Female voices echoed through the absolute darkness, as if they existed only in the void itself.
"Th–that's your final move?" one of them asked, incredulity spilling from her words.
"It's all I need," the other replied with razor-sharp calm.
The silence that followed seemed to swallow their conversation, dissolving it into the vast nothingness.
Marcelo woke, choking on dust and the weight of something pinning him down. The smell of earth and crushed stone filled his senses, making every breath a struggle. All around was chaos—jagged shadows, piles of rubble, distant screams mingling with the crash of collapsing structures and the thunder of a colossal creature moving far away.
He tried to push himself up, but his muscles rebelled. Pain throbbed through his joints, and for a moment he had no idea where—or why—he was there. His racing heart couldn't keep pace with his muddled thoughts. He blinked repeatedly, as though that alone could bring meaning to the scene unfolding around him. It couldn't.
With effort he moved an arm, feeling shards of stone slide across his skin. Swallowing back panic, he began to crawl, dragging himself out of the wreckage. His body shook with every motion. The air was thick with dust, making it hard to see more than a few yards, but he knew he had to escape.
Chest heaving and muscles burning, Marcelo kept crawling, each sharp stone slicing his skin. The ground trembled beneath him, as if the earth itself were protesting the advance of the colossal beast. Something heavy crashed down, sending up a fresh cloud of dust that stung his eyes.
He swallowed hard, fighting to stay lucid. Every fiber in his body cried out for rest, but the threat demanded he press on. He groped for something solid and felt splintered wood—part of what had once been a building. Forcing himself upright, his knees wobbled under his own weight.
Another wave of screams split the air. It wasn't just destruction—people were still here, running, trying to survive.
Far off, the beast's trail still pulsed on the horizon. Even at a distance the colossal monster was impossible to ignore—its silhouette etched against the turbulent sky, vast and imposing, as though the world itself had bowed to its existence.
Fragmented firelight danced across its scaly hide, revealing an almost ethereal sheen that contrasted the chaos around it. Its lizard-like body moved with such grandeur that each step seemed to resonate through the ground. Four massive arms stretched at its sides, casting enormous shadows over the devastated land.
The eyes—four blazing orbs set in its face—burned like stars nailed into flesh, so intense that even at this vast distance their glare refused to dim. Reality itself seemed to warp in that light, as though less real beside its presence.
The smoke-choked sky tore open with sudden light. Like an inverted comet, a brilliant streak plummeted, carving a shining path through the murky firmament. Its arrival was heralded by a muffled boom—a force cutting through the air with resolve that did not belong to this chaos, but had chosen to intervene.
Impact was immediate. The giant beast flinched when struck, its starry eyes fluttering. The brilliance began to move, pulsing and dancing around the titan like a living blade, delivering rapid, precise blows to its scaly hide.
But nothing happened.
Each strike vanished against the monster's vast bulk, sparks dying on an impenetrable wall. The creature didn't even step back. Its gaze—cold, indifferent—watched the assault as though it were nothing more than a fleeting annoyance.
With a near-dismissive motion, the beast swung one arm. A single blow swept the radiance from the sky like an insect swatted aside. The light stumbled, flickering, its presence suddenly fragile before the monster's absolute power.
The sky split again. One beam, then two, then many—shafts of brilliance rained down, each bearing fierce determination. They slashed at the behemoth like incandescent blades, circling its hulking frame and striking relentlessly.
Nothing changed.
The blows struck its scales and vanished, sparks dying on an invincible wall. The creature felt no fear, offered no retreat—merely endured, as if mildly irritated.
For a heartbeat the monster slowed, perhaps finally bothered. The glow in its eyes surged, pulsing like furious suns. Its head lifted slightly, and a deep sound reverberated from within—not a roar, but something more primitive.
Then its mouth opened, unleashing a titanic sphere of energy. Space itself distorted around the projectile, shockwaves scouring debris and dust.
The celestial lights never stood a chance.
At the sphere's touch their glow winked out, consumed in an instant by overwhelming force. Like stars snuffed in a void, they vanished, leaving only the mute echo of failed resistance.
The sky that moments before had pulsed with their light was now silent.
The monster moved on. Its march continued as though nothing had occurred.
Marcelo remained frozen, eyes locked on the emptiness that the devastating blast had carved into the heavens. The creature's absolute power, the effortless annihilation of those lights—none of it made sense. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, the weight of the scene crushing his ability to react.
A rough voice sliced through the moment.
"Holy shit…" It came from nearby, thick with disbelief and frustration. "Those were first-line Guardian summons!"
Marcelo blinked, still unmoving. A man stepped across the rubble, clad in a dark uniform that stood out against the dust. A mask covered part of his face.
"Why'd they try something so insane?!" the man ranted, gesturing wildly. "Were they suicidal or just stupid?!"
The tirade finally dragged Marcelo back from his stupor. He tore his gaze from the sky.
"Hey," the stranger addressed him directly now, voice steadier.
Marcelo blinked again, mind still struggling to process.
The man sighed shortly, clearly no stranger to shell-shocked survivors.
"Look, we don't have time." He tapped his chest where a military insignia gleamed beneath grime. "Sergeant Kurtis. Straight to the point: I need every hand I can get to haul the wounded out."
Marcelo still fought for breath, but forced himself to meet the uniformed man's eyes.
"You're not in kit, so you're no soldier. Researcher?" Kurtis guessed, scanning him. "Assistant?"
For an instant Marcelo hesitated—not because he lacked the answer, but because his mind felt severed from things he should recall instinctively.
"I…" His voice came out weak, as if it didn't belong to him.
Kurtis didn't wait.
"Whatever you are doesn't matter now. If you can walk, you can carry somebody."
Marcelo felt the full weight of reality finally land on his shoulders. He could keep trying to figure out what the hell was going on—or he could just move.
So he drew a long breath.
The chaos around him still felt unreal, but Marcelo shoved his hesitation aside and moved. Each step was uncertain, his muscles still protesting, yet he followed Kurtis to an area where soldiers and civilians fought to carry the wounded.
Makeshift tents—little more than tarps stretched over flimsy frames—had been thrown up in a hurry, the only refuge left for those who had survived the attack. The air reeked of blood, dust, and pain, while groans and frantic voices filled the space.
Without waiting for orders, Marcelo knelt beside a fallen man. The victim's face was pale, smeared with dirt and sweat, his breathing ragged. He tried to speak, but only a faint murmur slipped from his lips.
"Take the shoulders," Kurtis snapped, already lifting the man's legs.
Marcelo obeyed, ignoring his strained muscles as he hoisted the frail body. Together they headed for the tents, passing others doing the same—an improvised chain of survival amid the devastation.
Each time one body went in, another appeared.
In the rush, Kurtis stepped aside for a moment, raising one hand with purpose. His expression tightened as if gathering something invisible around him. Then, without warning, a bright flare formed before him.
Marcelo blinked, puzzled. The light swelled, pulsing like a living flame until it shaped itself— a creature emerged beside the sergeant, materializing as though summoned from another world.
It was a fearsome beast, a four-legged predator with gleaming fangs and eyes like molten gold, its hide traced with runic patterns that flickered with power.
Marcelo froze.
The beast loosed a low growl, and without hesitation Kurtis pointed at the wreckage.
"Help carry!" he ordered, his voice steady, utterly certain.
The monster moved at once, claws gliding with precision as it began lifting victims with a gentleness uncanny for something its size.
While Kurtis's summon kept working—clearing debris, moving the injured—Marcelo struggled to process what he had just seen, mind caught between logic and disbelief.
Kurtis, already organizing the next rescues, glanced back, frowning at Marcelo's expression.
"What's your rank?" he asked bluntly.
Marcelo blinked, baffled. Rank? For a heartbeat his mind went blank. He tried to fetch a memory, but only a whirl of disjointed sensations came.
"I… I don't know," he said, voice hesitant, thick with uncertainty.
Kurtis narrowed his eyes, studying him for a few seconds. Then he let out a short sigh and motioned Marcelo toward a quieter corner.
"That's not normal," he said, arms folding. "If you're here, you've got a rank. And if you've got a rank, you can summon. Unless…"
He paused, gaze sharpening.
"Did you hit your head?"
Marcelo blinked, surprised by the question—and for the first time realized his mind felt slower, foggier than it should, as if something had been ripped away without his noticing.
Kurtis watched him a moment before exhaling.
"Fine. If you don't remember, I'll show you."
He lifted one hand, fingers spreading as if holding something unseen. Marcelo frowned—until he noticed the air around Kurtis's palm vibrating, tiny motes of light and energy condensing between his fingers like sparks dancing in space.
"Summoning starts here," the sergeant explained, his voice firm yet patient. "Focus. Pull the energy around you and mold it in your hand."
Marcelo stared, fascinated, as the light around Kurtis's fingers swelled into a small floating circle. With a smooth motion the sergeant expanded the energy, and the space before him warped—the virtual gate of summoning opened like a rift, pulsing with power.
"Your turn." Kurtis lowered his hand and pointed at Marcelo. "Just do it. Your body already knows how."
Marcelo hesitated, but something deep inside stirred—not a learned command but an ancient instinct awakening. He raised his hand, inhaled, and effortlessly felt energy gather at his fingertips.
Light flared.
Space folded before him, and without thinking, he opened the gate.
Naturally. As if he had done it a thousand times.
The summoning glow throbbed in the air, expanding until, with an electric snap, the creature finally emerged.
A surge of anticipation rushed through him. His heart pounded. His very first summoned monster!
Then the creature materialized.
The glow vanished, leaving a single brick to drop solemnly onto the ground, kicking up a puff of dust.
Kurtis stayed silent for a long moment. A very long moment. Just staring at the brick, as though waiting for something else to happen. Nothing did.
Finally he sighed, folded his arms, and looked at Marcelo with pure disbelief.
"…You've got to be kidding me."