The second half of the ninety days was a game of invisible chess. Syros didn't just need soldiers; he needed the correct pillars. And the strongest pillar he knew was Kylie Ryans.
In the previous timeline, Kylie had been the "Saint of the Silver Spear," a man whose light-based abilities had kept thousands alive. But he had been a late bloomer, only finding his strength after his family had been slaughtered in the first wave. Syros wasn't going to let that happen again.
For weeks, Syros moved like a phantom in Kylie's wake. He watched Kylie's routine—the morning shifts at the library, the quiet dinners alone. From the shadows, Syros acted as a silent guardian. When a group of muggers cornered Kylie in an alley, they found themselves hitting an invisible wall of Brown Fire pressure before collapsing in terror; Kylie only felt a strange, warm breeze.
More importantly, Syros was "feeding" him.
Every time they passed in a crowd, Syros would release a microscopic thread of refined mana—tempered by his own Red Jade fire—and thread it into Kylie's spiritual veins. It was like priming a pump. He was manually widening Kylie's mana circuits, making his body a perfect vessel for the light power that was dormant within him.
By the time the final week arrived, Kylie's skin had a faint, healthy glow that he couldn't explain. He felt stronger, faster, and strangely alert.
Seven days before the end, Syros stopped hiding.
Kylie was sitting at a small corner table in a crowded downtown diner, nursing a coffee. Syros walked over and pulled out the chair directly across from him.
"Someone is sitting there," Kylie said, blinking in surprise at the intense, scarred energy radiating from the stranger.
Syros didn't move. He sat down, his eyes locking onto Kylie's with a weight that made the younger man's breath hitch. "In seven days, the sky will break," Syros said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. "Towers will pierce the cities. Gates will open. Creatures you've only seen in nightmares will begin to eat your neighbors."
Kylie let out a nervous laugh, looking around for a hidden camera. "Look, man, if this is a prank—"
"It isn't," Syros interrupted. "The 'System' will appear. It will tell you that you are a hero. It will offer you power. It is a leash, Kylie. Don't let it pull you too hard."
Kylie's expression hardened. "You're insane. Get lost before I call security."
Syros stood up calmly. He slid a plain black business card across the table. It had nothing on it but a phone number and a single symbol: a flame encased in a circle.
"I know you don't believe me," Syros said, turning to leave. He paused at the door, looking back over his shoulder. "If what I said happens... I hope you survive like last time. Call me after the first wave appears. Don't wait for the Angels to save you. They won't."
A week later, the world screamed.
The sky tore open like wet paper. Massive, obsidian Towers erupted from the earth, leveling skyscrapers. Blue-rimmed Gates swirled into existence in subways and parks, vomiting out swarms of chitinous, multi-limbed monsters. Panic turned the streets into a slaughterhouse. And then, the chime sounded in everyone's head.
[Notice: The System is Initiating...]
[Welcome, Humanity. To survive, you must ascend.]
Syros stood on a rooftop, watching the chaos. A screen flickered in front of his eyes, but it wasn't the pristine, glowing blue interface he remembered. It was dark, the edges jagged and cracked like an ancient, broken mirror. Static hissed across the text.
> [User: Syros Arlington]
> [Level: 1]
> [Class: ??? (Error: Overwritten)]
> [Current Power Output: Fire/Pyrokinesis, Fire Manipulation, Fire Enhancement]
> • Brown Fire (Earthen Origin): 9.0%
> • Red Jade Fire (Structural Origin): 2.3%
> [Title: Regressor (Fire power from the original timeline acquired: 47%/100%)]
Syros stared at the 47%. He could feel his old soul-fire—the spectrum that ran from basic Red all the way to the absolute White—locked behind a dam in his spirit. He couldn't unleash the White fire yet; his current Level 1 body would vaporize. But he had enough. He was already a titan among ants.
Across the city, Kylie Ryans was knee-deep in blood.
He was protecting a group of terrified survivors in a subway station. He didn't know how, but every time he swung a metal pipe, a burst of blinding silver light erupted from his hands. He was fighting like a demon, but the monsters were endless.
A massive, armored Beast—a Tower Guard—lumbered into the station, its roar shaking the tiles loose. Kylie stood in front of the children, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His light was flickering. He was exhausted.
The Beast raised a spiked club, ready to turn Kylie into a red smear.
I'm going to die, Kylie thought, his hand instinctively reaching into his pocket for the black card he'd almost thrown away.
The club swung down. Kylie closed his eyes.
BOOM.
A shockwave of pure, stabilizing pressure leveled the station. The heat was instantaneous—not a burning heat, but a heavy, crushing warmth that smelled of deep earth and ancient stone.
Kylie opened his eyes. The Beast was gone. In its place was a pile of fine, gray dust. A single, glowing ember—half-brown, half-jade—floated in the air where the monster had stood.
Kylie looked toward the entrance of the tunnel, but there was no one there. Only the sound of heavy boots retreating into the shadows and the sudden, frantic ringing of his own cell phone.