The world did not hesitate.
Within hours of the Global Military Draft announcement, governments moved with a speed that felt inhuman.
Helicopters thundered over cities,
broadcasting the same message in dozens of languages.
Humvees, armored trucks, and transport buses crowded highways like veins pumping blood.
Massive screens flickered in every city center, displaying QR codes and emergency instructions.
DRAFT NOTICE — REPORT TO NEAREST TRAINING CENTER IMMEDIATELY
NO EXCEPTIONS.
TIME IS CRITICAL.
United States
Parking lots became enlistment halls.
High school gyms became triage and registration centers.
Shopping malls turned into uniform distribution hubs.
Military police lined the streets, guiding panicked citizens toward designated zones.
A line stretched five city blocks outside a converted stadium in Chicago.
People, students, mechanics, teachers, truck drivers stood shoulder to shoulder, waiting to be processed.
"Next!"
"Step forward!"
"Age?"
"Medical conditions?"
"Can you run a mile?"
"Can you carry forty pounds?"
Clipboards, scanners, blood tests, rapid fitness checks.
No time to argue.
No time to think.
Only forward.
India
The largest mobilization in human history unfolded in mere hours.
Trains packed with recruits thundered toward makeshift bases outside Mumbai and Delhi.
Families hugged sons and daughters on crowded platforms, crying and whispering prayers.
Workers who had never touched a weapon filled parade grounds big enough to be seen from the sky.
Europe
Buses rolled through Paris, Berlin, Madrid, Warsaw picking up thousands at a time.
Former train depots became drill camps.
Old Cold War bunkers reopened overnight.
The EU Defense Council unified command for the first time in its existence.
Africa
Recruitment tents spread across open fields.
Medical teams armed with tablets scanned candidates rapidly.
Volunteers filled the lines faster than the officers could manage.
In Lagos, a man shouted,
"Let them come! We didn't survive our own wars to lose to aliens!"
China
A mobilization machine like no other roared to life.
Factories shifted instantly to manufacturing armor plates, ammunition, and drones.
Millions reported to their nearest People's Militia office within the first hour.
A single colonel summed it up.
"We'll turn cities into fortresses."
South America
Stadiums converted into recruitment megacenters.
Brazilian, Argentinian, and Chilean officers worked side by side.
Entire neighborhoods walked together to enlist.
Wherever humans lived, crowds formed, lines grew, orders barked, and resolve hardened.
It didn't matter the language.
It didn't matter the flag.
It didn't matter the politics.
The world had shifted from chaos…
to one with purpose.
This was no longer just survival.
This was preparation for war.
The shelter vibrated from distant explosions.
Families packed emergency bags.
Draft officers moved through the halls taking names, scanning IDs, marking lists.
Aiden stood off to the side, watching soldiers hand out registration papers.
His mother approached him slowly, fear etched into every line of her face.
"Aiden… don't." Her voice broke. "Please, don't even think it."
His father stepped beside her, silent, jaw clenched.
His sister grabbed his arm. "You can't go out there, Aiden. You saw what they did. You barely made it here!"
His little brother looked up at him, eyes swollen.
"You'll die if you go."
Aiden took a long breath, steadying himself.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted to say he'd remain safe with them.
He wanted to be normal, to pretend the world outside wasn't collapsing.
But that wasn't reality anymore.
"I have to go," he said quietly.
"No!" His mother's voice cracked like glass. "We just got you back!"
"I know." Aiden swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment crushing his ribs harder than the drone blast earlier.
"And that's why I have to fight. Because not everyone got their family back today."
Silence.
His father stepped closer. "Son… you're brave. But bravery doesn't stop bullets. You're eighteen. You're not a soldier."
"You're right," Aiden said. "I'm not."
He looked around the shelter at the terrified families, the injured civilians, the children crying into their mothers' arms.
"I'm just someone who refuses to let monsters decide our future."
His father opened his mouth to argue, but Aiden stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.
His father stiffened then crushed him back with desperate strength.
Aiden whispered, voice trembling, "Dad… someone has to stand up. Someone has to go first. If I don't… then someone else's kid has to."
A tear rolled down his father's cheek.
His mother clung to him.
"Aiden, please… I already lost the world I knew today. I can't lose you too."
Aiden pulled back gently, holding her hands.
He inhaled once more deep, steady.
Then he said it, the line he'd grown up hearing in every American movie, the line that had shaped heroes for generations.
"If we give up now… we lose everything. But if we stand up and fight, even scared, even broken...then we're still America."
His sister covered her mouth, sobbing.
His father looked away, eyes shining.
His mother closed her eyes as if the words cut and soothed at the same time.
Finally, his father placed a trembling hand on Aiden's shoulder.
"Come home," he said. "That's an order."
Aiden nodded, voice cracking. "I'll try."
He walked toward the soldiers setting up the recruitment point in the shelter.
A long line had already formed neighbors, friends, strangers.
Some limped.
Some shook from fear.
Some had no idea how to hold a gun.
But they stood.
Aiden approached the registration officer a woman with dark circles under her eyes, dust in her hair, and a sidearm strapped loosely to her vest.
"Name?" she asked.
"Aiden Holt."
"Age?"
"Eighteen."
"You volunteering, or responding to draft summons?"
"Volunteering."
She paused, looking up at him. "You sure, kid? Once you sign this, you're in the grinder. No backing out."
Aiden nodded. "I'm sure."
She handed him a digital pad.
He signed. A blue stamp flashed across the screen:
REGISTERED — HUMAN DEFENSE FRONT
REPORT FOR INITIAL PROCESSING: 3 HOURS
Aiden felt something shift inside him.
Not fear.
Not pride.
Something deeper.
Purpose.
As he stepped away from the table, collecting his temporary ID badge, the System stirred inside him like a sleeping animal raising its head.
[User action detected: Voluntary enlistment.]
Aiden exhaled softly. "Yeah. I told you I'd do it."
[Acknowledged.]
A pause.
Then the System's tone changed still calm, but heavier.
[Enlistment accelerates risk factors significantly.]
[Probability of early combat exposure: 94%.]
"I know," Aiden whispered.
[User's chosen path aligns with long-term species survival directive.]
[Authorization to unlock Training Protocol Phase Two upon first physical evaluation.]
Aiden blinked. "Phase Two?"
[Condition: Survive basic training.]
He smirked faintly. "You always know how to motivate someone."
[Motivation unnecessary. Survival mandatory.]
Aiden looked toward the shelter entrance the path that led back up into a world under fire.
A world he was now sworn to defend.
People around him whispered doubts, prayers, curses, hopes.
He took a deep breath.
And stepped forward.
Toward training.
Toward war.
Toward becoming someone capable of fighting back.