The bluish light from the television danced across Sunamy's face as he leaned forward, eyes fixed on the screen. The evening news was once again showing the aftermath of an Ultran attack—smoking rubble where a busy market once stood, cars overturned like broken toys, and the inevitable trail of destruction these beings left wherever they went.
"Three dead and fifteen injured in yesterday afternoon's attack," the reporter announced in a grave voice. "Authorities confirmed that two heroes managed to repel the creature before the damage could worsen, but..."
Nélia huffed from the couch beside him, absently scrolling through her phone. "I don't know how you can watch this stuff all the time, Sunamy. It's depressing."
Sunamy didn't take his eyes off the screen, where grainy cell phone footage of the fight was now playing. The quality was terrible—whoever had filmed it was clearly running away—but it was still possible to see the silhouettes of combatants moving at superhuman speeds through the debris.
"It's fascinating," he murmured, studying every movement. "Look at the technique of that hero in the blue uniform. He uses ranged attacks to keep the Ultran occupied while the woman in red positions herself for the final blow."
"Fascinating?" Nélia stared at him with a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Sunamy, people died. This isn't an action movie."
He finally turned to her, dark hair falling over his eyes. At twenty-two years old, Sunamy had an appearance that could be described as ordinary—average height, slim build, with no distinguishing features that would make him stand out in a crowd. But there was an intensity in his gaze that sometimes made Nélia uncomfortable, especially when the subject was battles between heroes and Ultran.
"I know it's not a movie," he said, turning his attention back to the TV. "That's exactly why it's so incredible. It's real. These people have actual powers, face creatures that shouldn't exist, and do it every day to protect us."
Nélia sighed, putting her phone in her bag. She had known Sunamy for three years, since moving into the apartment next door, and still didn't fully understand his obsession. She was a twenty-one-year-old business administration student, pragmatic and down-to-earth—the complete opposite of her reclusive neighbor.
"Have you ever thought about doing something else in your free time?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light. "I don't know, a normal hobby? Soccer? Video games? Anything that doesn't involve watching people get hurt?"
"This is my hobby," Sunamy replied with a half-smile. "And besides, you're here watching with me."
"I'm here because you make the best popcorn in the neighborhood and have a bigger TV than mine," she retorted, but there was affection in her voice. The truth was she worried about him. Sunamy had been living alone in that apartment since he was eighteen—she never knew exactly what happened to his family—and sometimes went days without leaving the house, sustained by remote programming work that allowed him to maintain this isolated lifestyle.
The report switched to another subject, and Sunamy grabbed the remote, changing to an online news channel that specifically covered Ultran attacks. It was one of five or six specialized channels he had memorized, all dedicated to documenting and analyzing each confrontation.
"Look at this," he said, pointing at the screen. "This attack from three days ago at the mall. Notice how the Ultran changes tactics when it realizes the heroes are working together. It stops attacking directly and starts using the environment to its advantage."
Nélia watched the images with reluctant attention. The Ultran in the recording was typical of the species—humanoid, but clearly not human. Its skin had a grayish tone that suggested stone or metal, curved horns emerged from its forehead, and even through the unstable camera, it was possible to see the supernatural strength with which it shattered concrete pillars as if they were dry twigs.
"Why do you think they attack?" she asked suddenly.
Sunamy paused the video and turned to her, surprised. It was rare for Nélia to show genuine interest in the battles.
"Experts have theories," he said. "Some think they're testing our defenses. Others believe they're looking for something specific. There are even those who say each attack follows a geographic pattern, as if they're mapping territory."
"And you? What do you think?"
Sunamy was quiet for a moment, considering the question. "I think they're looking for something. They always attack different places, but there's an... intensity in the way they fight. Like each battle is urgent for them."
Nélia nodded thoughtfully. "It's scary to think that such powerful creatures have goals we don't even understand."
"That's why it's so important to study them," Sunamy said, becoming animated again. "Every video, every report, every testimony could have a clue about what they really want."
She watched him speak, noticing how his eyes lit up when discussing the subject. There was passion there, but also something that worried her—an obsession that sometimes seemed to cross the boundaries of healthy curiosity.
Sunamy's phone vibrated on the coffee table. He picked it up absently, expecting to see some irrelevant notification, but the screen showed a breaking news alert. His eyes widened as he read the headline.
"ALERT: Ultran Attack in Progress - Central Train Station - Two Heroes on Site"
His heart raced. The Central Station was only fifteen minutes from home, and given the time, there would still be a lot of activity. More importantly, two heroes meant it would be an intense battle—the kind of confrontation that Ultran normally avoided unless it was something really important.
"Hey, are you okay?" Nélia asked, noticing how he stiffened. "What is it?"
Sunamy quickly locked the screen, feigning disinterest. "Nothing important. Just spam."
But his mind was already racing. Two options formed instantly: stay there watching third-party recordings later, or...
"You know what," he said, getting up from the couch with an apparently casual movement, "we're out of popcorn. I'm going to the corner store to buy more. Do you want anything?"
Nélia frowned. "Are you sure? I think there's still a package in the kitchen."
"No, no," he insisted, already grabbing his jacket. "I just checked, we're out. I'll be back in twenty minutes, tops."
She studied him for a moment, her expression skeptical. There was something different about his behavior—a poorly disguised urgency that didn't match a simple trip to the store.
"Sunamy..."
"Be right back!" he shouted from the door, leaving before she could protest.
Nélia was left alone in the living room, looking at the TV that still showed images of destruction. An uncomfortable premonition settled in her chest. She knew Sunamy well enough to know when he was hiding something, and the rush with which he had left had nothing to do with popcorn.
Meanwhile, Sunamy ran through the streets like a man possessed. The city center was in the opposite direction from the store he claimed as his destination, but that was the least of his problems. His mind was entirely focused on what might be happening at the station at that exact moment.
Fifteen minutes later, he could hear the sounds of battle before even seeing the station. Screams, muffled explosions, the grinding of metal being torn. A crowd gathered at what they judged to be a safe distance—at least two hundred people with cell phones raised, filming the chaos from afar.
But Sunamy didn't stop with the crowd. He kept running, pushing through people fleeing in the opposite direction, ignoring shouts of "Are you crazy?" and "Come back here, kid!"
The closer he got, the clearer the sounds of destruction became. Concrete cracked under the impact of something immensely powerful. Glass shattered in musical cascades. And beneath it all, the inhuman roar of a creature that didn't belong to this world.
Sunamy turned the final corner and finally saw the station.
The main building was partially destroyed. The glass facade had exploded outward, covering the front plaza with a constellation of shards that reflected the city lights. One of the support pillars had collapsed, creating an improvised ramp of rubble leading into the station's interior.
And at the center of all that destruction, the battle was still happening.
Sunamy crouched behind an abandoned car, his heart beating so hard he was sure it could be heard even amid the noise of the fight. From there, he had a privileged view of the station's interior through what remained of the walls.
Two heroes faced a single Ultran, and even outnumbered, the creature seemed to be winning.
The first hero had red hair and wore a uniform that appeared to be made of some advanced technological material. His fists glowed with a bluish energy, and each punch he landed on the Ultran created small explosions of light. But he was clearly exhausted—his movements had lost their initial precision, and a dark stain of blood spread across the side of his uniform.
The second hero was a man with black hair, wearing more traditional armor reminiscent of medieval knights, but made of a metal that reflected light in an almost supernatural way. In his hands, he wielded a sword that seemed made of the same substance as the armor, and when he swung it, it left luminous trails in the air.
The Ultran they faced was larger than any Sunamy had seen in videos. It must have been almost three meters tall, with horns that curved back like a diabolic crown. Its skin wasn't just grayish, but had red veins that pulsed like lava running through volcanic rocks. The claws on its hands were long enough to pierce a man from side to side.
Sunamy watched, hypnotized, as the battle unfolded before him. The red-haired hero attempted a coordinated attack with his partner—a maneuver they had probably practiced hundreds of times. But the Ultran moved with a speed that defied its mass, dodging the first strike and counterattacking with a force that sent the hero flying against one of the few walls still intact.
The red-haired man slid across the concrete, leaving a trail of blood. He tried to get up, but his arms trembled with the effort, and his breathing came in irregular gasps.
The black-haired hero roared in rage and charged at the Ultran with everything he had. The sword sang through the air in a series of movements that looked more like dance than combat. For a moment, Sunamy thought he would succeed—the luminous blade left three deep cuts on the creature's torso, and a dark liquid that must have been Ultran blood began to drip.
But the Ultran merely smiled—a terrible expression on a face not made to display human joy—and grabbed the sword with its own hands, ignoring the fact that it was cutting its fingers to the bone.
With a brutal movement, it tore the weapon from the hero's hands and broke it into two pieces as if it were a dry twig.
The black-haired hero stepped back in shock, looking at the fragments of his weapon. The Ultran wasted no time—a swipe of its claws sent the man to the ground, where he fell heavily and remained still, only his irregular breathing indicating he was still alive.
Sunamy held his breath. In less than five minutes, two heroes—people with powers he had spent years admiring—had been completely defeated by a single creature.
That's when he saw it.
Something small and bright had rolled from the black-haired hero's hand when he fell. A stone the size of a closed fist, pulsing with an intense red light. Even from a distance, Sunamy could feel that there was something different about that stone—an energy that made the air around it vibrate in an almost perceptible way.
The stone rolled down the inclined platform of the destroyed station, gaining speed until it stopped right in front of the car where Sunamy was hiding.
One of the Trias of Equilibrium.
Sunamy knew what it was even before fully processing the thought. Years of watching battles, reading reports, studying every detail of the war between heroes and Ultran had given him encyclopedic knowledge about all aspects of the conflict. And at the center of everything, always, were the legendary Trias—the stones that maintained the balance between worlds.
He had never seen one in person. He didn't know if any civilian had ever even gotten close to one. They were guarded by the most powerful heroes, protected by millennial secrets, the most coveted prize by the Ultran.
And now one was there, less than two meters from him, pulsing with a light that seemed synchronized with his heartbeat.
The Ultran slowly turned, its red eyes like embers fixing on the stone. A terrible smile spread across its face when it realized where it had stopped.
Sunamy didn't think. Didn't calculate risks or consider consequences. He simply moved.
In an impulse that came from somewhere deeper than logic, he came out from behind the car, ran the few meters separating him from the stone, and crouched down to pick it up.
The moment his fingers touched the Tria's surface, a wave of energy ran through his body. It wasn't pain—it was more like every cell of his being suddenly remembered something it had forgotten long ago. The stone was hot, almost feverish, and the pulse of red light accelerated when he held it.
The Ultran stopped walking and stared at him with an expression of genuine surprise. Clearly, it didn't expect a common human to appear and grab the stone right under its nose.
The creature took a few steps toward Sunamy, each movement making the ground tremble slightly. When it spoke, its voice was like stones being ground.
"Human," the Ultran said, the word sounding like a curse. "If you don't want to die, drop that now."
Sunamy slowly stood up, the Tria pulsing in his hand like a miniature heart. He should have been terrified. Any normal person would be. A creature that had just defeated two heroes alone was a few meters away, clearly willing to kill him to recover the stone.
But instead of fear, Sunamy felt something completely different. Perhaps it was the adrenaline of finally being at the center of a real battle, and not just watching from afar. Perhaps it was the Tria's energy coursing through his veins. Or perhaps it was simply the personality he had kept hidden during years of isolation finally manifesting.
A slow smile spread across his face as he stared at the three-meter-tall Ultran without blinking.
"You're bold, aren't you," he said, his voice echoing through the destroyed station.