Season 1: Flames of Darkness
It was September 2024, when millions of meteorites the size of pebbles fell to our world. Those who touched the seemingly tiny stones were infected with what humanity calls the Xyz virus, turning humans into the Ashen, mindless cannibalistic creatures that preyed on and devoured others.
But despite humanity’s efforts. They could not contain them. And in just a few decades – humanity has fallen. Earth has fallen.
As of 2300, roughly only 45 million people remain across the world.
Yet there is hope. With the coming of the Ashen, humanity discovered the aether, colloquially also called magic. And with the aether is the rise of individuals capable of manipulating it.
The Awakened.
– The Museum of Human Cultures, published March 2334
1. Death
2347 A.D.,
Panamerican League of United Dominions, the Dominion of St. Johh, the rich neighbourhood of Upper Claret District.
Horror. How else could he describe it as he watched from up high?
Abandoned vehicles, doors flung open in haste, as a stampede of people ran for their lives.
The buildings were ruined and in flames. Sirens blared, yet they were without the persons that’s supposed to man them. No…, Lucas thought, eyes bloodshot behind his black mask.
He leaped down from the rooftop, bending his knees to absorb the impact from the ground. That hurt.
Frantic, his eyes darted about, seeking them – a nigh suffocating fear welling up in his chest – making it difficult for him to breathe.
Amid the street’s destruction, and through the smoke, he yelled their names–– looking about the chaos with crazed eyes. “Mom! Micah!” He yelled their names, past from the point of caring if anybody finds out his identity as a SPECTRA.
After all, their mask only bears meaning if they have others to protect. So, why would his identity matter if his family dies anyway?
Yet. He didn’t find them.
Wherever he ran – went – it was the same. A stampede. It was a miracle that they had not yet ran over him in their panic.
For everyone sought their own survival. Their screams overlapping in the air in a song of death…
Some pushed against each other, instincts of survival overshadowing their instincts to care.
Not that he blamed them. It is in the nature of men to care first about their own before others. Just like what he’s doing now.
And if they can afford to, then they can choose to care about the lives of others later.
Only heroes would see to others first before themselves.
And in this world. There are no heroes. Only survivors.
No matter how much that frail woman in the distance screamed for a hero, she found none but the foot of others stepping upon her being; pushed by the surging crowd.
Yet she didn’t seem to mind. “Amica! My daughter! Where is she? Where is she?!”
Lucas was about to look away, knowing the mother’s death was a hair’s breadth away. When suddenly, a hulking man stepped in to protect her from the stampede.
“We need to leave now!” the man said as he dragged the mother with great force.
Yet it was futile. The mother’s eyes spoke true– she did not want to live. “Brock! You need to help me! I can’t find Amica!” the mother begged.
An excuse to remain. An excuse to die. Lucas understood.
“She’s gone, Jen!" the so-called Brock said as he pointed at a nearby body. "We have to go!” he said and tried to make the mother stand up again.
“Brock! More are coming! They’re getting close! We have to go!” a loud voice echoed about.
When Brock heard this, Lucas saw within his eyes only sheer surrender.
Surrender. Yes. That means Brock is leaving the mother.
But as Jen slumped, and Brock briefly released his grip, he whispered something. They may be far, but with Lucas’ enhanced hearing, he heard it. “…Jen. Two of your babies survived. Are you really going to kill yourself and abandon them?”
Jen paled, bowing her head as if in shame, her form visibly shaking.
Brock signalled a group of men to escort Jen away.
And as to why he was drawn to this scene, Lucas didn’t know.
But he had not the time to ponder.
Thoughts interrupted by a scream, he noticed from his peripherals a group of children running away from something.
They were led by a bigger child.
A child just like him but still a head smaller. She looked about his age. No less than 13 years just like him. “Get away! Get awaaay!” she screamed.
They were being chased by an Ashen.
Ashen… A lifeless husk with a skin like ash – white. Its grey eyes filled with mindless hunger and wrath.
It’s too late, he thought, deciding to leave the children to die. Not even the others stopped to help them. So, why would he?
Sure, as a SPECTRA, he’s duty-bound to protect others, so long as that is reasonable. But what could ever be the point in saving them if they were going to die anyway?
And if he were to stop, he had to help them find safety somehow. But if he does, what about his family? They could still be alive. And every second counts.
He then closed his eyes as the Ashen leaped forward.
But the girl leading the group stopped to face the threat, opening both her arms wide open as she closed her eyes to meet her fate.
Don’t be a fool, Lucas thought as he flashed his eyes open. His body moved, as if with a will of its own. Mom, Micah–– and everyone… will hate you if they find out.
Moving like a blur, he rushed to the chaser and swung his blade. A clean slice. Its head parted from its body easily.
He looked around, and noticed people were being bitten left and right. They will turn any moment soon.
So. “Follow me,” he told the group of children before leading them through a maze of alleys.
He slew some stray Ashens in the way and only stopped when he found an abandoned house.
Inside, he swung off the blood from his blade. “Do you guys know them?” he asked as he removed his phone from his pocket, showing them the photo of Micah and his mother.
The girl leading the group shook her head as she slowly pushed the door close with her back. She sniffed her snot as she wiped the unstoppable waterfall of tears from her silver eyes.
Silver? Is she also a Prime? But I can’t sense aether from her, he thought. And if she truly was, the government would have already found out about her. SPECTRA would already have. So that can’t be the case. Whatever. It doesn’t matter right now.
When Lucas saw the children begin to huddle behind the girl, their eyes darting about in fear, he said, “When I go back out, leave immediately.”
He pointed out the window to the direction of 55th Street. “That’s where I came from. So if you keep heading to 55th Street, you’ll find the Defense evacuating people out there. It’s too dangerous to send dropships here,” he said. “When you leave, exit from the back door of the house and move through the alleys. Not the main street.”
The group of kids looked reluctant.
Lucas sighed. “I suppose with more Ashen showing up, it shouldn’t be long now for reinforcement to arrive,” he said. “Alright. Stay here and remain quiet. Even when a stray comes in, you’ll be fine if you just keep your lips sealed and stick to the shadows. Leave only when the rescue arrives.”
The Ashen have camera-like eyes. Their vision is dependent on the amount of light. If the human eye can still see in low light, it would be akin to darkness for the Ashen.
So they hunt only during the day. But even if they were like humans–– quiet at night. They’re never asleep.
The silver-eyed girl asked. “How would we know when rescue arrives?”
“You’ll know. It’ll be noisy,” Lucas said before heading for the door.
The girl grabbed his sleeve. “What about you? You’re not much bigger than me. Than us.”
Lucas forced a smile behind his mask. “I’m a Prime,” he said, pointing at his own silver eyes. He then touched his mask. “And you see this, right? This means I’m a SPECTRA too. The best of the best. So, I’ll be fine.”
There was doubt in the girl’s eyes. “But you… your eyes. Are you crying? A-are you OK?”
“Yeah. Just dust.”
The girl didn’t look convinced. “O-okay. BUT… take care, OK? I hope you find them!” her voice trailed off as Lucas left.
Lucas wished he did as he returned their waves of goodbye.
***
While their district didn’t look the same anymore, long gone was the pristine streets and avenues – replaced by only ruins – the path was still familiar.
So he kept running. Their house should just be a few blocks away.
Until finally, there it was – Plume Boulevard.
Rushing to their house, he stopped.
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His complexion turned a ghostly pallor as if the very life had been leached from his veins. The house was gone. There was only a debris of where it once stood.
“Mom!” he said when he saw her lying on the ground.
One of those monsters stood over her. The walking corpse of a child. An Ashen, Lucas thought.
But it looked like it was hesitating. Why?
When the Ashen turned around. It was his little brother.
“Micah…?” He hesitated with a gulp and Micah roared before jumping at him, his fangs far sharper than Lucas’ blade.
He’s gone, Lucas, he thought. That form is just but a bastardization of his memories. “I’m sorry.” Lucas embraced him… his blade piercing his brother’s heart.
The prior rage in Micah’s eyes. They were gone. Just a look of peace and relief instead.
A tear streaked down Lucas’ cheek, as he gently lay his brother on the ground. He bowed his head, his locks curtaining his features.
A voice. “…Cass?”
He shot a glance to the voice. She’s still alive. His mom is still alive.
He coughed, waving at the smoke as he rushed by her side. He knelt on the ground and grasped her hand. Light. Cold. As if to never regain their warmth… perhaps they never would. “Mom.” Not yet. Please.
He quivered as he checked her pulse. Beating. But weak.
She opened her eyes and with a gasp, struggled to speak.
“Don’t say anything, Mom. Here, around my shoulder, we’ll get you out of here,” he said.
Instead. “Always remember,” she said, touching the birthmark on his left index finger with her thumb. “This is a key…,” she said, a squint in her eyes.
“What are you talking about, Mom?” he asked. His birthmark has always been odd. It was shaped like a ring tattoo.
“Livia and the Director. They will tell you. You must–– find it.”
“Find w–”
She interrupted him, her eyes briefly regaining their strength. A gaze of sheer intent. “Let me see your face,” she whispered. With a gentle motion, she lifted his mask.
Lucas closed his eyes. “…You knew, didn’t you?”
“Always. But there is no way I could have ever stopped you,” she said as a smile played on her lips when she traced the lines of his cheek. “God… You look so beautiful,” she said.
He shook his head. “We need to go, Mom… Please, come on. It’s okay. I’m already here, yes?” he said. It’s no time to dawdle.
Her lips quivered as she teared up before shaking her head. “I’m so sorry, Cass. For everything.”
Lucas widened his eyes. “Sorry? It was I who ran away from you guys. I… I––,” he whispered a stutter. “… I’m sorry I abandoned you.”
Many Primes found and trained by the government like him are orphans. And perhaps it was because of this that Lucas felt compelled to run away from home.
He had to somehow justify his existence to others, who, unlike him, lived only to fight–– without a family to come back to. But he was different. He had a family. And he hated that he had a family.
And so, he abandoned them, simply because he wanted to fit in.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” Lucas whispered as he bit the lower side of his trembling lip – his tear falling upon his mother’s cheek.
She let out a weak laughter. “Oh, please… We’ve always been proud of you. Because we lov––…” Her hands slowly fell to her sides.
“…Mom?”
She did not respond.
He gently shook her. “Mom? Wake up, we need to go.”
She did not respond.
Denied even closure, he grew quiet, lips pressed together in denial. Gone. She’s gone. Just like that.
The flames still roared, their heat searing his skin. He held her hand again, refusing to let go this time. Who else would hold her?
No one.
“So much for being a Prime,” he whispered to himself as he knelt on the ground, still holding her hand.
A Prime. Oh, how he remembered constantly boasting about it to Micah too, long before he ran away from home.
He sat cross-legged on the carpet, his aether-coated sword resting above his palms. “What do you think?” he smiled back at his little brother who sat before him.
Micah touched the blunt end of the blade, voice just touch of a whisper. “You’re special, you know that?” he said. “But I’m not sure if it’s something I’d wish for anybody.”
Lucas frowned. Sometimes, when he looks at Micah, his brother gives him a certain look. Not envy. Not hate. Not even apathy. No… it was pity.
To be a Prime. It is a great responsibility. Or so, that’s what they were taught–– children who have unlocked and started to cultivate their soul cores at birth.
A Prime… follows the art of death.
“You want to change the world, right?” Micah said as he withdrew his hand from Lucas’ blade. “To give Mom and me that world without Ashens and bad people?”
Lucas smiled. “Yeah. I did say that.” Even if his brother was 3 years younger than him – it seemed like Micah’s more matured at times.
Micah yawned as he stood up, facing the direction of his bedroom, but not before sparing Lucas a final glance. “A change could be too late for us, but not this world,” he said, as if he had a premonition. “I believe in you.”
And yet…
I failed you, Lucas thought with a scoff.
He’s not worthy of it–– the power of a Prime. And he’s not worthy of that black mask he once more donned after picking it up from her mother’s palm. The symbol of his supposed duty.
Yet he was denied even a chance to mourn when sudden low guttural growls entered the boulevard from the west.
There were more of them. It seemed they were freshly turned, evident by the blood and bite wounds on their necks.
Bullets rained upon them. Those must have been from some of the civilians who chose to remain. They yelled at the others to keep running, while they buy them more some time.
Brave but fruitless.
Lucas glanced up and saw the shooters on the rooftops, who halted in horror when their bullets bounced off their targets – ineffective against the horde.
The body of an Ashen hardens when hit with high-speed projectiles like bullets, practically nullifying them. Ever heard of an oobleck? It’s something like that.
Their shots only enraged the Ashen more, but when hope was about to vanish, a cry resounded throughout. A war cry.
From out of the many alleys, were civilians who donned swords, charging forward to meet in melee the ever-increasing Ashens, led by a huge man… Brock.
Yeah. The same Brock.
While fighting, Brock asked the others to provide fire support with their bows, crossbows, and arrows.
Brock. He must have created a makeshift militia, Lucas thought. He came back for stragglers.
While they may not be the reinforcement Lucas expected, they looked pretty organized.
So while they may not be Awakened or Framers, they’re still effective against the Grade I Ashens.
But then, as if the horde of Ashens wasn’t already enough, he felt a disturbance in the aether.
Portals, he surmised with dread in his eyes. There are some unique Ashens that could open portals. The Summoners.
And it’s because of those damned Summoners that the city was so easily penetrated in the first place, leading to such a slow response. Looks like they haven’t found them yet, he thought.
He was right. About five portals appeared in the vicinity, releasing dozens of Ashens each.
There’s one more and Lucas widened his eyes as he witnessed the biggest Ashen portal he’d ever seen. It appeared before an apartment building, which immediately collapsed, followed by a deafening roar.
There loomed an Ashen as big as the three-storey building it smashed.
Hideous.
Its body was an amalgamation of human flesh and limbs – of distorted features writhing in horror and pain. It is those amalgamation of flesh that makes it so hard to kill, protecting its only vulnerability – the aether core deeply embedded within.
And the hundreds of eyes on its head, those that it consumed, looked in all directions, making it impossible to catch it by surprise.
Surprise… Gasps of surprise from the remaining civilians resonated throughout the chaotic street, voices of hopelessness in a chorus with Argus’ roar.
– “That’s… That’s Argus!”
– “What is it doing here?!”
– “It’s over!”
– “We need to run!”
Lucas shuddered in fear himself, still trying to find comfort in his mother’s cold hand. “Argus, the Herald of Doom,” he muttered. A Grade VI Ashen, or a Calamity-grade. One of the only 14 documented Grade VI Ashens in the world.
For 300 years, the appearance of Calamities spelled destruction and death. There were attempts to hunt them down and kill them. But they all ended up in failure, leading only to the countless loss of lives.
Not even Class V, or a Continental-class Awakened can ever dream of defeating a Calamity.
Only a group of Sovereigns (Class VI) – those who reached beyond the peak of the Path (beyond Level 100) – could ever hope to defeat them. But how many Sovereigns were there? Just nine.
So how would Lucas, who is only a level 37 Class II Awakened, even hope to kill the giant?
Argus advanced, stomping on those who ran for their lives. If there was some sort of relief, then it would be that Argus’ movement speed was slow. Very slow.
Someone dropped his bow and bumped into Lucas. “Y-you! You’re SPECTRA!” said the guy as he pointed at Lucas’ mask. “Do something about that!” he screamed before running away.
Yes. Run. For there is no hope.
But.
I’m SPECTRA, huh? Lucas thought as he cut in two a boulder of rock the giant suddenly threw. He couldn’t let his mother and brother be hit by that.
But that stranger was right. He’s a SPECTRA.
And as a SPECTRA, he needs to somehow take care of Argus, right? If he doesn’t, then the rest of the people here will die…, right?
And if he runs away, then could he really call himself a SPECTRA? No, he can’t… right?
Even so, no matter what I do, everyone here will die, Lucas thought, looking around him. They’re panicking again. Even the makeshift militia was slowly being overwhelmed, losing its order as each second ticked by. Because they’re not listening to Brock.
For them to live. Someone has to take the lead. Someone must create order out of disorder.
And to do that, Lucas thought as he stood up. He carried his mother and placed her beside the sleeping Micah. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
He then manipulated the aether, allowing them to flow to his vocal cords.
“I’m SPECTRA 37 of the Hummingbird Unit. All remaining combatants, clear out and guide those who you were able to rescue to the evacuation area,” he said before his voice burned with calm, cold rage. ”…I’ll keep that giant and all of the Ashen here occupied.”
Silence.
A seeming silence even amid the loudness of the battlefield. Lucas already expected that. After all, he sounded like a child–– he’s still a child. And who would listen to a child?
But all he did was to give that man the opportunity for the others to listen to him. The same man who tried to help the mother from earlier, and the same man who led the charge of the makeshift 100-man militia–– Brock the Leader, or so what Lucas called him in his thoughts.
And Brock thankfully understood Lucas’ intention; nodding before he yelled out loud to gather the attention of everyone. “I’m Major Brock Moore! If you all want a chance to survive, follow my lead!” Brock said as he clubbed the head of an Ashen who dared to interrupt him.
Lucas nodded at him in appreciation.
“Everyone, listen…–!” Brock started commanding the men and made things much more organized.
In response, a shattering, “YES, SIR!” echoed about.
Lucas sighed in relief. It was fortunate he trusted his gut.
Brock managed to make the civilians respond like soldiers, lighting the fire back in their eyes. It’s as if Brock have given them purpose and direction when they had none.
As that was going on, Lucas’ eyes trailed back to Argus; the giant slowly making its way to 55th Street.
Lucas briefly wondered how it knew where to go, or why the portal did not just appear at the evacuation area if it was the target in the first place.
Not that it matters, he thought. After all, what even makes sense anymore? “If you wish for blood. Then let it rain…,” he whispered before closing his eyes.
From his chest, the aether flowed within his veins. When he flashed his eyes open, his pupils turned from silver to red. “Awaken...”
[Aura Activated. Shield Activated.]
Status
Name: Lucas Hale
Shield (SH): 3700 (Enabled)
Level: 37
Force: (FR): 370
Age: 13 (DOB: 2/14/2334)
Basic Attack: +185 FR
Class: Sentinel II (Body)
Aether Essence (AE): 91/3700
Spell Control (SC) Level: 3.10
National Rank: 33,237 (of 70,000+)
Global Rank: 120,892 (of 400,000+)
Spells – 4/5
(Spell Damage = Force x Spell Power)
1. Aether Blade III (Common)
(Sentinel-exclusive)
SC Requirement: 1.10
Type: Active.
Effect: Form a blade of aether and strike forward in an arc.
Spell Power (SP): 3.5
Cooldown: 16 seconds.
(Starter Sentinel Spell.)
2. Aether Amplify (Common)
SC Requirement: 2.10
Type: Buff.
Effect: Increase your Force by 50% for a limited duration.
Duration: 5 seconds.
Cooldown: 30 seconds.
3. Aether Mist (Rare)
SC Requirement: 3.10
Type: Active.
Effect: Transforms into a mist. You are invulnerable and cannot cast a spell during the duration. When you cancel the spell during the duration, the cooldown becomes double.
Duration: 3 seconds.
Cooldown: 24 seconds.
4. Aether Blink (Rare)
(Sentinel-exclusive)
SC Requirement: 2.10
Type: Active.
Effect: Instantly blinks to a chosen location within 10 metres.
Cooldown: 24 seconds.
Aura(s)
Aether Aura II (Common)
Class Requirement: II
Description: Basic aura used by all Awakened. Cannot stack with other Auras.
Effect(s):
Enables Shield (SH)
+Basic Attack = (FR x 0.50)
+10% Force
Locked Aura
Spell Requirement: Class III
Description: Elemental Aspect not unlocked.
Unlock at Class III (Lv. 51)