Zero hours: Clash of legends
Prologue: Zero Hour
In the vast emptiness of space, where the stars burned like eternal watchmen, they came. The Zeros, an alien race born from the Void Nexus—a dimension beyond the comprehension of mortal minds. They were not conquerors in the traditional sense; they were perfection incarnate, beings that believed the weak had no right to exist. And to them, humanity was the epitome of weakness.
The invasion was swift and merciless. Earth’s defenses, no matter how advanced, crumbled like sand before the storm. Cities turned to ash, oceans boiled, and the cries of the fallen echoed through the ruins. Humanity, for all its progress and ingenuity, was powerless. The Zeros’ leader, Alpha Prime, declared Earth’s fate with chilling finality:
“Your existence is a stain upon the cosmos. You will be erased.”
But before the Zeros could deliver their final blow, the skies cracked with an unnatural light. A rift opened, and from it emerged a being unlike anything seen before. It was neither Zero nor human, neither beast nor god. Its form was ever-shifting—blinding light one moment, a shadowy abyss the next. It spoke, its voice resonating through the minds of all who heard it.
“I am the Arbiter,” it declared, its tone neither kind nor cruel, “and I will not allow this annihilation to proceed unchecked.”
Alpha Prime, unshaken, confronted the Arbiter. “Who are you to interfere with the natural order?”
The Arbiter’s response was simple, yet its weight crushed the very air around them.
“Balance must be preserved. You claim to be superior, but you must prove it. Let the strongest of your kind face the strongest of theirs. Twelve against twelve. Champions of Earth against the champions of the Void.”
The Zeros hesitated, their pride unwilling to reject the challenge. Humanity, desperate and beaten, had no choice but to accept. The Arbiter’s rules were final:
Each side would choose twelve warriors.
The battles would take place in a realm crafted by the Arbiter itself, where no weapon or trick could interfere.
The victors would decide the fate of Earth.
Yet, there was one twist. To the twelve chosen humans, the Arbiter bestowed a gift: the ability to reach their full potential—powers drawn from the essence of their very souls. The weak would become mighty, and the mighty would ascend to legends.
Across time and space, the Arbiter began its work. From the shadows of history, it summoned Leonidas, the king who defied an empire; Joan of Arc, the saint who burned for her cause; and ten others, each with their own tales of triumph and tragedy. They awoke in the Arbiter’s realm, dazed but burning with newfound strength.
The Zeros, too, gathered their champions—the Zero Twelve, beings bred for destruction, each more fearsome than the last.
As the Arbiter stood between the two sides, it raised a hand, and the battlefield shifted into an endless expanse of shifting light and shadow. The first match was about to begin.
“Let the battle commence,” the Arbiter intoned, its voice echoing with ancient power. “Fight not only for victory but for the legacy of your kind.”
The fate of Earth would not be decided by armies or weapons but by the will of its greatest souls. As the first combatants stepped forward, humanity’s hope burned brighter than it ever had, for in the face of extinction, even the smallest spark could ignite a revolution.
The hour of reckoning had begun. Zero Hour.
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