It had been over eleven years since Zeyden Arclain lost his biological father in a tragic work accident, a wound that carved deep into the young boy's heart. From that day forward, he was raised with unwavering warmth and affection by his gentle stepmother and three stepsisters who shared no blood ties with him at all. They were the family he chose, not one dictated by blood, yet their bond was stronger than anything fate could forge.
This small family lived together in the house inherited from his father—a simple structure brimming with memories on the city's outskirts. Their life was far from luxurious, just enough to cover daily needs, worlds away from the spoiled kids of the wealthy who could snag the latest gadgets or exotic vacations without a second thought. His stepmother, a resilient woman named Celestria, worked as a senior manager at a multinational company specializing in luxury jewelry and premium watches. Her steady salary kept their world spinning.
Two of his three stepsisters, Thessa and Brielle, were still chasing their dreams at an elite state university, majoring in competitive fields like engineering and design. In between classes, they juggled part-time jobs—Thessa as a barista at a trendy downtown café, while Brielle freelanced as a graphic designer to fund her photography hobby. The eldest, Sophia, had already graduated with a business degree and was now immersed in her own startup: an e-commerce platform focused on eco-friendly products. Sophia often shared her grand visions with a wide smile, "One day, we'll all live without a single worry about money," she'd say, though Zeyden knew the grueling struggle hidden behind that grin.
Zeyden himself had just graduated high school with perfect scores, but his heart was torn: pursue a prestigious college or dive straight into the world of innovation? From a young age, he'd tackled ambitious projects on his own—from a simple AI app for managing household finances to a prototype surveillance drone assembled in the garage. "Why bother with theory when I can just create?" he'd mutter often, staring at his computer screen in his cramped room overflowing with cables and electronic components.
Zeyden's talents weren't limited to his brilliant mind; he was a beast in athletics too. Since age seven, after his father's permanent departure, he'd channeled his grief and rage into brutal training. Like a pro athlete, he mastered multiple martial arts disciplines: boxing for precise punches, Muay Thai for devastating kicks, judo and wrestling for ground control, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu for slick submissions, and taekwondo for lightning speed. He fused them all into his unique MMA style. Not stopping there, he excelled in kendo—the Japanese art of swordsmanship demanding zen-like focus—and shooting sports, where he could hit targets from 50 meters with 95% accuracy.
That relentless training sculpted his body into a living weapon: standing at 6 feet 4 inches, with perfectly chiseled muscles and explosive power rivaling UFC heavyweights. His straight black hair fell a bit long, often tied into a ponytail during sessions, framing his stunning sapphire-blue eyes—a heritage from his father's Eurasian Caucasian roots. A sharp nose, chiseled jaw, and golden facial ratio made him handsome like a model, but his thick brows added a piercing aura, like a predator ready to strike. His torso was somewhat short, but his extraordinarily long arms and legs gave him insane reach in the ring. His skin was pale white, typical of East Asian descent, a remnant from his late birth mother from the distant land of cherry blossoms.
This year, Zeyden's big dream was a professional debut in the world's top MMA promotion. "I'll become a champion, for Dad," he vowed silently every morning. He spent his days at home, coding and experimenting with new tech—like a VR system for fight simulations. From 5 PM to 11 PM, he was at his favorite MMA gym, "Iron Forge," where his coach often praised him, "You're like a war machine, Zey."
Stellar Federation of America, Empire State City—the city that never slept, the pulsing heart of global business, finance, fashion, and celebrity glamour. Neon lights blazed 24/7, skyscrapers towered like concrete giants, and streets buzzed with endless chaos. Zeyden and his family lived on the eastern outskirts, a quiet suburban area: red-brick homes with small gardens, shady maple trees, and fresh air far from downtown pollution. Their house wasn't a mansion, but it was warm—the kitchen always fragrant with his stepmother's cooking, and Zeyden's room plastered with posters of his fighting idols.
That night, Zeyden pedaled his bike at a steady pace down the empty streets, his backpack slung over his shoulders, stuffed with boxing gloves, shin guards, and other MMA gear. It was past 11 PM, and today's training session had just wrapped—his body ached but felt satisfied after intense sparring. The night breeze brushed his face, carrying the scent of recent rain. "Home, shower, sleep. Tomorrow morning, another 10K run," he thought with a small smile, imagining Sophia's homemade pancakes for breakfast.
But fate had other plans. Suddenly, the night sky split open with a super-rare phenomenon: a spectacular meteor shower, like the universe's own fireworks. Glowing space rocks plummeted like a cascade of shooting stars, illuminating the darkness. "Wow, this is incredible!! Absolutely stunning!!" Zeyden exclaimed with pure enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling like a kid's. His scientific curiosity—the same drive that fueled his experiments—ignited. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance! I have to get a closer look."
Without a second thought, Zeyden pedaled his bike like lightning, adrenaline surging through his veins. He zipped through narrow alleys, vaulted over low fences with athletic leaps, and finally reached a secluded hilly area on the city's edge. Breathing heavily, his eyes stayed glued to the meteors' trails drawing nearer.
From afar, he witnessed the massive impact: the meteorite slammed into the earth, triggering a local quake that shook the ground beneath his feet. Shockwaves ripped through trees, shattering small rocks nearby. A sonic boom thundered like lightning, nearly bursting his eardrums—Zeyden reflexively covered his ears, grateful for the safe distance, even as hot winds blasted his face like an oven's breath.
Once the tremors subsided, Zeyden's heart pounded wildly. "This... this could be a huge discovery!" He hopped back on his bike, powering up the hill with his trained leg muscles, until he reached the landing site.
There, a massive crater yawned like a wound in the earth, dozens of meters wide. Embers licked at dry grass, black smoke billowing into the night sky. The stench of sulfur and hot metal pierced his nostrils. But curiosity trumped danger; Zeyden was the type to always push limits.
With cat-like agility, he hopped over flames, leaped past debris, and landed right beside the colossal meteorite's left side. The space rock still glowed red-hot, its heat radiating intensely—he knew from physics class that atmospheric friction generated thousands of degrees, and that thermal energy didn't dissipate instantly.
But curiosity clouded his judgment. "Just a quick touch," he whispered to himself. His palm met the rough surface—scorching pain shot through like hellfire, forcing him to yank back. Unfortunately, the motion sliced his finger on a sharp edge. "Ouch—damn it!" Zeyden cursed, fresh blood dripping from the gash on his index finger.
The blood flowed onto the meteorite's surface, absorbing like living ink. Suddenly, the rock blazed with blinding light, a white-blue glow flooding the crater for several seconds. Zeyden staggered back, eyes wide. Then, the light vanished in an instant, leaving the crater empty—the meteorite gone, as if swallowed by the earth.
As the afterglow faded, Zeyden felt a strange paralysis in his left palm, like an electric current freezing his nerves. "Urgh—my hand!" A sudden searing heat erupted, making him groan in agony, his knees nearly buckling.
Moments later, the numbness eased. Trembling, he flipped his left palm over. There, etched into his skin, was a bizarre tattoo: an intricate spiral pattern like ancient runes, pitch-black. "What the hell kind of weird tattoo is this?" he muttered in confusion, rubbing it with his thumb, trying to wipe it away like ink stain. But it wouldn't budge; instead, it felt warm against his skin.
In the next second, the tattoo shifted. It glowed a deep purple, like the void of the cosmos, and began spinning at high speed. Zeyden retreated, his heart racing. The tattoo expanded, forming a swirling space-time portal right in front of him—wide as a gateway, rotating wildly, emanating raw primal energy. The dark purple light illuminated his face, fierce winds from the portal whipping his hair, and a rumbling roar echoed like a storm.
"What the fuck is this?!" Zeyden shouted, but before he could fully react, his body was sucked into the vortex. The sensation hit like free-falling into a bottomless abyss—the world spun, Earth's reality vanished. Zeyden Arclain disappeared from his home planet, engulfed by a mystery greater than any of his dreams.