Prologue- Breach
The city of Nurmix glowed beneath a peaceful, star-filled sky, its towers shining like sharpened glass against the darkness. From the rooftop of Channel Seven News, Ari Malen, senior night anchor, stood before the cameras, his earpiece humming softly as a warm breeze carried the scent of coffee and fresh pastries from the streets below.
"It's a beautiful night here in Nurmix," he began, smiling into the lens as the quiet city glittered behind him.
Then the wind stopped.
The lights on the rooftop flickered. Ari hesitated, glancing upward. "Hold on— I'm feeling a bit of static out here. Do you all—"
A deafening crack tore through the sky.
The cameras shook. Technicians shouted. Ari stumbled back as a blinding white fissure ripped across the heavens, stretching wider and wider with a sound like metal screaming.
The rooftop fell silent—no traffic, no sirens, not even a bird in the air.
Then the world exploded.
A shockwave of heat slammed into the city, igniting the skyline in violent blossoms of fire. Streets buckled. Glass shattered. Firestorms roared through entire blocks as people poured out of their buildings, screaming and shielding their faces from the infernal wind.
Ari ripped off his earpiece, the smell hitting him all at once—rotting flesh, wet meat, and a choking metallic tang that burned down his throat.
"Oh my god," he whispered, forgetting the cameras entirely. "What… what is that smell?"
Another crack thundered above him.
From the widening rift, shadows spilled out—long, twisted shapes dragging themselves into the world like newborn nightmares. One creature dropped to a rooftop, armored in black and silver plate, greenish-gray skin steaming in the firelit air. Then another stepped through. Then another.
Then hundreds.
Ari's voice trembled as he backed away. "They're— they're coming through. They're actually—"
The first creature let out a roar that shook the air itself.
Behind them surged smaller bluish-white creatures in lighter armor, firing strange, shrieking weapons that carved glowing lines across the sky. Overhead, robed creatures —purplish-red figures floating effortlessly—spread out from the rift, hurling spiraling arcs of magic toward the city like falling stars.
All he saw was the sky.
A squadron of military helicopters thundered toward the rift, their floodlights cutting harsh beams through the smoke. Their guns opened fire in deafening bursts—but the shots sparked uselessly against demonic armor or were swallowed entirely by the robed demons' magic.
A bolt of violet flame struck the lead helicopter.
It spun out of control, crashing into a tower with an explosion that lit up the sky like a second sun.
"No— no, no, no…" Ari whispered as another helicopter fell. And another.
The rooftop beneath his feet trembled.
Screams rose from the streets below as creatures of the night poured down the sides of buildings like insects, cutting through civilians and soldiers alike. Bodies hit pavement. Flames swallowed plazas. Every corner of Nurmix collapsed in a wave of unstoppable destruction.
Ari sank to his knees, staring up at the rift as the world he knew burned.
"This is…" He couldn't finish the sentence. His voice broke. "This is the end, isn't it?"
For a moment, the camera caught his trembling face against a backdrop of fire and falling machines.
Then a shadow landed behind him.
The shadow behind Ari moved too fast for him to register. One moment he was kneeling, shaking, staring into the burning sky—
and the next a massive hand seized the back of his coat and lifted him off the ground like a rag doll. Leaving no time, not even for a peep, the shadow hurled him across the rooftop.
He hit a metal vent with a sickening crack, sliding to the edge of the building as the rooftop around him shook from another distant blast. The camera—still somehow upright—caught his limp form sprawled against the concrete, blood trickling from his temple.
Ari didn't remember being thrown.
He only remembered the impact — his ribs folding inward as his body slammed against a metal vent, the sound bursting from his lungs like a broken whistle. The rooftop spun. His vision blurred. Warm blood slid past his eyelid and pooled at his jaw.
The camera, still balanced, caught everything. Smoke drifted across the lens as the first armored demon — one of the greenish-gray brutes in black and silver plate — stepped into view. Its heavy armor steamed with heat, runic etchings glowing faintly along the edges. Its fingers flexed around a massive blade, eager for more carnage.
A second presence dropped from the sky behind it.
This one floated — robed in black and purple, tall and gaunt, its face covered by a bone-like mask etched with glowing violet lines. The air around it hummed. These were the higher rankers, the ones Ari's fogged mind could only think of as generals.
The robed demon's voice cut the air like sharpened glass.
"Have we located the target yet?"
The brute shook its head, armor clattering like grinding stone. "Not yet. The city is being emptied. Nothing remains when the rift closes. Orders from the Blightborn."
"Then finish this.
The robed demon's eyes glowed brighter beneath the mask. "No survivors. No traces."
With a crack of displaced air, both demons launched upward — disappearing into the smoke-blotted sky.
The rooftop camera kept rolling.
The city below writhed in chaos. Flames climbed skyscrapers like grasping hands. Entire districts collapsed into themselves as demons flooded every street. The grunts — both the massive armored ones and the nimble bluish-white variants — swarmed storefronts, labs, banks, and markets.
They broke into vaults, tore apart military vehicles, yanked technology from ruins by the crate, and carried bodies — living and dead — off into the rift like spoils.
Above them, the robed generals drifted, orchestrating the assault, tearing open sealed bunkers with gestures, guiding lower demons with booming commands that shook windows and ruptured eardrums.
Nurmix wasn't being attacked.
It was being harvested.
Ari let out a faint groan, his consciousness slipping. His hand twitched weakly against the concrete. His vision had narrowed to a tunnel of shapes and shadows.
He wasn't sure if he was dying… or already dead.
Then something stepped between him and the firelight.
A small shape.
Human-sized.
Cloaked in shadow.
It wasn't a demon.
But it wasn't entirely human either.
The figure knelt beside him, placing a cool hand over Ari's chest. His pain dulled instantly, like someone turning off a switch. Ari tried to speak — to ask who they were — but the figure shook its head slowly.
The figure lifted Ari effortlessly, cradling him with inhuman strength. With one last glance at the burning city, it stepped back — and vanished into the smoke, disappearing from the rooftop without disturbing a single ember.
The camera captured everything.
And everything that followed.
The demons began retreating toward the rift in organized waves, dragging their stolen loot behind them. Crates of weapons, piles of tech, entire storefronts ripped from their frames — all carried upward in a nightmarish chain.
The bluish-white grunts scampered up the sides of buildings, carrying boxes of stolen data cores. The armored brutes hauled shattered vehicles and ammunition crates. The robed generals floated above them all, pulling shimmering sigils apart, collapsing structures with lazy gestures.
As the last of their forces ascended, the rift began to shrink — its blinding white center contracting like an eye narrowing in satisfaction.
The city went quiet for the first time.
Only the low hum of the rift remained.
Then —
It expanded.
A sudden violent surge outward — the rift ballooning hundreds of feet in diameter in less than a second, its edges cracking the air like thunder made of light. Wind roared upward. Debris lifted from the streets. Flames bent toward the sky.
The camera caught the shockwave.
The rift pulsed once — bright enough to turn everything white.
Then it collapsed inward, detonating with a deafening, concussive blast that rippled through the entire city.
And then, finally —
Static.