Kael stepped out of the metallic building, still shaken by his awakening in this unfamiliar world. The fresh air hit his face, laced with dust and the strange scent of industrial chemicals. Before him, the city of Nareth stretched out like a sleeping beast—towers of black metal, bristling with antennas, suspended walkways, and streets lined with flickering blue neon. He stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed. The sky itself looked different, crisscrossed by hovering vessels. Far off, massive bastions pulsed with energy. This was no longer Velmeria.
As he wandered across a large plaza, Kael noticed a patrolling unit. Among them stood out a striking woman—tall, confident, her gaze sharp. She wore a black uniform bearing a vivid emblem: a blue eye wide open, surrounded by jagged spikes. She moved with a grace sharpened by purpose, eyes constantly scanning her surroundings. Kael's heart raced. Something about her inspired both security… and mystery.
Suddenly, a crackling noise tore the air. A black portal split open a few meters away—ripping reality like paper. From its depths emerged inhuman forms. Vorms. Horrific, twisted, their limbs warped and mouths stretched unnaturally wide, drooling acid. They charged at nearby civilians, tearing through flesh and bone as screams echoed across the plaza.
Kael instinctively backed away, paralyzed. The ground shook beneath their weight. He tried to scream, to run, but his legs betrayed him. Chaos erupted. A mother fell, shrieking. A child was ripped from her arms. Panic gripped the air like a noose.
A powerful hand grabbed him suddenly, lifting him with ease. A man wearing the same uniform as the woman from before sprinted with Kael toward a sheltered corner behind a metal structure. He set him down roughly. "Stay here unless you wanna end up food like the rest," he barked. "We've got this under control."
Then he turned and ran straight into the carnage. Kael, still on the ground, watched the patrol spring into action. The Sentinel Wing. The Guardians. Coordinated strikes, efficient movements—this was not their first encounter with these monsters. The man who had saved him fired a strange weapon, its rounds glowing blue as they shredded the creatures. Nearby, the woman dispatched Vorms with terrifying speed and precision.
The fight was brief but intense. Blood, screams, gunfire… then silence. The Vorms, now piles of twitching flesh, were dead or driven back. The soldiers remained alert for a few moments longer before easing off.
Kael stood, shaking. Slowly, he approached the man who had rescued him. The soldier was cleaning his weapon, calm despite the carnage.
"Who… who are you?" Kael asked.
The man looked up. He had dark hair, steel-gray eyes, and a pale tattoo on his neck. "Ryven Thorne. Sentinel Wing. And you?"
"Kael... Kael Aelaris," Kael replied, hesitantly.
Ryven squinted. "Wasn't you supposed to be dead years ago?"
Kael stepped back, confused.
"I… I lost my memory. I just woke up this morning and… I don't remember what happened these past eight years. I must've hit my head or something."
Ryven stared at him for a long moment before shrugging. "Happens more often than you'd think out here. But if you want to survive, you better catch up fast."
Kael nodded quickly. "Those people… you… you killed those things. Who are they? What's with those uniforms?"
Ryven leaned against a steel beam, crossing his arms. "You just saw the Sentinel Wing—the Guardians. We're one of five main corps tasked with defending what's left of humanity."
Kael listened, wide-eyed.
"The Guardians, that's us," Ryven explained. "We protect the borders. Patrol high-risk zones. If Vorms breach the lines, we're the first ones in."
He raised a hand and began counting.
"Next are the Reapers—the Dreads Corps. They're insane. We send them where no one else wants to go. They hit hard, fast, and most of the time… they don't come back. Their emblem's a skull pierced by a black crescent. Fitting, huh?"
Kael shuddered. The image of the dead Vorm was still burned into his mind.
"Then you've got the Sealers—the Iron Bastion. They close breaches. As soon as a portal opens, they roll in with machines and ancient tech to shut it down. Their emblem? A broken shield, stitched back together with chains."
Ryven paused, then continued.
"The Umbral Seekers—the Shadows. They're scouts, infiltrators, assassins. They sneak into Vorm-controlled zones to gather intel. Their emblem's an upside-down dagger piercing through a moon. Creepy bunch, but they get results."
Kael was absorbing every word.
"Finally, you've got the Vulture Recovery—the Scavengers. They collect the bodies, clean up battlefields, salvage anything useful. Their emblem's a gas mask with a bloody claw. Without them, we'd drown in rot and corpses."
Kael gulped. This world was nothing like the one he remembered.
"Is there… is there any way to join them?" he asked quietly.
Ryven smirked. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. Yeah, there's a way. We recruit every six months. And lucky you—the next test is tomorrow morning. But listen close, Kael: if you're not ready to die, stay away from the Reapers. It's a one-way trip."
Kael nodded slowly. He had so many questions, but one thing was certain: he had to move forward.
"Thanks. And… you said your name was Ryven Thorne?"
"Yeah. And now, get some rest. Tomorrow… your real nightmare begins."