---
The Torvok Prime surged forward, and the air shattered with the sound of its roar.
Each step was a hammerblow—shaking the street, shattering glass, crushing hope.
Smoke curled around its form like shadows that obeyed its will.
I couldn't move.
The others were gone. Burned, broken, erased from existence in seconds.
Their screams still haunted the air—faint, swallowed by fire and collapsing steel.
There was nothing left.
No backup. No help. No hope.
I stood there, knife in hand, knees buckling.
A shaking breath.
A single heartbeat.
This is how it ends, I thought.
But then—
Her face.
My sister.
Smiling at breakfast. Arguing over cereal. Laughing when I forgot my keys.
My mom's hand brushing my hair back when I fell asleep at the table.
Dad's voice, soft but steady—"You're stronger than you think, Neil."
They're waiting.
The Torvok charged.
Something inside me snapped—not fear, not panic—defiance.
The air shifted. Time slowed. My heart thundered, not from terror—but rage.
I screamed.
A sound ripped from deep within me, raw and electric—
and the world changed.
The space around me cracked, light pulsing outward like a shockwave of lightning and thunder fused.
A short-range burst of pure kinetic energy exploded from my chest—
Shock Plus.
The Torvok Prime was in mid-leap when it hit.
The blast launched it backwards—its massive frame crashing through a car, flipping metal like paper, slamming into a wall with enough force to crack stone.
Silence.
Then a groan—low, primal. The Torvok twitched. Blood leaked from its shoulder.
I looked down at my hands—still shaking, humming faintly with energy.
I didn't run.
I didn't hide.
I stood tall.
I'm not done yet.
---
[Flashback Scene: Neil Rides Toward Home]
The city was dust and silence.
Where towers once pierced the sky, only skeletons remained — jagged spines of metal and ash. Streets were buried under rubble, glass glittered like sand, and firelight flickered where life used to be.
Neil's bike coughed smoke as it rattled over debris. One headlight flickered weakly, painting ghost-shadows on the crumbling walls. His hands gripped the handles tight, knuckles white, breath short.
Every turn, every street corner, brought him closer to home — or what was left of it.
He wasn't sure what he'd find.
But his heart… it was already breaking.
He could still hear her voice.
"Stay one more day, beta. Just one more."
She'd said it softly, cupping his cheek with warm hands, smiling the way only mothers do — that smile that made the world feel safe, no matter how chaotic life got.
But he'd left.
Deadlines. Work. Life.
"Next time, Ma," he'd said.
His father had clapped him on the back before he left, grinning wide. "Go conquer the world, son. We'll be here, always."
Always.
Neil blinked. The road blurred. Not from dust. From tears.
His chest felt tight. The box pulsed faintly in his bag, but for once, he didn't care.
He was just a son now.
A lost one.
---
Is this happening because of the box?
The thought hit me like a punch. The black box I found, buried under the rubble—had it given me these powers? Was it because of the box that I was able to do things I shouldn't be able to do?
I looked at my hands, trembling, feeling the strange energy flowing inside me. It didn't feel normal. It felt... wrong.
Was it the box?
What powers did it give me?
I was just an ordinary guy. Never special. Never a hero. I was just trying to survive. But now, I was doing things that didn't make sense. Things that weren't possible.
Why me?
The ground shook with a deafening roar.
The Torvok Prime was back, stomping toward me.
Its massive feet hit the ground like thunder.
But this time, I wasn't scared.
I didn't wait. I didn't run.
Something inside me pushed me forward. The energy, the power—
It wasn't just about survival anymore.
I had a reason to fight.
I ran.
The Torvok leaped at me, its claws aimed straight at me.
I ducked to the side, moving faster than I ever had before.
The slash missed by inches.
I could feel the air tear past me, feel my heart racing, my breath heavy—but I kept moving.
The Torvok turned, its giant form ready to strike again.
I didn't hesitate.
I rushed forward. The knife in my hand was cold, but my grip was firm.
I shoved it into the Torvok's stomach.
It screamed in pain—
but it didn't fall.
It didn't even flinch.
No.
I stepped back, gasping for breath.
The Torvok's mouth opened wide, ready to crush me.
Its teeth glowed—huge, sharp.
But I was faster this time.
I grabbed its jaw with both hands, trying to hold it back.
It roared and tried to throw me off—
But I didn't let go.
It roared and thrashed,
but I held on—because now, I had something to fight for.
---
[In Present]
---
Neil stood tall, bare-chested, his body scarred but solid—like forged steel.
He looked down at himself, blood dried on skin, muscles tight with power.
No shirt. No fear.
This wasn't the Neil from before.
This Neil had become something else.
From the shadows, four—no, five—Torvoks charged, snarling, claws slashing through the air.
They didn't hesitate.
Neither did he.
The first lunged. Neil sidestepped with impossible speed, catching its arm mid-swing and twisting.
A crack. A scream.
He hurled it into the second.
Bone met bone. The second collapsed.
The third roared and leapt—only to catch Neil's rising knee mid-air.
Before it could react, Neil grabbed it by the throat and slammed it into the pavement.
Hard.
The fourth and fifth came together, jaws wide, fangs flashing.
They clamped onto his arms—one on each side.
Neil didn't flinch.
He growled—and pulled.
Muscle flexed. Ligaments tore.
With a primal roar, he ripped their tongues clean out, forcing both beasts back, gurgling and writhing in agony.
The first Torvok—the one he'd thrown—was crawling away, dazed, trying to recover.
Neil walked over, calm. Unstoppable.
Without a word, he raised his boot—
and brought it down on its skull.
Crunch.
Silence.
Five enemies.
One man.
Neil exhaled slowly, his eyes burning like embers.
This was no longer survival.
This was dominance.
--
[Neil's Inner Monologue — Present]
These things... the Torvok...
They weren't here to conquer.
They didn't plant flags.
They didn't demand surrender.
They didn't speak a single word.
They just appeared—and started wiping us out.
It wasn't a war. It was a purge.
A system.
Precise.
Unrelenting.
Like someone hit a cosmic reset button—and sent in the janitors.
They weren't soldiers. They were executioners.
The slow.
The scared.
The ones who couldn't evolve fast enough—
Gone.
But why?
What are they clearing the way for?
That "asteroid"...
It doesn't spin.
It doesn't drift.
It waits—as if it knows exactly what it's doing.
And every time I look into a broken mirror... I see more.
Not reflections—messages. Like whispers from something watching behind the glass.
I know them better than I should.
Their movements. Their rhythm. Their design.
It's like the answers are trying to surface—but something is keeping them buried.
So what are they hiding?
Who's inside that thing?
A god? A prisoner? A king?
A judge?
What comes after the Torvok?
Because whatever's next...
It's not here to finish the war.
It's here to decide what's left of humanity.
The military's hitting back now—what's left of it.
They're starting to push the Torvok back, sweep by sweep, block by block.
But it's too late.
Most of the population is gone.
Wiped out in the first two strikes—just ash, shadows on walls, names on lists that will never be read.
This wasn't a battle.
This was filtering.
And now I need to know what made it through.
---
Neil paused, catching a glimpse of himself in a broken mirror half-buried in the rubble.
This time, he didn't look away.
He stared—hard.
Not out of habit. Not out of fear.
But with purpose.
And then…
Words began to appear.
Not scratched. Not written.
Reflected.
It takes time. We are coming.
His breath caught.
Every broken mirror shows more than my face—it shows what I'm becoming, or what I was always meant to be.
What?
Who wrote that?
Who's coming?
Neil took a step closer, eyes narrowing at the fractured message dancing on the glass.
"Coming to help us?" he muttered.
"Or to finish the job?"
His mind raced.
The box. The asteroid. The Torvok. The mirror.
Was this all connected?
Was the message from whatever was buried inside that so-called asteroid?
He clenched his fists.
How much time did they mean?
Days? Hours? Seconds?
And more importantly—
What were they bringing with them?
The sun dipped beneath the shattered skyline, casting long shadows across the broken earth.
Neil looked up—instinct, not curiosity. The asteroid still hung there, motionless… waiting.
But tonight, it wasn't alone.
Ten—no, fifteen—pinpricks of light shimmered near it.
Not stars.
Not debris.
They moved with purpose. Like they were aligning.
A slow chill crawled down Neil's spine.
Something was arriving.
Not Torvok.
Not known.
He narrowed his eyes, fists clenched, every muscle coiled.
What's next?