The night felt alive, an oppressive weight that pressed in from all sides, smothering every trace of light. The alley stretched endlessly before him, narrow and suffocating, its walls closing in with each frantic step. The man's breath was shallow, his heart a frantic drum in his chest, each beat louder than the last. He had to keep running. He had no choice.

"Help! Please! Someone, anyone—" His voice cracked as he shouted, his words ragged and desperate.

Behind him, a sound—slow and deliberate—followed like a shadow. Footsteps, measured and unhurried, as if his pursuer knew the chase was over.

He could hear it now, the faint scrape of leather soles on wet pavement, echoing in the stillness. The man's stomach churned with the knowledge that he was being hunted.

The alley stretched on, endless, like a tunnel. He stumbled, his foot catching on an unseen obstruction, and he fell hard, pain shooting up his legs as he scraped his palms against the cold, unforgiving ground. His breath came in gasps, his body aching, but there was no time to stop. He had to keep moving.

But then—

There was a sound. A rustling, almost too quiet to hear, but unmistakable. A figure emerged from the shadows.

-Conrad-

He was tall, his presence looming like a dark storm cloud. His athletic frame, dressed in sleek, dark clothing, was a stark contrast against the pale glow of the streetlights. His eyes—icy blue and piercing—glinted with a calculated malice, cold and unfeeling. His hand moved to the pocket watch hanging from his coat, flicking it open with a soft, metallic click.

"You're not going anywhere." His voice was smooth, devoid of emotion, as though the man's terror was nothing more than a passing amusement to him.

"Please…" The man's voice broke, his throat tightening as he gazed up at the killer. "Why are you doing this to me— I didn't do anything to you!"

Conrad's lips curled into a faint, almost predatory smile. "It doesn't matter. You're here, and that's enough." His eyes flicked down to the knife in his gloved hand, the steel reflecting the dim light. With a fluid motion, he raised it, savoring the moment.

The man's breath caught in his throat, his body frozen with fear. "Is this it? Is this how I die?" His voice was barely a whisper, as if saying it aloud would make it real.

Conrad's smirk widened. "Yes. Yes, it is." The words were a death sentence, cold and final.

-The blade came down-

-But in the blink of an eye-something shifted-

A shadow moved, impossibly fast, appearing out of the mist that clung to the alley like a second skin. A hand—massive and dark—shot out from the darkness, gripping Conrad's wrist with a force that could have shattered bone. The knife froze in midair, just inches from the man's throat.

For a moment, there was silence. Both men—no, all three—paused, frozen in disbelief.

Conrad's piercing gaze flicked to the figure behind him, and for the first time, something resembling uncertainty flashed in his eyes. He pulled at his wrist, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

The man, still on the ground, could only stare in awe and fear as the shadowed figure loomed over them both. It was enormous, a hulking presence that swallowed the light. Its features were hidden, shrouded in the fog, but those eyes—those glowing, ethereal eyes—were unmistakable. They glinted with an ancient, unyielding power.

"Who are you?" Conrad demanded, his voice now tinged with genuine fear.

The figure said nothing. It didn't need to. The silence that followed was enough to speak volumes.

With a flick of its wrist, the figure's grip tightened around Conrad's arm. There was a sickening crack as the knife snapped, its pieces falling to the ground like broken promises.

Conrad snarled, rage flooding back into his veins. He swung his other arm at the figure with brutal force. But it was as if the figure had anticipated the move. Its hand shot out, catching Conrad's fist midair, twisting his arm with bone-crushing strength. The sound of snapping joints rang out as Conrad let out a strangled cry of pain.

Before he could react, the figure hurled him across the alley with terrifying ease. Conrad slammed into the wall with a sickening thud, crumpling to the ground in a heap. His breath was ragged, his body barely able to move, and his once-proud demeanor shattered.

The man, still trembling, could barely comprehend what he had just witnessed. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was barely a whisper. "T-thank you…" His words were broken, raw, filled with a gratitude he couldn't fully express.

The figure turned, its glowing eyes locking with his for just a moment. Then, as quickly as it had come, the figure stepped into the fog, disappearing like a wisp of smoke. The air was still, the only sound the distant wail of sirens growing nearer.

The man sat there, shaking, his mind racing. What had just happened? Who—or what—had saved him? Was it a monster? A hero? Or something far worse?

For the moment, he didn't care. All that mattered was that he was alive. For now.

Far from the city's vibrant hum, a building stood isolated in a forgotten corner of the world. Its exterior was weathered, its walls heavy with time and secrecy. Inside, five figures were gathered, their voices weaving through the quiet air like threads in a tapestry. They moved with purpose, their casual demeanor masking the incredible power each of them wielded.

Suddenly, the ground trembled. Faint at first, the vibrations grew steadily, resonating like a distant drumbeat. The air became dense, charged with a presence that felt more like a force of nature than a person.

The five paused mid-conversation, their instincts sharpening like a blade. They exchanged silent glances, their senses attuned to the approach of something—or someone—immense.

The footsteps grew louder, each one a seismic event that seemed to echo through the building's very foundation.

Then the door creaked open, and he stepped inside.

A towering figure filled the doorway, his silhouette outlined against the faint light outside. With deliberate ease, he reached up and removed the thick cloak draped over his shoulders, revealing his full form.

The air seemed to shift, as though the room itself was adjusting to accommodate his presence.

"Damon," one of the figures said, breaking the silence. His voice carried a mixture of frustration and familiarity, the kind reserved for someone close. "Why were you late?"

Damon let out a low, rumbling chuckle, the sound resonating like distant thunder. His voice was deep, calm, and unshakable.

"Oh, I ran into a situation on my way here. A man was being attacked, so I decided to help him out."

"Help?" The speaker raised an eyebrow, his tone skeptical.

Another voice chimed in, smooth and light, tinged with amusement. "No, let's be real—he crushed the attacker in an instant. That sounds more like Damon."

The faintest smirk touched Damon's lips as he set a large bag on the table before them. His sheer size dominated the room, but his demeanor carried a surprising warmth.

-Damon-

Member of the Genesis of the Six.

Ability: Unparalleled Strength.

Figure: A giant, standing at 8 feet tall, with a physique that could only be described as a force of nature.

Age: 35.

The tension in the room eased, giving way to a more relaxed atmosphere. One of the figures, lean and sharp-featured, picked up the bag and examined its contents with a satisfied nod.

"Thanks, Damon. With this, we're going to have a great meal tonight."

-Noah-

Member of the Genesis of the Six.

Ability: The perfect human, a master of all disciplines, though not the best in any single one.

Figure: 6'2", lean and elegant, with a strikingly beautiful face and pale, sharp features.

Age: 27.

"Noah, could you tell Sherphina to turn off the background music? It's getting ridiculous," another figure quipped from across the room, his voice dry yet teasing.

A woman sitting nearby rolled her eyes theatrically, crossing her arms. "Fine, fine. I'll stop," she said, her tone playfully exasperated. She waved her hand, and the subtle, almost imperceptible melody that had been playing in the background faded into silence.

-Sherphina-

Member of the Genesis of the Six.

Abilities: Sound manipulation, stats amplification, and the world's greatest singer and dancer. Her voice and movements can inspire or devastate.

Figure: 5'7", slender and toned, her every movement exuding elegance and precision.

Age: 25.

"Well, that entrance was pretty over the top," another voice said, this one belonging to the youngest of the group. He leaned back in his chair, a knowing grin playing on his lips.

-Adrian-

Member of the Genesis of the Six.

Ability: A mind that surpasses supercomputers in speed and accuracy.

Figure: 5'11", with a lean build and an effortlessly charming demeanor.

Age: 18.

As they settled back into their preparations, the room came alive with activity. Damon handed over the supplies, and the group worked with the seamless efficiency of a well-oiled machine.

"Cole, can you grab the ingredients from the counter?" Noah called out.

In an instant, the items were on the table, as if they had materialized from thin air.

"That was... fast," Noah remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.

-Cole-

Member of the Genesis of the Six.

Ability: Unparalleled Speed.

Figure: 6'0", lean and athletic, with a perpetual energy to his movements.

Age: 24.

"Zane, can you handle the prep work?" Noah added, gesturing to a pile of vegetables.

"On it," Zane replied, rolling up his sleeves. His hands moved with precision and purpose, each cut clean and efficient, as though he were wielding a weapon in battle rather than a kitchen knife.

-Zane-

Member of the Genesis of the Six.

Ability: Unparalleled skill in combat—both armed and unarmed.

Figure: 5'11", with perfectly balanced musculature designed for combat.

Age: 29.

This was the Genesis of the Six, a name whispered in the shadows, a force unknown to the world—for now. Their existence was a secret, their purpose yet to be revealed. But their time would come, and when it happens, the world would tremble.

The dinner table buzzed with the comforting sound of laughter and lighthearted conversation. Savoring the peace. Plates clinked, and banter flew between them, but then, all at once, the air shifted.

They felt it—an undeniable presence.

The Nightveil.

---

The Nightveil.

An event that began ten years after Damon's birth.

It wasn't an army of demons or a towering foe.

It was something far more sinister—a plague-like force that defied logic and understanding. Invisible and intangible to ordinary people, it brought instant death to anything it touched, masked as natural events: a sudden heart attack, a collapsing tree, or the aftermath of an earthquake. No one knew of its existence, save for the Genesis of the Six.

When the first Nightveil struck, the world was vast, composed of twelve continents:

Azoria

Bryston

Caelum

Drexara

Elyndor

Faloria

Gildara

Hypatia

Ithoria

Jorath

Kyros

Lysandra

But the Nightveil reduced that number to four.

Only Kyros, Azoria, Elyndor, and Gildara endured, and it was no coincidence. Damon, Noah, Sherphina, and Zane—their very presence repelled the Nightveil. As children, they hadn't understood why they were spared, nor the significance of their existence. They simply stayed in their homelands, clinging to family and hope, as the other eight continents fell to ruin. Survivors prayed, but the devastation left scars that would never heal.

-Present-

Cole leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs with a smug grin on his face.

"You're up this time, Cole. We're all wiped," Adrian said, setting his utensils down with a sigh. "You're fast enough to cross three continents before we can finish dessert."

Cole raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Oh, come on. Why don't you ask Sherphina? She may not be as fast as me, but she's no slouch either."

Sherphina shot him a sharp look. "Don't even start. We've been covering for you every time while you sit here cracking jokes. It's about time you did your part."

Cole raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright! No need to gang up on me. I'll handle it. Happy?"

Sherphina crossed her arms. "Ecstatic."

Without another word, Cole vanished in a blur, leaving nothing but a gust of wind and the faintest chuckle in his wake.

---

Cole moved faster than a heartbeat, covering three continents in mere moments. As always, the Nightveil dissipated the second he arrived—until he reached Kyros.

Something was wrong.

The Nightveil didn't vanish as it should. Instead, it twisted and writhed, taking on an eerie, almost living form. Though still unseen and unfelt by the ordinary eye, it seemed to move with purpose now.

Cole narrowed his eyes in confusion. "What the hell…"

As he punched at the writhing shape. It vanished. Encouraged, he began wiping out the rest until the continent was safe once more. But the strange phenomenon left a lingering unease in his mind.

---

When Cole returned to Gildara, greeted by Noah's casual grin.

"Fast as ever," Noah remarked, leaning back in his chair.

But Cole's expression was far from relaxed. Adrian noticed it immediately, his brows furrowing. "What happened?"

Cole hesitated, his usual cocky demeanor faltering. "Something weird," he finally said. "The Nightveil… it didn't disappear when I showed up in Kyros. Instead, it... changed. It started moving like it was alive."

The room fell silent, tension thickening as the others processed his words.

"You're saying it's evolving?" Zane asked, his voice calm but edged with concern.

"I don't know," Cole admitted. "But whatever it was, it didn't last long. I got rid of it."

Adrian leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "This could mean a lot of things. We need to figure out what's happening before it gets worse."

The atmosphere grew heavier, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them.

Sensing the shift, Cole flashed a confident grin and leaned back in his chair. "Relax. It's not that big a deal yet. I mean, come on—didn't take me long to clean it up, right?"

His words brought a flicker of ease, but the unease lingered. They all knew that whatever this was, it was just the beginning.