clad in a red combat suit and a blue shirt appeared beside the fallen hero.
— You are brave, young hero. I'll take it from here. You're part of the chaos sowing destruction in this city.
The monster growled, its instincts on high alert.
— You... You are strong. I can feel it. You're not like other humans.
The man raised an eyebrow, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
— And you... An insult to creation. Your existence, as pathetic as those marks on your grotesque body, disgusts me. You're nothing but a failed experiment. Lab rats like you always get replaced. Don't worry; you won't be the only one to go.
The monster, unable to bear the insult, roared, furious at the affront, and charged. Its claw descended like a celestial hammer. But the man, without apparent effort, blocked the attack with a simple movement of his arm. He delivered a knee strike so powerful that it would erase this unfortunate beast from existence forever.
The hero, barely conscious, opened his eyes partially. He caught a fleeting glimpse of the individual who had saved him, but the man vanished from his sight almost instantly. Moving throughout the city, the man eradicated deviants of any rank in his path. These abominations did not fall in titanic battles; they were humiliated, obliterated in a single blow.
While delivering this total humiliation to the opposing forces, the man mused to himself.
— I'll need to move to a city with stronger heroes; these ones aren't exactly up to the task. Not that I blame them, since this is a B-rank threat for them.
Suddenly, a monster intercepted him with a powerful hammer-like punch. The man stopped, blocking the attack, seemingly containing a blow that could have leveled the entire district. The monster was a green humanoid, its body both elastic and robust.
— My name is Greyo, the monster of adaptation. I am a genius who transcended the Terranian condition. What's your name, human?
The man approached, towering over the creature, and replied calmly.
— My name is Atachi Gosaiblaze, a simple human trying to get home. Let me explain why I'm going to kill you in a few moments.
Greyo was puzzled by this human who seemed intent on telling his life story. Atachi began his brief monologue.
— For starters, I just wanted to take a nice bath, cook myself a delicious meal, and relax in front of a show. But you and your horde of monsters not only killed innocent people but also destroyed the city of Deza—and my damn apartment! I'll never forgive you for that. This is the 15th time I've had to move in eight months... I'm going to eliminate all of you at the source!
Greyo laughed, a harsh, cruel sound.
— You're hilarious, human. Let me incinerate you and every miserable being walking this Earth! Nuclear Piercer!
Utilizing the strange structure of his body, Greyo accelerated his atoms, creating a nuclear explosion that he concentrated into the tip of his index finger, amplifying the attack's lethality. Atachi, however, appeared merely irritated.
Watching the monotonous attack of this unpleasant creature, Atachi, losing his patience, decided to act. With a snap of his fingers, the explosion—capable of pulverizing a planet—extinguished in an instant, along with the complete destruction of Greyo's limbs.
Greyo's body, capable of withstanding planetary destruction, was utterly humiliated by a man who just wanted to go home.
— What? I'm on the ground? My limbs are completely gone? Could this human be responsible for such a miracle? My entire life, I worked to reach the pinnacle of genetic modification, creating my own species of monsters. This attack should have killed you. Are there beings superior to the quintessence of adaptation?
Atachi ignored him, his focus elsewhere as he noticed the heroes approaching the ruins.
Greyo realized something utterly shocking.
— Wait a second. My body couldn't adapt to this guy. Even my regeneration failed. Who is this man?
— You just got unlucky, Atachi replied. You happened to cross paths with someone who isn't the weakest of men. Without being too arrogant, I'd say I'm the strongest man in the world.
Atachi stepped toward the soon-to-be lifeless body, placed his foot above Greyo, and delivered the final execution:
— I need to find a new place to live. I'll give you the chance for some last words—make them interesting, misunderstood creature. Speak now!
— You think I'll die to someone like—
Atachi cut him off with a fatal tone, delivering the inevitable end to Greyo.
— Shut up, already! You're boring.
Exerting force over a short distance, Atachi created a shockwave that carved a crater 5 meters wide and 10 meters deep. Sensing the heroes' arrival, he left the borders of Deza as a simple civilian. Surveying the area, he ensured no one had seen him and then headed to the rescue center.
The aftermath was grim: over fifty percent of the city's population, more than ten million residents, had been killed. Flames engulfed every intact fragment of the city, leaving behind a portrait of a place destined to fade into oblivion.
At the heart of Deza, the heroes finally arrived five minutes later. However, no monsters or humans greeted them—only a graveyard where all living beings had either perished or found peace.
— How is this possible? one hero muttered. Command, report in.
— What's the situation at your location? the commander replied.
— Commander, all the heroes are dead, except for one, who is in critical condition. But we didn't need to act. The entire wave was already annihilated by an unknown individual.