The morning sun spilled through the cracked classroom window, its amber fingers crawling over desks and restless students. A sudden CRACK! sliced the dull hum—the window shuddered as something slammed into it, leaving a spiderweb fracture. But the noise was swallowed by the chaos around, ignored by everyone but one.

Stone.

Perched in the far corner, cheek propped on his hand, he watched the fracture with ghostly green eyes — sharp, cold, cutting through the noise like a blade. His messy curls fell across his forehead, framing a face that was more thoughtful than his classmates cared to see.

"Whoever took care of that bird as an egg must have dropped it more than once," he muttered under his breath, eyes still locked on the cracked glass.

The classroom was a storm of chatter, laughter, and tension — a boiling pot of rumors about the upcoming Qualifiers Round. Groups clustered like pack animals, whispering, shouting, waiting for the day that would decide everything.

Stone's eyes settled on one group, their faces twisting as they caught his gaze.

"It's him... the one whose mom was hospitalized…"

"What kind of disease could do that?"

They sneered like vultures smelling weakness.

Stone didn't flinch. He was used to it.

He pulled out his phone, checking the time—9:21. The teacher was late, the room still a mess of energy and nerves.

Suddenly, the door slammed open, sucking the noise out of the room. All eyes snapped to the doorway.

Ben Katana stood there, pale and gasping like he'd just raced through a storm. The class quickly buzzed back to life, but Stone's gaze stayed locked on his best friend.

Ben shut the door behind him with a sharp click, hurried forward, and slammed his hands on Stone's desk, beads of sweat tracing paths down his face.

"Yo, Stone, it's—it's today... the Qualifiers Round." He wheezed, struggling for breath.

Stone raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Ben swallowed, trying again. "I couldn't make the preparations... my calendar changed, and—"

Stone cut him off with a smirk. "You forgot, didn't you?"

Ben groaned but nodded.

"Don't worry," Stone said, leaning back, voice cool, "I already handled it two days ago. Match registration? Done."

Ben looked both exhausted and impressed.

Stone's eyes drifted back to the cracked window. "That championship will be ours. That is our fate. And those other fools, will lose to us. That us their gate."

Ben grinned wide, shaking his head. "Win ?....let them keep dreaming"

---

Later that day, the air thickened with tension—not from school, but from the creatures skulking in the shadows. Stone and Ben moved like whispers, ghosts of death stalking their prey.

A pack of demons, twisted and snarling, lunged from the alleyway, red eyes burning like hellfire.

Ben cracked his knuckles, flashing a mischievous grin. "Ready to get messy, Stone?"

Stone's lips curled. "Always."

Ben darted forward first—his fists moving like a blur, striking sinew and bone with brutal precision. Each punch echoed, a symphony of destruction.

Stone followed, his movements fluid and sharp. His eyes flared green with a sudden burst of energy. Magic swirled around his hands—a gleaming emerald glow that seared through demon flesh. He unleashed a wave of searing light, sending two creatures crashing into the wall.

"Nice shot," Ben laughed, ducking a swipe.

Stone chuckled, dodging a claw swipe. "Not bad yourself. But I'm just getting started."

Together, they danced through the fight, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine. Jokes flew between blows.

"Hey, Ben, you sure you're not rusty? Missed that one by a mile."

Ben grinned. "Just letting you take the spotlight."

A demon lunged at Ben, teeth bared. Stone twisted, intercepting with a whip of emerald energy that sent the creature reeling.

"Got your back, as always."

Ben's grin faltered, a rare flicker of seriousness crossing his face. "You always have mine."

The last demon fell, writhing in a pool of light and shadows.

Breathing hard, the two friends exchanged a look — equal parts exhaustion and exhilaration.

"Race you back to my place," Ben challenged, already moving.

Stone laughed. "You're on."

---

Stone's apartment smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, soft light spilling from the windows. His mother stood in the kitchen, hands trembling slightly as she set out a modest birthday cake. Her green eyes were gentle and fierce, carrying the weight of secrets Stone knew too well.

Ben kicked off his shoes and grinned at Stone. "Happy birthday, ma'am. You survived another year of this idiot."

Stone rolled his eyes. "She's too patient."

His mother smiled, eyes flicking between the two boys. "Thank you, Ben. You're always welcome here."

Ben nodded, eyes warm. "Wouldn't miss it."

The room hummed with quiet laughter and warmth, a fragile bubble holding back the storm to come.

The arena wasn't real — at least, not like the world outside. Neon grids flickered beneath their feet, towering holographic spires split the sky, and the air buzzed with raw, electric tension.

Welcome to Neon Genesis, the virtual battlefield where the strongest survived.

Ten thousand players dropped into the digital wasteland, avatars flashing with weapons and armor as diverse as their masters' wills.

Stone's green eyes glowed faintly beneath his headset, fingers dancing over controls with cold precision. His avatar moved like a shadow — lean, swift, deadly.

Beside him, Ben's character cracked his knuckles. "Time to remind these rookies why we're the legends."

Stone smirked. "Legends, huh? More like ghosts they'll never catch."

The countdown ended.

Three... Two... One... Drop!

They plunged into chaos.

Stone's fingers snapped through the controls, weaving between neon shards of broken buildings and glowing debris. His magic flared — emerald arcs of energy lashing out, striking down opponents with surgical precision.

Behind him, Ben fought like a whirlwind — fists blazing with cybernetic fury, each strike shattering armor, breaking bones, earning cheers from distant spectators.

The first wave came crashing — a team of three called ShadowFangs, ruthless and fast.

Stone whispered, "Left flank."

Ben pivoted, diving into the fray, fists colliding with claws in a shower of sparks.

Stone unleashed a sweeping blast, the emerald light slicing through the air, cutting down two enemies before the last one fled.

"Nice hit," Ben said, wiping sweat. "They won't forget that."

They pushed forward, every second a blur of gunfire, magic, and close-quarter combat.

Stone's mind was a razor—calculating angles, anticipating moves, reading the battlefield like a maestro.

Ben grinned wildly as he tore through another squad. "Who's next?"

The digital crowd roared. Names flashed — Crimson Viper, Iron Wolf, Phantom Reaper — fierce warriors hungry for glory.

But Stone and Ben moved as one, a perfect storm of speed and power.

The field thinned. Ten players remained.

Stone and Ben exchanged a glance — a silent promise.

They would make it.

They had to.

---

Back in the real world, the glow from the monitors cast sharp shadows over their faces.

Ben punched the air. "Made it. Top ten. Just like we planned."

Stone exhaled slowly, heart still pounding. "Next step — home."

---

The night air was cool when they arrived at Stone's apartment, the city lights flickering like distant stars.

Inside, the scent of cinnamon and vanilla greeted them, a fragile comfort against the dark storm gathering just beyond the walls.

Stone's mother smiled, the kind of smile that could light up the darkest night.

For a moment, everything felt right.

But deep down Stone felt that something was going to unfold soon...something bad..

ignoring his instincts..."wow mom...you're really letting loose in the kitchen"he smiled.

Ben added...a smile on his Face" You're a really good cook....bet the neighbours are drouling outside the windows..."

"oh thank you Ben"she appreciated...her warm smile burning brighter as she watched them head up the stairs....

But deep down she could feel it...a subtle feeling that something was wrong.....

The soft clink of plates and quiet hum of conversation filled the small dining room. The flicker of candlelight cast dancing shadows across the table, tracing worn faces and trembling hands that still held onto fragile hope.

Stone and Ben sat across from each other, a modest meal between them—simple but enough. The scent of cinnamon and roast lingered, a delicate reminder of something warm, something human.

"Man," Ben said, leaning back with a grin, "that last round was insane. I swear, my heart nearly jumped outta my chest when Crimson Viper tried to flank us."

Stone chuckled, reaching for a piece of bread. "Yeah, and you missed every shot trying to catch him."

Ben shot him a playful glare. "Hey, I was distracting them. You know, teamwork."

Stone smirked. "Sure, sure. 'Teamwork.'"

Their laughter filled the room—easy, familiar, like it always had been.

But then Ben shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh, hey, I gotta hit the bathroom. Give me a sec."

Stone nodded, eyes still bright from the adrenaline of the match.

Ben stood and slipped out, the door closing softly behind him.

Stone's mother sat quietly, her gaze narrowing just a fraction as she watched the empty doorway.

"Stone," she said, voice low, almost a whisper, "there's something wrong with Ben."

Stone waved a hand dismissively. "Mom, you worry too much. Ben's my best friend. He's got my back, always."

She sighed, reaching across the table, fingers brushing his hand. "Trust is one thing. But something's off. I can feel it."

Stone pulled his hand away gently, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. "You don't know him like I do. You don't get to judge."

Her eyes sharpened. "And you don't get to be blind."

The tension thickened, hanging heavy like storm clouds ready to burst.

Stone stood abruptly, the chair scraping sharply against the floor. "I'm going to my room."

The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment.

Minutes passed.

Then—a faint sound.

A strangled gasp, harsh and unnatural.

Stone's heart slammed against his ribs.

He bolted from his room, every muscle coiled, senses sharpened to a razor's edge.

The dining room came into view, and Stone froze.

There, sprawled on the floor, was his mother.

Blood pooled beneath her like a dark stain spreading over fragile hope.

Her breathing was shallow, ragged.

Stone dropped to his knees, trembling hands catching her fragile form.

"Mom!" His voice cracked, raw and desperate.

She opened her eyes, green fading to a pale flicker.

"Stone…" she whispered, struggling to smile through pain. "Run…"

Stone's gaze snapped up.

Ben stood just beyond, tall and cold.

In his hand—a sword, its blade slick and dripping with blood.

Stone's breath hitched.

"What have you done?" His voice shattered, eyes flaring with wrath, glowing ghostly green like a storm unleashed.

He lunged forward, fury driving him—but his legs buckled.

The world spun.

Darkness crept in.

Ben's voice cut through the haze, cruel and calm.

"Poison," he said smoothly. "I slipped it into the food. Even your mother didn't have the strength to fight."

Stone's vision blurred.

He sank to the floor, rage burning wild even as poison clawed at his veins.

Ben knelt beside him, whispering coldly.

"Welcome to the end of your world, Stone."