The world ended on November 9, 1925.
It began as a miracle—a meteor shower so vast it turned night into a dreamscape of swirling colors. People gathered in open fields, on rooftops, in city streets, gazing at the sky with wonder. Scientists scrambled to document the celestial event, radios buzzed with excitement, and for a fleeting moment, the world was united in awe.
Then, the meteors changed course.
Defying every law of physics, they twisted mid-air, streaking downward with unnatural precision. The first impact struck the heart of New York City, a burning spear from the heavens that shattered glass and steel in an instant. Then another. And another. Fire rained from the sky, setting the world ablaze.
Tsunamis swallowed entire coastlines. Volcanoes erupted, blackening the sky with ash. The very earth trembled, reshaping mountains and carving new rivers where cities once stood. Civilization collapsed in days, millions perishing in the chaos. Those who survived would come to call it Ragnarok—the end of an era and the beginning of something far worse.
But from the ashes, something impossible emerged.
In the ruins of cities and deep within the wildlands, shimmering rings of light began to appear—perfect circles pulsing with energy, hovering just above the ground. Scientists, desperate for answers, approached these anomalies with caution. But curiosity won over fear. The first man to step through a portal vanished. Days later, he reappeared, wide-eyed and trembling, with his arms full of luminous gemstones and metals that pulsed with unknown energy.
The world took notice.
Governments, corporations, and warlords rushed to claim these Gates, as they were soon called. Expeditions were launched, and for a time, humanity believed they had found salvation—riches beyond imagining, resources to rebuild civilization. But then the monsters came.
Creatures unlike anything seen on Earth poured from the Gates—nightmares of flesh, fang, and shadow. They decimated the unprepared explorers, tearing through armed soldiers as though they were paper. Cities that had survived Ragnarok fell to these horrors, and humanity was once again at the mercy of forces it did not understand.
But in the darkness, something stirred.
Some survivors of the massacres awoke with abilities beyond human limits. Strength to shatter stone, speed to outrun bullets, power to bend fire, water, and the very air itself. These Awakeners, as they became known, were humanity's only hope.
The world changed overnight.
Nations founded the Celestial Authority (CA), an organization tasked with monitoring Gates, regulating Awakeners, and ensuring humanity's survival. Private guilds emerged, competing for dominance over Gates and their invaluable resources. Training academies were established, promising ordinary people a chance to awaken their dormant potential. And slowly, the world adapted.
By the year 2025, society had been reborn in the image of the Gates. Monster remains fueled industries—scales reforged into armor, blood refined into medicine, bones carved into weapons. But it was the crystals found within the Gates that revolutionized the world. These energy-rich minerals replaced fossil fuels, powering entire cities with a limitless source of electricity. Factories, transportation, and even weapons ran on the energy extracted from these mystical stones. The global economy no longer revolved around oil or technology; power now belonged to those who could conquer the Gates. The strength of an Awakener determined the fate of nations, the wealth of corporations, and the balance of the world itself. Those without abilities were left to watch from the sidelines, while the strong built empires upon the corpses of monsters and the power of the Gates' hidden treasures.
A sleek black Mercedes glided to a stop before a towering skyscraper, its polished exterior reflecting the city's neon lights. The rear door opened, and a young man stepped out. His jet-black hair contrasted sharply against his striking blue eyes, which held an unreadable expression. Dressed in a fitted black jacket and casual yet refined attire, he exuded a quiet confidence.
He stood at the entrance for a moment, inhaling deeply before exhaling in a slow, controlled breath. His gaze lingered on the colossal structure before him.
"This is it," he murmured.