Chapter 1: Reckoning
Midnight struck, and the world fell silent.
Across the globe, humanity collapsed into unconsciousness, their bodies limp where they lay. Cars drifted to a halt. Planes coasted on dead engines, somehow finding their way to the ground by no known means. The hum of civilization stuttered into eerie stillness. Cities once alive with neon and noise turned into graveyards of the unknowing, their people locked in stillness.
Humanity shared a single dream: Asmodeus stood before each of them.
Asmodeus was not bound to a single form. They appeared as a figure wreathed in luminous radiance, shifting with the perceptions of those who beheld them. Some saw a god of flame and fury, others a celestial judge, and to a rare few, a shadow looming at the edge of comprehension, too great for mortal minds to grasp. Their voice did not speak—it resonated, a declaration within the soul.
"My children, how you have strayed."
The words carried the weight of millennia, reverberating through the very essence of those who heard them.
"You were given the gift of strength, yet you have let your bodies wither. You were given the virtue of honour, yet you have forsaken it for deception and greed. You were given the bond of kinship, yet you stand divided, worshipping wealth and power."
Asmodeus’ gaze pierced through them, through their illusions, their pretences, down to the bare core of what they truly were. Few met that gaze with defiance. Most quailed under its judgment.
In his dream, Porter stared defiantly into the god’s eyes. His life had never been easy, and he had no patience for judgment—least of all from some divine intruder. That defiance wasn’t born of courage but of hardened pride, of years spent surviving on his own terms. He condemned the god’s arrogance, resenting its presence in his mind. When he woke, he would return to his life unchanged, doing as he pleased, just as he always had.
"The reckoning has come. You will prove yourselves worthy of the path intended for you… or you will be erased."
The vision shattered.
As dawn’s first light touched the horizon, the world awoke. Confusion and terror spread like wildfire. People gasped for breath, hands clutching at their chests as if they had forgotten how to draw air.
Some screamed, others wept. A great many simply sat in stunned silence, the weight of the dream lingering like a phantom upon their souls.
And then they saw them.
The grimoires.
Resting beside every man, woman, and child lay a tome, its cover untouched by earthly materials. It bore no weight, yet pressing it against one’s chest sent warmth through the body, an undeniable connection to something beyond the self.
Each grimoire was unique, shaped by the essence of the soul it belonged to. Some covers shimmered like polished obsidian, others pulsed with soft, rhythmic light, and some bore intricate designs etched into leather that felt both ancient and new. The text within, unreadable at first glance, seemed alive—shifting subtly, as if responding to the bearer’s presence.
Some, driven by curiosity, fear, or awe, opened their books as if under compulsion.
Others tried to discard them, only to feel a searing pain, as if part of their very soul was being torn away, compelling them to hold on.
Within the mostly blank pages, the same words could be found greeting them all:
Find strength in self, find honour on the path forward, and find company in those walking beside you.
With these words came a feeling—an echo of what walking Asmodeus’s intended path once felt like. A life of purpose, where strength meant more than survival; it was the means to shape one’s destiny. Honour was the foundation on which civilizations had stood—a bond of trust unbroken by greed.
To walk the path was to reject complacency, to face the raw challenge of life, and to rediscover lost unity. It was never meant to be easy, but for those who embraced it, there was power, meaning, and something far richer than the hollow comfort of their old lives.
As humanity stared at their grimoires, absorbing the message within, the sky erupted.
Across the horizon, ribbons of ethereal light fractured the heavens, cascading down in waves of shifting colour. Then, like falling stars, motes of light rained toward the earth, dissolving into everything they touched—the air, the water, the very bones of the world.
Before comprehension could take root, a change began to take hold within them. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift.
A dull ache, long accepted as a part of life, seemed to ease. The weary felt a clarity they had not known in years. The sick took deeper breaths. Those living with long-ignored injuries found their pain strangely faded.
It was not a miraculous healing—yet. But it was a beginning. A whisper of restoration. A promise of what was to come.
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The ether rain did not soak the earth but passed through all it touched, sinking into the land, the rivers, the very bones of the world—and fading from view.
As humanity took a collective breath, the world itself shifted. The skies, long tainted by smog and artificial light, deepened into an untouched abyss of velvet black, stars glimmering with an intensity unseen in millennia.
The air, once thick with the scent of industry and decay, began to clear, growing crisp and pure—a forgotten sensation creeping into the lungs of the awakening masses. Grass, dulled and trampled beneath the weight of civilization, pulsed with life, new shoots rising where only concrete had stood. Trees shuddered, their leaves regaining colour, waking from a long slumber to drink deep of the energy now filling the dawn.
Invisible to humanity, motes of ether began gathering in pools across the world. In forgotten ruins, sacred sites, and relics where history clung to the present, something stirred. Old stones pulsed with faint warmth, long-eroded carvings began to glow, and whispers of ancient magic slipped through cracks in time, eager to be heard again.
As the ether fell and pools began collecting, movement stirred. Shapes began to emerge, clawing their way into existence.
Small and few at first—in some places little green-skinned humanoids, barely taller than a child, gripped crude weapons in their clawed hands, their beady eyes darting in all directions as if expecting attack at any moment. In others, reptilian creatures rose, standing hunched but balanced on two legs, flicking forked tongues through razor teeth as if tasting the air around them, their scaled hides shifting colour slightly as they moved, blending into the dim light. In the shadows of the ether pools, other creatures lurked—things that had no name, warped remnants of past failures, skittering into nearby shadows as if afraid to be seen.
They stepped onto the earth with instinctive wariness, their predatory eyes scanning their new domain. Asmodeus's failures had been given another chance to rise, just as humanity had.
The cycle had never allowed second chances before, yet here they stood, revived by the returning ether. Would they prove themselves worthy of survival, or would they fall once again into oblivion?
Their presence was both a warning and a test—a reminder that this world was no longer solely humanity’s to claim.
Across the world, there was a minute pause and suddenly every grimoire in existence vanished, flowing into their owners. As if a signal had been given, all hell broke loose.
Among those waking, some found meaning in the words they had received. In a church on the edge of a rundown town, a devout priest resumed his sermon, calming his flock as he declared this moment to be the rapture. Clutching their chests where the lights had vanished, the congregation listened in awe as he proclaimed the fulfilment of prophecy: "The good shall be saved and the wicked punished." To them, this was divine judgment—the true word of God.
Draped in ceremonial robes, the priest instinctively resummoned his grimoire and raised it high. "All who follow the sacred word within their books will be chosen for the new world!" he cried. "The unbelievers must listen! The path has been set!" His followers echoed his words, their numbers swelling as desperate souls flooded the church, seeking certainty and shelter in the growing chaos.
People ran in terror. Some banding together. Social structures, though shaken, held firm in those first moments. Strangers pulled one another from the ground, parents clutched their children close, and communities instinctively sought safety in numbers. There were cries, there was fear, and, in some cases, there was cruelty, as those who barely tolerated or functioned in society began testing the bounds of this new reality. Order had not fully collapsed, not yet, but the true test of human nature would be ongoing.
As more and more monsters appeared, some, in foolish curiosity, approached these strange beings, seeking to communicate or understand. Among them, an influencer, dazed but determined, clutched her lifeless phone. Frustration etched across her face as she desperately tapped the screen, trying in vain to stream, to reach an audience that no longer existed. When the device refused to function, she turned to a reptilian creature nearby, its head tilted in clear curiosity. “Maybe you’ll go viral,” she muttered to the creature, voice faltering beneath the joke. The creature’s response was swift—a guttural hiss, followed by a snap of jagged teeth that sent the influencer stumbling back in terror before she scrambled away, her bravado dissolving into terror.
Meanwhile, others, driven by primal fear or bravado, struck out—grabbing makeshift weapons and charging headlong into the chaos. One such soul, a fighter fresh from his dojo, woke to the dream’s remnants still echoing in his ears. Unlike many, he didn’t hesitate. The moment his eyes locked onto a green-skinned creature creeping too close, his stance shifted instinctively. Years of discipline took over as he tested his skills against a foe that, moments ago, had only existed in fiction. His first strike sent the creature stumbling back. Its retaliation came fast—its blade sliced the air where his throat had been.
The fight was real. And for the first time, he understood what it meant to be truly tested.
Seeing the goblin meant to kill him, the man stepped in, kicked its arm, and sent the blade flying. He spun through the motion, following through with a full-circle kick that cracked the creature’s neck with a brutal snap. As it crumpled, the fighter felt a surge of exaltation—something raw and powerful flowed into him. As he turned to survey the chaos around him, a grin split his face.
He was enjoying this new reality.
As the sun continued to rise, blood flowed as a war for survival unfolded on streets that had recently known peace.
Amongst the chaos, people gathered into large groups and began seeking shelter. The more alert individuals started looting supplies before the situation could worsen.
The monsters did not remain isolated to the pools for long. Some ventured forth, exploring the new world around them and attacking anything unfamiliar. Others fell back on old instincts, gathering with more of their kind—a small semblance of intelligence apparent.
In less than an hour, a civilization built over thousands of years, already teetering from its unnatural slumber, began to break apart. As humanity faltered, nature surged forward. Cities bowed to the encroaching wild—trees cracked pavement, vines overtook buildings, and rivers shimmered with ether-cleansed purity.
Law enforcement and governments scrambled to maintain control. Technology, once humanity’s pillar of dominance, faltered. Power grids flickered, devices failed, and the spread of ether quietly dismantled the foundations of the old world.
Glass cracked in towering skyscrapers, the steel beneath them groaning under unseen pressure. Cars sat lifeless in the streets, their synthetic parts degrading unnaturally. The world had been built to defy nature—but nature had never forgotten. Roots grew long and deep, vines climbed streetlights, and once-polluted waters began to clear as ether seeped into every crevice of the earth.
Alliances formed and crumbled within hours. Some sought to restore order, while others embraced the chaos, taking what they could before the rules of the past fully dissolved.
The Reckoning was here, and humanity's first trial had just begun.