Leo’s earliest memories were of the sea. His father, a fisher, had taken him out on their old wooden boat when he was just six. The sky had been a crisp blue, laden with smoky clouds that danced with grace whenever Leo would look up, and the horizon stretched far into the distance, endless and full of wonder. Leo remembered asking his father if the world ever ended. His father had laughed—a warm, deep laugh that echoed through the waves.
“No, son,” he had said, ruffling Leo’s hair. “The world is vast. It goes on and on. But one day, you’ll see it all for yourself, every nation, and every kind of person.”
But his father had been wrong. The world did end. Not in the way Leo had imagined as a boy. Where one would sail too far to the edge and fall, dying a miserable death. But in a way far worse than any childish nightmare. A world where survival was simply a dream.
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Leo was nine when the first rift appeared. When the rift came, it didn’t give a warning. It just happened. Leo and his mom were home. The screech of terror that came from the marketplace sawed into the two of them, jerking them into the moment. Was that a woman? Or a man? Did it matter? Leo’s mother didn’t stop to wonder. She grabbed him. She scooped him up, running outside. Leo couldn’t have formed the words to describe it, even as an adult. To a nine-year-old’s sensibilities, it was too dangerously beautiful, too captivatingly horrific, for any amount of vocabulary or brushstrokes to cover.
Leo saw it, a tear in the very fabric of the world, as if someone had ripped the air itself apart. It shimmered, jagged and unnatural, like a crack in broken glass, except this crack didn’t reflect light. Instead, it absorbed it, bending reality in strange ways. The edges of the tear pulsed with a sickly violet glow, flickering like lightning in the distance. Everything around it seemed to warp, as though the space near the tear was being pulled into it, twisted and deformed. The air felt wrong, heavy, making it hard to breathe.
Then they emerged.
At first, the creatures were shadows, barely visible against the dark light of the rift. But as they stepped through, their shapes became clearer. They were small, barely taller than Leo himself, with hunched, crooked bodies. Their skin, a sickly green-gray, stretched tight over their gaunt frames, giving them an almost skeletal appearance. Thin arms ended in long, clawed fingers that grasped crudely fashioned weapons—clubs made of splintered wood and jagged stones, blades that looked rusted and worn but deadly sharp.
Creatures with faces that twisted into malicious, contorted expressions. Their eyes, wide and gleaming, were yellow like a predator’s in the night, glowing faintly in the dim light. Jagged teeth exploded out of the mouth too big for their faces. Each time they snarled or hissed, spittle flew from their mouths, glistening in the air. Their ears were pointed and long, twitching at the slightest sound, while their noses were flat, flaring with every breath as if they were constantly sniffing the air for prey.
They moved with a feral, jerking speed, their limbs twitching unnaturally as they darted through the market. Their bent legs were too long for their squat bodies, propelling them forward in uneven, unnerving strides. Each step they took left clawed footprints in the dirt, scraping the ground as they ran.
Leo watched, frozen, his eyes wide as they swarmed over the stalls. One of them, its skin streaked with dirt and dried blood, lunged at a merchant, swinging its crude axe. The weapon came down with a sickening thud, splitting flesh from bone. Blood sprayed across the cobblestone, painting the market red. The creature let out a sharp, shrieking laugh, its high-pitched voice echoing in Leo’s ears as it wiped its blade against its ragged clothing.
Others followed, tearing through the fleeing crowd, their eyes wide with cruel delight. They moved as if driven by hunger, their eyes never staying in one place for long, always scanning, always hunting.
Leo felt his mother’s hand tighten around his own, pulling him back, but he couldn’t look away. His heart pounded in his chest, and his legs felt like stone. The monsters were real, more real than any nightmare he had ever had. And they were here, tearing through his world, turning the peaceful market into a blood-soaked battlefield.
The rift was just one of many. They appeared everywhere, in cities, villages, and wilderness. The news spread, governments scrambled, and Leo’s world quickly unraveled.
For a long time, Leo didn’t understand. He was just a boy, frightened and confused. But as the monsters slaughtered everything around them, he realized that the world he had known was gone. His father never came home. His mother wept every night. The sea, once a source of life and joy, became a graveyard as the monsters emerged from rifts all across the planet.
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By the time Leo was twelve, the world had changed completely. The rifts never closed. Others joined the small monsters, larger and more terrifying. Cities fell. Entire nations collapsed under the weight of the First Wave, and the world, once full of progress and hope, became a wasteland.
Leo’s mother did her best to keep him safe. They moved from one refugee camp to another, never staying in one place for too long. Each camp told the same story of lost loved ones, of monsters ravaging the land, of hopelessness. Food was scarce, and sickness spread faster than rumors. But it wasn’t the monsters or hunger that stole Leo’s mother. It was the meteors.
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The meteor storm struck without warning. The earth trembled, the sky turned black, and then fire rained down. Leo watched as massive chunks of rock and fire fell from the heavens, crashing into the earth with explosive force. One meteor struck near their camp, leveling everything. Leo had no time to scream as the shockwave hit. His mother was beside him one moment, and the next, the ground opened, swallowing her whole.
Leo was alone.
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The years that followed were a blur. Leo wandered through the ruins of a world that no longer resembled the one he had been born into. At fifteen, he joined a group of survivors. They taught him how to scavenge, how to hide from the monsters that now roamed freely. But survival was a cruel teacher. One by one, his new friends died, some to the beasts, some to starvation, and some to other humans.
Leo learned that faced with extinction, humans were just as dangerous as the monsters. Fights over food and resources were common. Trust was a luxury no one could afford. As Leo grew older, his heart hardened. He killed for the first time at sixteen, stabbing a man who tried to steal his supplies. It wasn’t the last time.
But through it all, one thing kept him going. The towers.
The towers had risen from the craters left by the meteors. Colossal structures, they loomed over the landscape, symbols of a new terror. From them came the Second Wave beasts, larger, faster, and deadlier than those from the rifts. Leo had seen one monster up close once. It shredded a nearby settlement as though it were made of paper. Nothing could stop it. Not guns, no bomb, not anything.
But despite the destruction, whispers of hope spread. Leo heard tales of men, men like him, but different, fighting back. They were warriors banding together under a single leader.
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Leo was twenty-five the first time he saw him. He had heard tales of the man. Of course everyone had. He was a hero, a warrior for the powerless, a figure shrouded in legend. With a glaive that shimmered in the moonlight, he could slay monsters that had haunted humanity for years. Some said he could cut through darkness itself, and others claimed he was a god among men.
Leo’s encounter with this hero happened during an attack on a small settlement where he had taken refuge. The monsters had come at night, as they often did, with their guttural growls echoing through the shadows. The survivors scrambled to defend themselves, but they found themselves outnumbered and outmatched. Just as Leo thought it was the end, he appeared.
The hero emerged from the darkness, a tall figure clad in weathered armor, his presence commanding and powerful. The gleam of his glaive caught the light, reflecting it like a beacon. Leo felt an unexplainable surge of energy wash over him. It was as if hope had taken physical form.
With a swift movement, the hero raised his glaive, and the air crackled with his aura. As he charged into the fray, Leo watched, awestruck. With each swing, the glaive arced gracefully, cutting through the air with a sound like thunder. The monsters, once so fearsome, faltered in the face of this godlike warrior.
He moved like a force of nature, effortlessly cleaving through the twisted forms of the beasts that had terrorized the settlement. Flames erupted around him, ignited by his very presence, engulfing the monsters in a blaze that turned the night into the day. Within moments, the defeated creatures littered the ground, their bodies smoldering and reduced to ash.
The villagers watched in silence, their fear melting away as they beheld the hero’s might. He fought with a fury that inspired them, a testament to the resilience of humanity.
But he didn’t stay long. Heroes like him never did. He was always moving, always fighting, driven by a purpose that the rest could only dream of. As he disappeared back into the shadows, Leo felt something swell within him, something he thought he had lost long ago.
Hope. In that fleeting moment, he knew that even in the darkest of times, there were those who could rise and protect the powerless.
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As Leo grew older, the hero he had once admired became a distant memory, fading into the annals of history. He had disappeared when the world still needed him. The darkness returned, and humanity faced its greatest trials once again. Just when all hope seemed lost, seven individuals emerged, beings with supernatural powers that could manipulate the very forces of nature. They called themselves the Espers.
These Espers descended upon the world like a storm, wielding abilities that could reshape reality. With a combined effort, they faced the Towers, formidable strongholds filled with nightmarish creatures. One by one, they shattered these dungeons, pushing back the tide of darkness that had plagued humanity. As the monsters fell, the survivors rallied around them, seeing in the Espers a chance for salvation.
Over time, some of the general population began developing powers of their own, joining the ranks of those Espers, creating a division between humanity that no one foresaw. Creating discord between those with supernatural powers and regular people.
With their newfound numbers, the Espers established Havana, a sanctuary that rose from the ashes of a shattered world. It became a beacon of light and safety, its towering structures a testament to their strength. But over time, the Espers transformed from saviors into rulers. The very beings who had once fought for humanity’s survival enforced a rigid hierarchy. Only those who gained similar abilities to them could be worthy enough to enter the city’s gates.
For the rest, those like Leo, Havana became a distant dream. The gap between the Espers and ordinary humans widened. Leo, now in his fifties, had spent years struggling in the wasteland. He had witnessed both the best and worst of humanity, fighting and scavenging, just to stay alive. Yet he clung to the hope of reaching Havana, the city that now felt like an unreachable star.
By the time Leo turned sixty, the world had grown darker still. The Espers, once symbols of hope, were now seen as tyrants by many. Inside Havana’s walls, they ruled with an iron fist, their power unchecked. Outside, the monsters continued to roam, and the suffering of ordinary humans deepened. Yet, despite the oppressive regime, Leo remained determined to reach the city, to see the place he had dreamed of for so long.
After years of hardship, Leo finally stood at the gates of Havana. The city was everything he had imagined, bright, towering. The streets were clean, and those inside lived lives of comfort and security, sheltered by the Espers. But they refused entry to Leo, an old man now.
He stood outside the gates, watching the lights of Havana flicker in the distance. His body was frail, worn down by decades of struggle. He had lost everything, his family, his friends, his youth. Yet he had survived. And now, at the end of his journey, he stood at the threshold of the city of hope.
As Leo took his final breath, he smiled. He had lived through the end of the world, through monsters, rifts, and meteors. He had witnessed the rise of the Espers and the fall of humanity into despair. In his heart, he realized it wasn’t Havana that had given him hope, nor the Espers or their towering city.
It was the journey, the fight to survive, that defined him. But with his death, humanity lost its last flicker of hope, leaving the world to grapple with the oppressive rule of the Espers.
Leo’s eyes closed, and the lights of Havana flickered out, a cruel reminder of the power that had once promised salvation but ensnared them all in tyranny. Though he never entered Havana, in his heart, he had already found his peace amid the chaos.
One day the last scion would rise. Too bad he wouldn’t be alive to see it.