Damian's body lay crumpled in the dirt, his breath shallow and his vision swimming. The bull-headed beast towered over him, raising its massive fists for the final blow. The air around him burned with the stench of sulfur, and the ground trembled beneath the weight of the creature's rage.
But then, the voice came again, louder this time, cold and commanding.
"Rise, harbinger. You are not finished."
A surge of energy exploded through Damian's body, dark and all-consuming. His muscles tightened as an unfamiliar power coursed through him. The bull-headed beast hesitated, sensing the sudden shift. Damian's eyes snapped open, glowing faintly with streaks of dark purple. He rolled to the side as the creature's fists came crashing down, pulverizing the ground where he had been.
He staggered to his feet, a black and purple aura swirling around him. The power was intoxicating—destructive and unrelenting. The voice whispered again.
"Destroy."
Damian raised his hand instinctively. A surge of dark energy erupted from his fist, slamming into the beast's chest. The creature howled as the energy tore through it, disintegrating its grotesque form in a burst of ash and dark light. Damian fell to one knee, panting, the newfound power leaving him shaken but alive.
The World Changes
Miles away, chaos engulfed the cities. The once-bustling streets of New York were now battlefields. People ran screaming as voids continued to rip through the skies, unleashing more monstrous invaders. Skyscrapers crumbled, fires raged, and the sounds of despair echoed everywhere.
Television screens in abandoned shop windows flickered with emergency broadcasts. A grim-faced news anchor struggled to maintain composure as footage of the carnage played behind her.
"This is… an unprecedented global catastrophe. Reports confirm that these creatures, dubbed 'Voidborn,' have appeared in nearly every major city. Military forces have been deployed, but…"
She paused, swallowing hard as another clip rolled—a squad of soldiers firing at a towering, spider-like monster. Their bullets ricocheted harmlessly off its chitinous hide before the creature struck, reducing them to a crimson mist.
"…but conventional weapons appear to be ineffective. Casualties are mounting by the minute. Experts are urging all civilians to seek shelter, though..." Her voice cracked. "There may be no safe place left."
Another screen switched to shaky footage captured by a civilian. A man in a torn suit stood in the middle of a street, flames erupting from his hands as he faced down a swarm of smaller Voidborn. His fire blasts incinerated several of the creatures, but more kept coming. A bystander's voice trembled as they spoke over the video.
"People… people are using magic. Real magic. What the hell is happening?"
The Awakening of Magic
As the relics awakened, so too did humanity. Across the globe, individuals discovered latent abilities they never knew they possessed. Some could conjure fire or ice, others could manipulate the earth or heal wounds with a touch. These newfound powers gave humanity a fleeting chance to fight back.
In a devastated Paris, a woman wielding twin blades coated in crackling electricity stood atop a pile of monster corpses, rallying survivors. In Tokyo, a group of teens used their telekinetic powers to hurl debris at a massive serpent-like Voidborn. Small pockets of resistance formed, but the victories were short-lived. For every monster they defeated, more emerged, stronger and more ferocious.
Panic gripped the world. Social media exploded with theories—some claiming the apocalypse was divine punishment, others blaming secret experiments or alien invasions. Governments declared martial law, but their forces were overwhelmed. The streets became a chaotic blend of survivors, rogue magic users, and rampaging monsters.
Damian's Escape
Back in the wasteland, Damian leaned against a crumbled wall, his breathing ragged. The voice was silent now, but the power still lingered in his veins, coiled and waiting. His mind raced as he replayed Jonah's betrayal.
"Surviving," Jonah had said before ripping the Obsidian Heart from his chest. Damian's fists clenched, dark energy flickering around them.
A guttural roar snapped him back to reality. Another Voidborn, smaller but no less menacing, slithered toward him on spindly legs, its eyeless head tilting as if sensing his presence. Damian tried to summon the energy again, but his body refused. He was too drained.
"Not now," he muttered, stumbling backward. The creature advanced, its fanged jaw opening wide. Just as it lunged, Damian's instincts took over. He ducked low, grabbing a broken metal pipe from the ground and driving it into the monster's throat. It shrieked, thrashing violently before collapsing in a heap.
Damian fell to his knees, trembling. The power wasn't enough—not yet. He needed time, strength, and answers. He couldn't die here. Not until he found Jonah. Not until he made him pay.
In the distance, he saw the faint glow of fires and heard the sound of shouting. Survivors. If he could reach them, he might find shelter—or at least a moment to regroup.
Gritting his teeth, Damian pushed himself to his feet and began to move. Each step was a struggle, but he refused to stop. The dark aura flickered faintly around him, a reminder of the power waiting to be unleashed.
Above him, the sky churned with black voids, the edges of reality unraveling. The apocalypse was just beginning, and Damian knew one thing for certain: the world would never be the same.