Chapter 2: The World After

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1

Fifty years ago:

Human resources began to dwindle.

The birth rate dropped. Epidemics, hunger, and the relentless grind of daily survival wore us thin. Cities emptied, rural towns vanished. America felt hollowed out, like a house after the movers leave. I remember walking past boarded-up diners, the smell of burnt coffee and loss lingering in the air.

Twenty-four years ago:

Demons descended upon the world.

Nobody knew where they came from—out of the sky, the earth, or nightmares nobody ever remembered. The first attack hit Atlanta, and within days, New York, Chicago, Houston. The news was frantic; then, the news was gone.

Humanity suffered a massacre unlike any before, with barely more than ten million people left alive.

I remember watching the population counter tick down like some cruel game. Most survivors huddled in shattered towns or clung to the ruins of cities. The world’s old boundaries—state lines, interstate highways—meant nothing now. Survival was our only measure.

Fortunately, more and more people began awakening abilities, and at last, we managed to defend a single city.

Nobody knew why abilities appeared. Maybe evolution, maybe desperation, maybe something the demons brought with them. But one by one, people changed. My hands started to spark with blue flame. The first time, I thought I’d been electrocuted. The second time, I realized I might live to see tomorrow. My neighbor could move like the wind. Together, we held onto a patch of ground that would become our last city—New Bastion, Texas. The air always smelled faintly of gun oil and hope.

Thus, humanity entered the apocalyptic era.

The old world was gone, and this one ran on sweat, skill, and a little bit of luck. Kids grew up playing in fortified schoolyards, everyone carried a weapon, and our holidays were reminders of the dead—not celebrations of the living.

Abilities are divided into five levels:

B-level, A-level, S-level, SS-level, and SSS-level.

They tried calling them something fancy at first—Sentinel Tiers, Heroic Index—but in the end, everyone just used the letters. Simpler that way.

I am one of the highest, an SSS-level ability user.

The only SSS-level in New Bastion for over two decades. It got lonely at the top, and dangerous too. I tried to hide it, sometimes, but the city’s hope was always pinned on me.

To ensure the survival of our species, I founded the Ability Association and set strict rules for humanity. No weapons inside the city walls. No infighting among users. Supplies rationed and shared. Sometimes I enforced it with a smile, sometimes with a fist—and sometimes with both.

Afterward, I volunteered to guard the border.

I remember signing the paperwork myself in the little conference room over the firehouse, Leonard pouring me a lukewarm cup of coffee and shaking my hand. "You’re the only one who can do this, Marcus," he said. "We’ll handle the rest."

Alone, with only a sword, I protected the peace at the edge of our last refuge.

Night after night, I patrolled the border fences. Sometimes coyotes howled, sometimes it was something worse. The city behind me glowed with feeble light, and I stood between them and the monsters waiting in the dark. My sword became my only friend—cold steel, American-made, with nicks from every fight I’d survived.

As time passed,

The pain slowly faded.

You learn not to remember the names of those you lose. The ache in your gut dulls to a throb, then a whisper. New generations were born who never knew the world before.

Humans began to live in peace once more.

Children chased each other in rebuilt parks. People celebrated birthdays again, even if the cakes were made from ration bars. For a little while, I let myself believe we’d finally found a home again.