Jack Wilson crouched on the crumbling rooftop of an abandoned subway station in West Hollow—a forgotten part of the city where spirit energy still bled through the cracks of reality. He held a black-market flash drive in one hand, its surface etched with glowing red symbols.
On his worn tablet, a warning blinked in crimson text:
"Chaos Pulse Manifestation – CLASSIFIED | Do NOT Open (Lethality Rating: 9/10)"
Jack cracked a grin, wind whipping through his half-burned hoodie.
"Well… guess I'll take my chances with that one percent."
He clicked "Open."
The screen went dark. Runes burst into the air, floating around him like glitching holograms. Power surged through the ground. The sky pulsed violet for a heartbeat—and then—
Boom.
A shockwave tore through the city block. Streetlights shattered. Concrete cracked. Crows screamed into the sky.
---
Hours later, Jack came to in a dumpster behind a ramen bar, reeking of soy broth and brimstone. His hoodie was singed, one eyebrow gone, and a strange glowing sigil was burned into his palm.
He sat up slowly, groaning. "Okay. That was awesome."
---
At the Arcanum Guild's tower, red alarms flared across crystal servers. Cloaked archivists stared at a glowing anomaly on their map.
[Unauthorized Chaos Awakening Detected – Subject: Jack Wilson]
"Someone actually opened the Chaos Pulse file?"
"He's marked now."
"Find him. Before it spreads."
---
In a dark room beneath the city, something ancient stirred for the first time in 900 years.
And it remembered that name: Wilson.