Small obsidian ships broke through the clouds and slammed into the city. Every landing carved deep craters; every impact hurled flame and stone into the sky. Buildings collapsed, streets burned, and New Eden drowned in screams.
From the drifting ash came the invaders. They called themselves the Vertains—half human, half dragon, forged of black, stone-like flesh. Each stood around six or seven feet tall, tails swaying, spines crowned with jagged spikes, faces hidden behind smooth metal masks. Their close-range weapons—katanas, scythes, sickles—glowed a dull, murderous red. They were ruthless, killing men, women, even children without hesitation.
A woman lay trapped beneath a fallen slab, her ankle crushed. Through the smoke she saw a tall figure moving toward her, twin sickles gleaming crimson. Her pulse raced; terror froze her body.
"Humans," the Vertain hissed. "Nothing more than insects."
It raised a sickle to strike.
A torrent of water slammed into its arm, knocking the blade aside. On a nearby boulder stood a man in a torn yellow shirt—one of the city's Heroes.
"Strange," the Vertain said, tilting its head. "You can withstand my pressure."
"Pressure?" the Hero answered, forming water around his fists. "That explains this heaviness—but one thing, monster: you never raise a hand against a lady."
He lunged. Water-forged gauntlets crashed against the Vertain's blades, each blow echoing through the street. Sparks and droplets flew; the alien blocked effortlessly.
"That won't kill me, boy."
"We'll see."
A sphere of water formed behind the creature and shot forward. The Vertain vanished, reappearing behind him, and the sickle flashed once. The Hero's body slammed into a ruined tower and went still. The alien glanced at the terrified woman, then turned away. "Insects," it muttered, and disappeared into the smoke.
---
News of the invasion reached Carcosa within the hour. Fear consumed the people.
Inside a high tower, four figures sat around a circular table—the heads of the Four Great Families, rulers of Elyria's armies, trade, and politics. The silence was heavy until one spoke.
"So… they've returned. After five hundred years."
"Yes," another replied. "And stronger. Most of our Heroes are dead or dying."
"What of their numbers?"
"A thousand Vertains, Tier One units. The city is lost."
Caster Blade, patriarch of the Blade Family, slammed his fist on the table. "Then we act now. Send every Hero above a Dormant Core level. The war has begun."
Across the room, holographic data flared—hundreds of names and ranks. Everyone there knew what those words meant.
In Elyria, strength was measured by the Core—the crystal of energy each person was born with. The stronger the Core, the greater the element it could command. Few ever reached the higher stages.
Core Levels of Power
Dormant Core – The awakening stage; the Core barely stirs, granting only minor elemental use.
Awakened Core – The Core breathes; users can project power and shape simple constructs.
Veiled Core – The Core stabilizes, forming an inner field that protects the body.
Resonant Core – Body and Core synchronize; pressure auras become tangible.
Divine Core – Power extends beyond the physical; users alter elements on a massive scale.
Unholy Core – Forbidden level possessed only by the Holy Knights, nearing divinity but consuming life itself.
Rumors spoke of a final stage—the Null Core, a power beyond creation—but it was dismissed as myth whispered by the old families.
Caster's voice cut through the tension. "Mobilize every Awakened, every Resonant, every Divine. The Holy Knights command the front. No one leaves until it's done."
---
All across Elyria, soldiers armed themselves, jets roared from carriers, and families embraced for what might be the last time. The world prepared for extinction.
High in the Skyline Mountains, Raven knelt in the mud, body trembling under crushing air. Before him stood a Vertain unlike the rest—two tails coiling behind it, spikes glinting like obsidian glass.
"A human," the creature said softly. "You don't look like a warrior. They said humans were dangerous, but you… you're pathetic."
"Wh-who are you?" Raven stammered.
"Me?" It laughed. "I am the Fifth Commander of the Battle Force—Xenon. Don't be afraid; I'll make it painless."
He raised his arm. Black lightning coiled around his hand, solidifying into a curved blade. "You'll be my first human kill."
Before he could strike, a metallic voice echoed from the clouds. "Xenon. Return to the ship. Urgent orders."
Xenon paused, lowered the weapon, and looked down at Raven. "You're lucky, child. Next time, you won't be." In an instant he was gone, vanishing into the crimson sky toward the flagship above.
The pressure vanished. Raven gasped, collapsing onto the wet earth, lungs burning. Only one thought beat through his mind.
Survive