The sky was a shattered mosaic, its broken edges glowing faintly with an eerie blue light. Wisps of ethereal mist curled through the cracks, drifting like forgotten memories of a world that had once been whole. Beams of multicolored light cascaded down in the distance, illuminating the ruined cityscape with an otherworldly glow. It would have been breathtaking—if it weren't a constant reminder that everything had gone straight to hell.
Ariz let out a slow breath, hands buried in the pockets of his tattered hoodie. He had grown used to this sight over the past two years, though it never stopped feeling like the universe had left Earth on 'hard mode' just to mess with everyone.
Skyfall.
Two years ago, the sky had decided it had had enough and just… shattered. Cracks spread like spiderwebs, gleaming with impossible colors, as if reality itself had glitched. People had stared up, awestruck, calling it a cosmic miracle, a divine revelation, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon. And for a glorious moment, humanity had collectively admired the sheer aesthetic of its impending doom.
Then the monsters came.
Creatures that had no business existing poured out of the light—hulking, grotesque, nightmarish things that looked like someone had mixed a horror artist's fever dream with a particularly aggressive taxidermy project. At first, they were weak, relying on sheer numbers to overrun cities. People fought back, hopeful.
Hope, as it turned out, had an expiration date.
Stronger, more intelligent creatures emerged. They were faster. Deadlier. And just to rub salt in the wound, some of them seemed to enjoy the carnage. Civilization collapsed like a badly balanced tower of cards. Governments fell. Cities were swallowed whole. Panic set in.
And then humanity did what it always did best—evolved.
People started Awakening. Out of nowhere, regular humans discovered they could shoot fire from their hands, move objects with a thought, or punch through concrete like it was wet paper. Scientists scrambled to explain it, but the general consensus boiled down to: "Well, that's weird, but at least it's useful."
This phenomenon was dubbed the Skyfall Awakening, because apparently, even during an apocalypse, people had time for branding. Most Awakened were young, between sixteen and twenty. The younger ones adapted faster, their abilities growing stronger. The world changed, adapting as it always did.
Nations crumbled, replaced by the Earth Union—a coalition of the strongest Awakened and the most influential factions. Guilds popped up, groups of Awakened banding together for survival, wealth, and, of course, bragging rights. They became the new rulers of this fractured world.
The creatures—now officially called Extraterrestrial Threats, or ETs (because, again, branding)—claimed entire regions, turning former cities into Forbidden Zones. The power hierarchy solidified. The Awakened were ranked from F to A. ETs followed the same system, their rank determined by how terrifyingly hard they were to kill.
And then there was Ariz.
Unlike the fortunate, the gifted, the ones who got to look cool in trench coats while blasting energy beams, Ariz was… normal. No Awakening. No supernatural abilities. Just an average guy with an unhealthy appreciation for beautiful women and a life that had been consistently disappointing since birth.
It wasn't like he hadn't tried. Every year, he waited, hoping for his Awakening. And every year, he remained disappointingly human. His classmates, once his friends, left him behind, soaring to new heights while he remained grounded in mediocrity. He was sent to Basic Academy—the school for the weak, the rejects, the ones who had no hope of ever mattering.
He had stopped caring. Stopped trying to fit in. If the world wanted to label him useless, fine. He'd embrace it. He became eccentric, withdrawn, and, let's be honest, a little unhinged. He indulged in fantasy, dreaming of power, of dominance, of a world where he wasn't just another forgettable face in the crowd.
But dreams were just that—dreams.
Until today.
Until her.
Until something inside him finally woke up.
For the first time in years, he felt it—a shift, a spark of something vast and unknown unfurling within him. He didn't care if it was a fluke, a delusion, or some cruel cosmic joke. None of it mattered. Because as he stood under that fractured sky, for the first time in his life, Ariz felt like he had a chance.
And then—
"Ahem."
The voice was soft, almost melodic, but laced with a very distinct kind of mockery. The kind that made his stomach twist with immediate regret.
"You reek."
Ariz blinked, his dramatic moment thoroughly ruined. "What?"
"You heard me." The voice sighed. "You smell like a corpse that lost a bet with a landfill. Did you even notice the filth oozing out of you during your Awakening? Or were you too busy monologuing about your 'rise to power'?"
Ariz opened his mouth to protest, but then he caught a whiff of himself. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "Oh, hell no—what is that?!"
His clothes were stained with a dark, viscous residue, his skin clammy, and the smell—oh, the smell—was the olfactory equivalent of betrayal. Like something had crawled into a sewage pipe and given up on life.
"Is this… me?" he muttered, horrified.
"Yes, darling," the voice replied with an exaggerated sigh. "Congratulations! This delightful stench is your Awakening's 'cleansing' process. Think of it as all the weakness being purged from your body. And also, think of a shower. Immediately."
Ariz groaned, rubbing his temples. "Great. Just great. I finally get powers, and instead of looking badass, I look like a sewer exploded on me."
"Life's unfair," the voice said cheerfully. "Now stop whining and get moving before someone calls pest control."
With a grumble, Ariz turned toward home, muttering under his breath. The streets were mostly empty, the occasional flickering streetlamp casting long, eerie shadows. He kept his head down, partly to avoid attention and partly because, frankly, he was too embarrassed to make eye contact with civilization right now.
"This is humiliating," he muttered. "I finally get powers, and I look like I lost a fight with a dumpster."
"Oh, stop being dramatic," the voice teased. "Think of it as your origin story. Every great hero has one! Yours just happens to involve soap. Lots and lots of soap."
Ariz rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smirk tugging at his lips. For the first time in a long time, he felt something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.
Hope.
The days of his rise were nigh.
But first, a shower.