His muscles coiled like springs, his mind locked onto the hundred-meter track before him. His opponents flanked him on either side, their faces taut with focus. The gun fired.
Bang!
Leonel exploded forward. His body moved as though it had become one with the track, each step eating up the distance. The wind roared past his ears, his heartbeat a war drum pounding in his chest. The finish line loomed ahead, and he surged forward with everything he had left. Then—
He crossed it.
The world was a blur of flashing lights and screaming voices. His lungs burned, his legs ached, but when the announcer's voice cracked through the stadium, he barely registered the words: "And the champion is—Leonel Morales!"
Euphoria coursed through him. He had done it. Years of work had paid off. But even as his teammates hoisted him onto their shoulders, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered: Is this the peak?
Because Leonel wasn't just a sprinter. He wasn't just an athlete. He was a dreamer.
And today, he had one more battle to fight.
The championship after-party was electric. Laughter, cheers, and the occasional pop of a champagne bottle filled the air. Leonel wove through the throng of athletes, coaches, and admirers, his eyes locked onto a singular target—Aina.
Aina Brazinger. The ice queen of their academy. The girl he had confessed to five hundred and twenty times. Every single one had ended in failure. But his father had always told him that persistence was key.
And tonight, he had won something. Maybe he could win again.
Taking a deep breath, Leonel stepped forward. "Aina," he called.
She turned, her piercing blue eyes locking onto him. "Leonel," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "You're not about to make it confession number five hundred and twenty-one, are you?"
He grinned. "I figured after becoming the national champion, my odds might have improved."
Aina tilted her head. "Your persistence is… admirable. But—"
Boom!
The entire world shuddered.
Glasses shattered. Screams erupted. The ground itself cracked beneath them.
Leonel barely had time to react before the sky darkened. But it wasn't nightfall.
It was something else.
The Third Dimension is collapsing. The Fourth Dimension is descending.
The words were not spoken. They were simply there, inscribed into his mind as though they had always existed.
Leonel staggered back, his breath shallow. The party, the championship, even Aina—all of it suddenly seemed insignificant.
Because the world itself had changed.
Reality folded. The cityscape twisted, towering skyscrapers bending like molten steel. The sky rippled like a disturbed pond, and in the distance, screams turned to something far worse.
Invalids.
They poured out of the shadows—humanoid but wrong. Eyes that stretched too wide, arms too long, bodies that shivered and shifted like static on a broken television. And they were hungry.
Aina's hand shot to her chest, eyes widening. "No… I can't…"
Leonel's gaze snapped to her, and what he saw made his blood run cold. Aina's body glowed. Symbols he couldn't understand flickered across her skin. Power radiated from her in waves.
She was awakening.
And he—
Nothing.
No symbols. No power.
Just a terrified champion standing at the edge of an apocalypse.
Those who could evolve had a slim chance of survival. Those who couldn't would die.
Leonel clenched his fists, heart hammering. No. He refused to accept that.
Because if the world was evolving, then so would he.
Even if he had to claw his way into the next dimension.