CHAPTER THREE
The Light-Screen Descends
The tear in the sky did not close.
It widened.
Across the world, billions stared upward, unable to breathe, unable to look away.
The heavens had split like flesh.
Behind that fracture was not darkness.
Not space.
Not stars.
It was something else—
a depth too vast for human eyes.
The air trembled.
Every animal on Earth went silent.
Even the oceans seemed to still.
Then…
the light came.
Not sunlight.
Not lightning.
A pale, impossible radiance poured from the tear, washing over cities, mountains, deserts, seas.
It did not burn.
It did not warm.
It simply revealed.
Reality itself felt thin, like paper held over flame.
And then—
they arrived.
The Giants
At first, people thought they were clouds.
Shapes drifting slowly beyond the tear.
But clouds did not have edges that sharp.
Clouds did not cast shadows that heavy.
Clouds did not make the sky feel small.
The figures descended.
Humanoid.
Colossal.
Each one taller than mountains, their bodies half-hidden behind layers of shifting light.
They were not flesh.
Not machine.
Not spirit.
Something in between.
Something beyond.
Their faces could not be seen clearly.
Every time the mind tried to understand them, it slipped.
Like trying to remember a dream.
In Tokyo, a woman collapsed screaming.
In Los Angeles, a man whispered:
"…angels."
In Beijing, soldiers raised rifles with shaking hands, though they already knew it was meaningless.
In space, astronauts stared through the glass of their station and began to pray.
The giants hovered above Earth like judges.
And then—
one of them moved.
It raised a hand.
The gesture was slow.
Careless.
As if swatting dust.
The entire planet felt the motion in its bones.
Then the Creator's voice returned.
Not disappointed now.
Not cold.
Simply… administrative.
"Protection has ended."
"Trial has begun."