The sun rose like it always did, casting golden light over the restless cities, silent deserts, and frozen tundras. But this morning was different. The world had changed while people slept.

From the smallest villages to the densest urban jungles, humans awoke with something new inside them — a flicker of power, a pulse of energy that bent reality just slightly around their fingertips. Some could barely control it, their auras faint and unstable. Others burned bright with strength no one could deny.

Moha lay still in his small room, heart pounding in his chest. His skin shimmered with a faint light, barely noticeable but undeniably there. He didn’t understand what had happened overnight, but something inside him knew that his life, and the world’s, was forever altered.

He sat up slowly and stared out the window. The streets below were already buzzing with people — some glowing, others terrified. News reports poured in from every corner of the globe, flashing images of chaos and awe: people lifting cars with their bare hands, healing wounds with a touch, conjuring fire from thin air. Governments scrambled, their control slipping away like sand through fingers.

But Moha wasn’t afraid. A strange calm filled him. He felt… different.

Far away, in the endless ice of Antarctica, a fortress stood like a shard of darkness frozen in time. Inside, Mordai stood silently, watching a holographic map of the world flickering with battle zones and power surges.

Beside him, Zarek remained still — the quiet shadow to Mordai’s storm. He spoke only when spoken to, but his eyes missed nothing.

“Out of the seven… maybe eight, if you count the boy in America,” Mordai said, his voice low and calm, “who do you think is the strongest?”

Zarek paused, folding his arms as he studied the map. “Strength alone doesn’t decide. Control, patience, vision… that’s what matters. Power without those is a weapon with no master.”

Mordai smiled faintly — a thin curve, like a blade gleaming in cold light. “You’re not the weakest,” he said simply, and with that, a subtle ripple of dark energy flickered from him, like the first crack in a glacier.

In America, Moha moved through the city streets, eyes sharp and mind racing. He wasn’t just a teenager anymore. Somewhere deep down, he was beginning to understand the role fate had handed him.

People whispered about the Great Powers — seven, maybe eight people scattered across the planet with strength that seemed limitless. No one knew them well yet. Their existence was still a secret wrapped in myth and fear. But Moha had made his own decision: he would be the King of America, not by blood or title, but by strength and will.

He gathered those who would follow him — twenty of the strongest souls he could find, people hungry to grow and fight alongside him. Some were unsure, others hungry for power, but all were loyal.

“We won’t fight wars we don’t need,” Moha told them, his voice steady despite the weight on his shoulders. “We build. We grow. We become stronger — together.”

One of his allies, a woman named Lila with flames dancing at her fingertips, looked worried. “But the others… the Great Powers in Europe, Africa, the Middle East — they’re already at war.”

Moha’s gaze hardened. “That’s not our fight. Not yet. We survive. We prepare. And when the time comes, we act.”

Across the Atlantic, the European battlefield was a nightmare. Two Great Powers clashed in a storm of destruction. One was missing an arm, but his fury had not died. He tore through enemies like a force of nature, shaking the earth with every blow.

A soldier watched the fight from a shattered rooftop, whispering to himself, “He’s unstoppable… but how long can he last?”

In the Middle East, chaos ruled. A figure cloaked in shadows watched events unfold with cold eyes. Plans twisted in silence, alliances shifting like desert sands.

Back in Antarctica, Mordai and Zarek stood before their ancient screens, observing the world’s slow unraveling.

“The game has begun,” Zarek said quietly.

Mordai nodded. “And we will be ready.”

Moha returned to his headquarters as the night settled. He stood by a window, watching the city lights flicker beneath the stars. The glow of power surrounded the world, an invisible battlefield forming in the minds and hearts of men.

“This is only the beginning,” Moha whispered.

The world no longer belonged to governments or armies. It belonged to those who wielded power — the Kings who had awakened.

⸻

Moha’s days blurred into nights as he trained and planned. Each morning he tested his strength, pushing his limits until his body burned with exhaustion. His aura pulsed stronger, shifting colors — blue, then gold, sometimes a fierce crimson.

His team grew tighter, warriors and healers and strategists all bound by their loyalty to him. Together, they drilled, sparred, and shared their secrets. Trust was hard won in this new world, but Moha’s vision held them together.

One evening, while training, Moha caught Lila staring at him — her fire flickering uncertainly.

“Do you ever wonder what this all means?” she asked.

Moha smiled, wiping sweat from his brow. “It means we’re meant for more than just surviving. We’re meant to lead. To change everything.”

Lila nodded slowly. “But what if the others don’t want to stop fighting?”

“We’ll be ready,” Moha said. “Because no matter what happens, we don’t lose ourselves.”

⸻

Thousands of miles away, Mordai sat alone in his frozen throne room, the cold biting through the thick walls. The world’s chaos buzzed around him, but he remained still.

Zarek entered quietly. “You’ve been silent.”

Mordai’s eyes gleamed. “I watch and wait. Strength is not just what you show. It’s what you keep hidden.”

Zarek nodded. “And the boy in America?”

Mordai chuckled softly — a sound like cracking ice. “He’s young. Dangerous. But the strongest? That remains to be seen.”

⸻

As weeks passed, rumors spread. Powers grew. Battles erupted. The world teetered on the edge of a war no one could stop.

Moha’s resolve only hardened.

He was not just a boy with power. He was the King America needed — whether the world accepted it or not.

⸻

And somewhere, deep beneath the ice, Mordai smiled.

The game was on.