Here is the official start of              The Chaos Heart.

  Ben Stryker checked his bank account on his cracked phone screen while waiting at a red light. Balance: $14.50.

  "Awesome," Ben muttered, shoving the phone into his soaked pocket. "I can officially afford to buy… absolutely nothing. Maybe a pack of gum if I skip lunch for the next three years. Sorry, Grandma, looks like we’re eating leftovers again."

  Rain lashed against his helmet as he kicked his sputtering moped into gear. He was navigating the slick streets of Sector 4—the part of the city people pretended didn't exist. It was a graveyard of rusted factories and half-finished skyscrapers that the city budget forgot.

  "One large Pepperoni Special for… The Old Railyard," Ben read the receipt attached to the damp pizza box. He sighed. "Of course. Because nothing good ever happens at an abandoned railyard. It’s always drug deals, cult summonings, or raccoons with rabies."

  He parked the bike near the rusting iron gates. The silence was heavy. It wasn't just quiet; it felt like the air had been sucked out of the world. Ben walked into the main warehouse, flashlight in one hand, pizza in the other. "Hello? Pizza delivery! Thirty minutes or less, or I get fired and starve!"

  CRACK.

  It sounded like lightning striking inside the building. The air in the center of the room warped, twisting like a heat mirage. A jagged tear in reality ripped open, glowing with a sickly Violet light.

  Ben dropped the pizza. "Okay. That’s not a raccoon."

  A body came flying out of the rift, slamming into the concrete floor with a wet thud. The rift snapped shut instantly, leaving the warehouse dark again.

  Ben’s instinct was to run. His brain screamed Run. But his feet moved forward. He knelt beside the body. "Hey man, you okay? I’m gonna call 911—"

  The man grabbed Ben’s wrist. His grip was iron. Ben froze. The flashlight beam hit the man’s face. It was a mirror. Same black messy hair. Same sharp jawline. Same scar over the left eyebrow that Ben had gotten falling off a swing set when he was seven. It was Ben. But older. Harder. And dying.

  "Listen to me," the Other Ben wheezed, blood bubbling past his lips. His chest armor was shredded. "The Cycle… is broken."

  "Who are you?" Ben stammered, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Is this a prank? Are you a clone?"

  "They are coming," Other Ben gasped. He reached into his own chest cavity—not into a pocket, but into his flesh. With a sickening crunch of bone, he ripped out a fist-sized object lodged in his sternum.

  It was a crystal. A perfectly cut, twenty-sided gem, pulsing with a deep, chaotic Violet rhythm.

  "Take the Heart," Other Ben whispered, shoving the wet, warm crystal into Ben’s hand. "Don't let the Council find it. Roll the odds, Ben. Roll or die."

  The Other Ben’s eyes glazed over. His body didn't just stop moving; it dissolved. It turned into grey ash, crumbling away until only the clothes remained.

  Ben scrambled back, hyperventilating. He looked at the crystal in his hand. It was vibrating. "What the hell is going on?"

  GROWL.

  The sound came from the shadows. It sounded like wet meat slapping against pavement. Ben shone his flashlight. Two yellow eyes reflected the beam. Then teeth. Rows and rows of needle-teeth.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  It stepped into the light. It looked like a wolf the size of a minivan, but it had no skin. Just raw, red muscle glistening with slime, and white bone plates covering its face. A "Flesh-Scourge."

  "Meat," the thing hissed. It didn't speak with a tongue; the sound came from grinding its bones together.

  "Nice doggy," Ben squeaked, scrambling backward until his heels hit a steel pillar. "I… I have pizza! Take the pizza!"

  The Scourge Wolf didn't want pizza. It wanted a throat. It didn't pounce. It struck with terrifying speed, swiping a massive, clawed paw at Ben’s head.

  Ben didn't have time to think. A pure survival reflex kicked in. He threw his right hand up to block the blow—forgetting he was holding the heavy crystal.

  THWACK.

  The wolf’s paw connected with Ben’s hand like a baseball bat hitting a ball. The force was incredible. It didn't cut him; it knocked his arm back with bone-jarring violence. Ben’s arm snapped back toward his body faster than his muscles could stop it.

  His own fist—clutching the jagged crystal—was hammered directly into the center of his chest.

  It was a perfect, terrible accident.

  The moment the crystal slammed against his sternum, it screamed. It didn't bounce off; it melted through his shirt and sank into his flesh like a hot coal dropping into snow.

  "ARGHHHHH!" Ben screamed, the breath knocked out of him. He tried to pull his hand away, but the crystal was already gone—buried inside him, fusing flush with his ribs. The pain was blinding.

  THUMP-THUMP.

  A mechanical voice echoed directly inside his skull. [USER SYNCHRONIZED.] [THREAT DETECTED. INITIATING PANIC ROLL.]

  The Violet light in Ben's chest suddenly flashed Neon Blue. The Scourge Wolf recoiled, blinded. Above Ben’s head, a giant, holographic numbers wheel spun in blue light. Click. Click. Click.

  It stopped on a Blue 14.

  [ROLL: 14. ARCHETYPE: HEAVY ASSAULT. FORM: THE TITAN-APE.]

  Ben tried to scream, "What is happening?!" but all that came out was a deafening, gravelly "ROAAAAR!"

  The sound terrified him more than the wolf did. He felt his bones shatter and reform. His skin split as thick, grey stone plates erupted from his body. In one second, the 5'9" delivery boy was gone. In his place stood a ten-foot-tall gorilla made of living obsidian stone.

  Ben tried to step back, but his legs were suddenly two tons of solid rock. He lost his balance immediately. BOOM. He crashed backward, smashing through a concrete pillar like it was made of Styrofoam. The entire roof groaned.

  "I can't move! I'm a statue!" Ben panicked inside his own head.

  The Scourge Wolf lunged. It bit down hard on Ben’s stone forearm. CRUNCH. The wolf yelped. Its teeth shattered on the obsidian skin.

  Ben flailed in blind panic. "Get it off! Get it off!" He swatted at the wolf—not a punch, just a terrified "shooing" motion. But with his new mass, that "swat" hit with the force of a speeding truck.

  THWACK.

  The wolf didn't just fly back; it was launched across the warehouse. It slammed into the far brick wall with a wet splat, turning into black smoke instantly.

  Ben lay there in the rubble, heart pounding (slowly, like a drum). He looked at his massive stone hands. I killed it? I barely touched it.

  [DURATION EXPIRED.]

  ZAP. The stone form shattered violently. Ben dropped to the floor, human again, gasping for air. He was covered in dust, his shirt ripped open. He looked down at his chest. The Artifact was fused deep into his skin, right over his heart. But the light was no longer Blue. It wasn't Violet either. It was pulsing a dull, dead Grey.

  He looked around the empty warehouse. The wolf was gone. The Dead Ben was ash. Then, a thought hit him through the fear. He looked at the crushed pizza box.

  "Wait..." Ben whispered, shivering. "That guy fell out of a portal five seconds ago. He couldn't have called the pizza shop thirty minutes ago." Ben looked into the darkness of the warehouse. "So who ordered the pizza?"

  CLANG. The main warehouse doors burst open. Rain flooded in.

  "Police!" Ben yelled, raising his hands. "It wasn't me! The rock monster did it!"

  But it wasn't the police. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the lightning, was a girl. She had flaming red hair soaked by the rain, and she was wearing… medieval plate armor? She held a broadsword that looked way too heavy for a human to lift.

  She walked up to Ben, the tip of her blade dragging on the concrete, sparking. She stopped inches from his face. She looked at the Grey crystal in his chest. Her eyes narrowed.

  "You," she spat, her voice thick with disgust. "You are the thief who stole the Heart."

  She raised the sword, pointing it at Ben’s throat. "I am Princess Vala of the Dragon Realms. Give me the artifact, peasant, or I will carve it out of your corpse."

  Ben looked at the sword. He looked at his exhausted, shirtless body. He looked at the crushed pizza on the floor. "I really hate Tuesdays," Ben sighed.

  [TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 2]