The Beginning of Nyx
The disaster came without warning. No alarms sounded, no governments prepared, and no scientists had time to respond. High above Earth, space folded in on itself and formed a silent distortion. From its center, a massive asteroid emerged, expelled from a wormhole at an impossible angle.
By the time Earth's detection systems registered the anomaly, it was already too close. The asteroid entered the atmosphere without burning or slowing. Its surface fractured midair, releasing clouds of invisible particles that spread across the sky. Satellites failed in seconds. Communication networks collapsed. The sky briefly shimmered, then returned to normal as the asteroid disintegrated, its purpose already fulfilled.
Within hours, life across the planet began to change. Animals were the first to be affected. Bodies twisted, bones expanded, and instincts collapsed into pure aggression. Infected creatures attacked relentlessly, driven by an alien force that rewrote their biology. Humanity did not yet understand what it was facing.
The phenomenon was eventually named CIX. It did not behave like any known virus. It ignored biological laws and forced evolution through destruction. Entire ecosystems collapsed within days, followed by the rapid fall of cities. Conventional weapons provided only temporary resistance as infected creatures adapted with terrifying speed.
As the situation worsened, humanity retreated behind massive walls. Base cities were constructed using the last remaining resources, becoming the final shelters for civilization. Billions died during the evacuation and collapse. History would later name this era the Period of Nyx, the age when darkness consumed the world.
Yet humanity did not go extinct. Under constant pressure, something within the human race awakened. A small number of survivors began to exceed natural limits. Their bodies adapted to the alien energy left behind by CIX. Strength increased, reflexes sharpened, and perception evolved beyond ordinary human capability.
From this awakening, new forms of martial combat emerged. Ancient disciplines were refined, and entirely new systems of battle were created. Warriors capable of standing against monsters were born. These individuals would come to be known as War Lords, not as gods or saviors, but as humans who refused to surrender.
Years later, the world remained broken. Beyond the walls, monsters ruled the land. Within the base cities, survival was a daily struggle shaped by power, scarcity, and fear. The legacy of CIX endured, waiting silently for the next chapter of human resistance to begin.
By the year 2031, humanity faced a new crisis, one born not from monsters, but from itself. As more warriors awakened and advanced through the stages of power, governments around the world struggled to maintain control. Laws written for ordinary people no longer applied to individuals capable of leveling buildings or repelling monster hordes alone. Military oversight weakened, and national command structures fractured under the pressure.
Warriors were no longer rare anomalies. They had become a rapidly growing population, each with different loyalties, beliefs, and ambitions. Some fought to protect cities. Others sought status, wealth, or dominance. Conflicts between warriors increased, and clashes between nations began to involve individual fighters rather than armies. The balance of power that once defined the world no longer existed.
It was during this unstable period that two figures rose above all others.
Trevor Anderson and Bakari Malik were already legends by the time the world truly began to fear its own defenders. Both had survived countless battles beyond the walls. Both had faced catastrophic level monsters and emerged victorious. Their power was unquestioned, their reputations absolute. More importantly, neither sought to rule through force alone.
Recognizing that unchecked power would lead to civil collapse, Trevor and Bakari stepped forward as mediators rather than conquerors. They proposed a unified system, one that would regulate warriors without stripping them of autonomy, while protecting ordinary civilians from becoming collateral damage in power struggles they could not survive.
Thus, the Warriors Federation was founded.
The Federation was not a nation, nor a military force bound by borders. It was an independent global authority, created to oversee warrior conduct, resolve disputes, and coordinate large scale defense against monster threats. Membership was mandatory for all registered warriors above a certain power level, and refusal often resulted in exile from protected cities.
To prevent any single country from dominating the organization, a ruling council was established. It consisted of 394 Regents, with two representatives from every recognized nation on Earth. These Regents handled policy, resource allocation, and diplomatic matters between cities, governments, and warrior factions.
At the head of the Federation stood Trevor Anderson and Bakari Malik.
They served as Co-Chancellors, sharing equal authority and acting as the final arbiters in matters involving warriors and civilians alike. When disputes escalated beyond negotiation, their word was absolute. When cities faced extinction level threats, they commanded joint operations that spanned continents.
Despite their authority, neither man ruled openly as a tyrant. They appeared rarely, intervening only when necessary. Their presence alone was often enough to halt conflicts. Monsters retreated. Warriors fell silent. Governments listened.
This was because Trevor Anderson and Bakari Malik held a distinction no other human shared.
They were the only Superior War Lords on Earth.
Their power stood at the absolute peak of human evolution. Conventional weapons were meaningless against them. Entire battlefields bent under their presence. Yet both understood the danger of their own existence. A world ruled by Superior War Lords would not survive.
The Federation became humanity's fragile compromise.
A thin line between order and chaos.
A system built on trust in two men strong enough to break the world, yet disciplined enough not to.
And as history would later prove, this balance would not last forever.
In its early years, the Warriors Federation brought a fragile sense of stability to the world. Large scale conflicts decreased, monster incursions were coordinated across regions, and communication between cities improved. Yet beneath the surface, cracks quietly began to form. The Federation's authority relied heavily on trust, reputation, and the personal restraint of its leaders. Laws existed, but enforcement was uneven, and oversight remained deliberately loose.
Trevor Anderson and Bakari Malik believed that warriors should not be ruled like weapons. Their governing philosophy emphasized autonomy and moral responsibility. While this approach prevented immediate rebellion, it also created opportunity. Regents accumulated influence. High ranking warriors exploited loopholes. Some began treating protected cities as personal territories, demanding tribute, favors, or loyalty in exchange for defense.
Abuse spread slowly at first, then all at once.
Conflicts between warrior factions escalated into open battles. Entire districts were leveled during disputes that had nothing to do with monsters. Ordinary civilians suffered as collateral damage, and public trust in the Federation eroded. Governments accused the Federation of protecting its own while failing to restrain them. Warriors accused civilians of fear and weakness. The balance Trevor and Bakari had built began to tilt toward collapse.
By the late 2030s, what historians would later call the First Warrior War had begun.
The war did not start with armies, but with individuals. High level warriors clashed across borders, dragging cities into conflicts they could not control. Federation Regents argued endlessly, divided by politics and personal alliances. Trevor remained distant, issuing directives but refusing to rule through force. Bakari withdrew entirely, entering seclusion and vanishing from public life.
Then, in 2040, a new figure emerged.
His name was Javi.
Javi rose at an unprecedented speed, breaking through the final threshold and becoming the third Superior War Lord in human history. Unlike Trevor and Bakari, Javi did not see power as a responsibility. He saw it as entitlement. Declaring himself above Federation authority, he seized multiple Warrior Base Cities and openly challenged the Regents.
The war intensified overnight.
Javi's presence alone destabilized entire regions. Warrior factions aligned with him out of fear or ambition. Cities surrendered without resistance. The Federation stood paralyzed, unable to agree on a response, while Trevor remained silent and Bakari was presumed absent.
Until Bakari returned.
Without warning, Bakari Malik emerged from seclusion and confronted Javi directly. The battle lasted less than an hour. Witnesses described the clash as catastrophic, reshaping the landscape and erasing everything within kilometers. When it ended, Javi no longer existed. No body was recovered. No trace of his power remained.
The war ended the same day.
Bakari did not pursue Javi's followers. He did not make speeches or issue decrees. His message was simple and unmistakable. Superior War Lords were not kings, and power without restraint would be erased.
In the aftermath, the Federation survived, but it was forever changed.
By 2045, Trevor Anderson enacted the most controversial mandate in Federation history. Under his authority, all individuals with even the slightest enhancement were required to register. Those above a designated power threshold were no longer permitted to reside in Held Cities. Instead, they were relocated to newly established Warrior Base Cities, separate from civilian populations.
The decision divided the world.
Some called it necessary. Others called it segregation. Warriors resented the loss of normal lives. Civilians feared what it meant to be protected by those kept at a distance.
What none could deny was this.
The age of trust had ended.
And the Federation was no longer merely a safeguard.
It had become a system of control.
The backlash against the decree was immediate. Protests erupted in multiple Held Cities as enhanced individuals questioned the Federation's right to separate warriors from civilian life. Some warriors refused to register. Others threatened secession from Federation authority. Governments demanded clarification, and for the first time since the war, Bakari Malik was seen in public.
When asked directly about the decree, Bakari offered no attempt at reassurance or apology. His response was brief and unyielding. "You are free to refuse it, but you must be ready to face the consequences. You were given freedom and abused it." The statement spread across the world within hours. To some, it confirmed their fears of authoritarian control. To others, it was the first honest acknowledgment of the damage unchecked power had caused.
Despite the outrage, resistance faded quickly. The memory of Javi's erasure remained vivid, and few were willing to test the limits of the Federation's resolve. Registration rates rose. Warrior migration to Base Cities accelerated. Civilian casualties caused by warrior disputes dropped sharply for the first time in years.
Recognizing that force alone could not sustain legitimacy, the Federation introduced structural reforms. One of the most significant changes was a revision of the Regent system. Each country was now permitted to elect a single Regent through its own political process. That Regent would appoint a running mate, who would serve as the second representative. This reform reduced political deadlock, increased accountability, and gave ordinary citizens a voice in Federation governance.
The response was overwhelmingly positive. Public trust began to recover as Regents were no longer viewed solely as elite warrior representatives. Media coverage shifted in tone. Governments reengaged diplomatically. For the first time since the First Warrior War, the Federation appeared capable of reform.
Alongside political changes, the Federation addressed the uncontrolled growth of warrior power at its source. The creation of Warrior Academies was authorized and regulated. These institutions trained awakened individuals from an early stage, teaching discipline, ethics, and combat control alongside power development. Advancement without certification became illegal in most regions.
The academies quickly became symbols of opportunity and structure. For civilians, they offered safety and predictability. For warriors, they provided a legitimate path to growth without exile or suspicion. Recruitment stabilized. Rogue awakenings declined. Power, at last, had boundaries.
Trevor Anderson and Bakari Malik also took a more visible role in reshaping warrior culture. Rather than ruling solely through decrees, they founded separate global warrior clubs under Federation oversight. These organizations encouraged competition without bloodshed, creating structured rivalries that redirected ambition away from domination and toward mastery.
From these rivalries emerged a new global event.
The Warlord Olympics were established as a regulated tournament series, showcasing controlled combat, team coordination, and strategic ability rather than raw destruction. Events were broadcast worldwide. Victories brought prestige, not territory. Losses brought growth, not annihilation.
For the first time since the arrival of CIX, warriors were celebrated not as threats, but as athletes and defenders.
The Federation's image continued to recover. Cities rebuilt. Monster incursions were met with organized response rather than chaos. A fragile balance returned to the world, one built on law, spectacle, and carefully contained power.
Yet beneath the surface, old questions lingered.
Whether control could truly replace trust.
Whether separation would breed resentment.
And whether a system built around two Superior War Lords could endure once they were gone.
History had stabilized, but it had not settled.
The next age was already forming.
By 2053, the universe itself became unstable.
Wormholes began appearing across the cosmos with increasing frequency, tearing open space without warning. Some collapsed within seconds. Others remained long enough to disgorge matter, energy, and phenomena never before recorded. Astronomical observation stations were overwhelmed, unable to track or predict the distortions. Humanity quickly realized that the arrival of CIX had not been an isolated event, but the opening act of something far larger.
Asteroids followed.
Not the slow, predictable bodies once charted by pre Nyx science, but warped masses expelled violently from wormholes. Some carried exotic minerals and unknown energy sources. Others brought devastation. Impacts became a near daily occurrence across the planet, striking oceans, wastelands, and monster controlled territories with equal disregard. Even the strongest walls could not protect against what fell from the sky.
Each impact reshaped the battlefield.
New monsters emerged from crater zones, twisted by unfamiliar energies layered atop CIX. Some adapted instantly to warrior tactics. Others emitted radiation or spatial distortions that rendered close combat impossible. Fighting monsters was no longer a matter of strength alone, but of survival against environments that defied reason.
Rebuilding cities became increasingly difficult.
Construction zones were destroyed before completion. Supply lines were disrupted by sudden impacts. Entire regions were declared uninhabitable due to persistent spatial instability. Some Held Cities were abandoned altogether, their populations relocated deeper inland or absorbed by larger city complexes. Humanity's map of the world changed constantly, redrawn by forces beyond its control.
Yet the chaos also brought opportunity.
Certain asteroids contained rare materials that enhanced weapons, armor, and energy conduits. Others carried dormant power sources capable of accelerating warrior growth. The Federation classified these sites as high risk resource zones, dispatching elite teams to secure them. Control over asteroid resources quickly became as important as defending cities.
As threats escalated, so did the need to understand the limits of human power.
For the first time, Trevor Anderson and Bakari Malik allowed their full output to be measured under controlled conditions. The results stunned every scientific body involved. Their maximum recorded power output was estimated at 1.5 solar masses, a figure previously reserved for stellar phenomena, not living beings.
The data was sealed immediately.
Only the highest levels of the Federation were permitted access. Publicly, the figures were dismissed as theoretical extrapolation. Privately, the implications were terrifying. Two individuals possessed energy densities capable of altering planetary scale events, yet both continued to restrain themselves almost completely.
The question was no longer whether humanity could survive monsters and the stars.
It was whether it could survive itself.
In just over thirty two years, the world had transformed beyond recognition. Nations had faded. New cities had risen. Power had replaced population as the defining measure of influence. Monsters ruled vast territories. Warriors shaped the fate of continents. The sky itself had become a source of fear.
And still, the changes continued.
Wormholes multiplied. Asteroids fell faster. New threats gathered beyond human observation. The Federation adapted, restructured, and endured, but even its leaders understood a simple truth.
Everything so far had been preparation.
The age that followed would not be defined by survival alone.
It would be defined by ascension.
And humanity stood at the threshold, unaware of how high the cost would be.