2025-08-11 00:49:29The rain had soaked through his clothes, but Jason Carter didn’t care anymore.
He walked with no direction, no umbrella, no shoes. His left foot dragged a little more than the right. Every step was a reminder not just of the beating, but of the shame. The humiliation and betrayal. They called him a monster. A wife beater. A murderer of his own child. The words played in his head like a cursed song. “This man beat his pregnant wife—” “She lost the baby because of him—” “Let the world see his real face—” Jason clenched his jaw. The cold had numbed his hands, but the sting in his chest refused to fade. He looked up at the sky, blinking raindrops from his lashes. A whisper escaped his lips. “Why didn’t I die…?” His voice was broken. Ragged. Like everything else about him. He staggered toward the neon-lit street ahead. The lights of downtown Chicago blurred through the downpour. Neon signs glowed in green and red. Cars honked in the distance, their tires slicing through puddles. People passed him, umbrellas up, heads down. No one looked at him. No one saw him. He wasn’t a man anymore. He was just trash in the rain. He paused outside a 24-hour convenience store. His reflection stared back at him from the glass — blood on his collar, mud on his face, hair soaked to his scalp. A joke of a man. Then the TV caught his eye. “BREAKING NEWS: Pregnant heiress suffers miscarriage after suspected domestic assault.” The screen showed grainy footage from earlier that day — at COEX Mall. There he was. On his knees. Screaming, bleeding, surrounded by a jeering crowd. His voice echoed faintly through the speakers: “I DIDN’T DO IT!” “This poor woman,” the anchor said, “has refused to comment further, but sources close to the family say they’ve officially severed ties with her husband, Jason Carter , following this tragic loss.” The news scrolled on. “Police have not confirmed charges, but public outcry is rising.” “Viral video shows him being dragged across the floor like an animal.” Jason stared. People inside the store glanced at him through the glass, then looked away. He stepped back. The world no longer wanted him. Even the truth had betrayed him. “I should’ve died…” He turned away, breath hitching. He couldn’t breathe. couldn't think. Couldn’t exist. CRAAACK! Lightning split the sky in a blinding white flash. BOOOM! Thunder followed, instant and deafening. Then everything went silent. A bolt of lightning — thick as a pillar — crashed directly into his chest. Jason ’s body lifted off the ground. Sparks burst across the pavement as his limbs convulsed mid-air. His body slammed into the concrete — lifeless, steaming, still. People screamed from the sidewalk. A man rushed forward. “Call an ambulance!” Someone else: “Is he… is he dead?!” But then— He moved. Slowly. Like waking from a long sleep. His hand twitched. Then his leg. Then, to everyone’s horror or wonder, Jason sat up. His shirt had burned open across his chest, revealing unscorched skin. No burns. No blood. His eyes flicked open. And they glowed. Not fully but Not brightly. Just a faint, golden hue pulsing from his irises like embers in a dying fire. He stood straight and steady. Breath calm. Everyone stepped back. “What the hell…?” “Did you see that? He should be… fried!” “He’s not human…” Suddenly — visions. They flooded his mind all at once. He clutched his head, groaning, staggering into an alley. There were flashes. A golden war spear. A throne room in flames. A goddess with silver eyes and laughter like poison. His own voice — deeper, godlike: “For centuries, I judged the wicked. I led empires. I waged wars on heavens…” Chains wrapped around a glowing figure, his former self — as gods cursed him, binding his powers. “You defied the Divine Order. For that, Ar-Zekar… you shall fall.” The sound of his own scream echoed. Then came darkness. A voice thundered through the void. “AR-ZEKAR, WAR GOD OF JUDGMENT — AWAKEN.” “You were cast to Earth. Forgotten. Bound by human flesh. But now, your time has come.” “Reclaim what was stolen.” “Trial One: Complete.” Jason ’s eyes snapped open again. His breath came heavy. Steam poured from his mouth. He looked at his hands. Something had changed. The pain, the exhaustion — they were still there. But under it… something new. A spark. A memory. A power. A loud cough pulled his attention. Behind a dumpster, a man groaned. Wrinkled skin, sunken eyes. A homeless man, barely breathing. No one else noticed. Jason walked over, slowly, like in a trance. He knelt. “Are you okay?” The man gasped. “C-cold…” Jason didn’t know why he did it. He just reached out and placed his hand on the man’s chest. A warm light glowed beneath his palm. The old man jolted. His eyes flew open, and his breath steadied. His color returned. He sat up. “I… I was dying…” “You’re healed,” Jason said quietly. A woman nearby screamed. “Did you see that?! He—he touched him and—!” Others turned. One man muttered, “That’s impossible…” The old man stared up at him. “You… You’re not normal, are you?” Jason didn’t answer. He was shaking. Something burned on his forearm — a golden sigil briefly glowed and vanished. He stumbled back into the rain. Breath ragged. Skin humming. Then the voice came again. [SYSTEM NOTICE: Trial 1 Complete.] [Trial 2 Initiated: Mastery of Will.] And then—blackout. His knees buckled. The last thing he saw was the clouds above swirling unnaturally… like even the sky had started to remember who he truly was.
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012
Washington D.C. – Federal CourthouseIt smelled like bleach, old paper, and the kind of authority that could crush a man without lifting a finger.Jason’s footsteps were slow and deliberate as he pushed the mop cart down the endless stretch of marble halls. The cart’s wheels gave a faint squeak every few steps, but otherwise, the building swallowed sound. His gray janitor’s uniform hung loose on his frame, his baseball cap shadowing his face. The laminated ID badge clipped to his chest gleamed under the fluorescent light — authentic enough to fool casual glances.The uniform was real. The badge was not.He reminded himself for the tenth time: This is infiltration, not vengeance. But the lie rang hollow in his own head.Because beneath the calm exterior, something inside him was already sharpening.Courtroom 3A loomed ahead. Jason slowed, pulse tightening. This was Hammond’s domain.Judge Malcolm Hammond — the man who had presided over Jason’s trial eighteen months ago.The man who had
011
Doctor’s Office – The Impossible Upper East Side – Private OB/GYN Clinic The walls were too white. Too quiet. Emily sat on the exam table in a backless gown, staring at the floor tiles like they could rearrange themselves into something that made sense. Her palms were clammy. Her heartbeat wasn’t steady. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t still be… Dr. Hendricks entered the room with a tablet in one hand and a look of professional confusion. Not concern. Just confusion. “Ms. Lee,” he said gently. “We just completed your scan.” Emily swallowed. “And?” He hesitated—just enough to make her breath catch. “You’re still pregnant.” Silence. “That’s not—” She gripped the paper sheet beneath her. “I lost it. Months ago. I—there was trauma. There was blood.” Dr. Hendricks tapped the screen. He rotated the tablet toward her. On the monitor was the ultrasound image. The usual grainy black-and-white blur, except… At the center pulsed something different. A glow. Faint, golden. Rhythmic.
010
Newark, New Jersey – Co-Working Space, 3rd FloorThe place still smelled like paint and ambition.Jason slid a new keycard into the lock of Suite 3B. The glass door clicked open. Inside: a few folding tables, unplugged monitors, an old coffee machine wheezing in the corner.“Not Olympus,” he muttered, “but it’ll do.”A soft ping from the System pulsed faintly in his ear.System Status: Temporal Stability – Level Green.Divine Threads Unspooling… Suggest Team Assembly.“Already on it,” Jason murmured.⸻Gabriel was first. Towering. Quiet. A face like carved stone.He didn’t speak right away—just nodded, dropped a duffel bag on the floor.“They said you died,” he finally said.“I got better,” Jason replied.Then came Jules—lanky, jittery, twirling a flash drive like a magician.“Okay, I heard rumors you tanked Wall Street and walked out of a fire. Either you’re insane or… I want in.”Jason raised an eyebrow. “How about both?”Last was Tammy. Mid-thirties. Soft smile. Wide eyes that shim
009
Downtown Chicago – Private Elevator, 77th FloorJason stood in the mirrored elevator, his hands in his coat pockets, staring at his reflection.There was something different about his eyes now, they were Sharper and Older.“Avery Cross,” he repeated under his breath.Tech mogul. Billionaire reclusive. Rose out of nowhere five years ago, just as certain digital currencies started vanishing without trace.The doors slid open with a soft chime.The penthouse looked nothing like what he expected. No chrome or minimalism. Instead it was silk drapes, velvet armchairs, and an odd warmth that didn’t feel like money. It felt… ancient.And then she stepped into view.The Goddess in Black SilkAvery Cross was stunning in a way that didn’t belong in this century. She wore a high-collared black silk blouse that clung like smoke, her jet-black hair tied back in a waterfall twist. No jewelry. No shoes.Just presence.She smiled like a cat who knew where every mouse was hiding.“You’ve caused a storm
008
Detroit – Midnight AlleyJason’s boots splashed through shallow puddles as he stalked down the alley. The city was a far cry from New York’s glossy skyscrapers—Detroit felt raw, like the bones of America were exposed here.Then he heard it.A scuffle.Gravel skidding. A voice gasping…. It was young, maybe seventeen.He turned the corner.Two men cornered a teen against a dumpster, knives drawn. One had a ski mask, the other wore a hoodie and a desperate grin.“Give me your fucking wallet now!”Jason didn’t speak. He moved gently.One kick shattered the first mugger’s kneecap. The second didn’t even see the elbow that dropped him.The teen bolted.Jason stood still, letting his breath settle. Blood pounded in his ears, not from exertion, but something else.The shift. The strange clarity that came right before the System spoke.But nothing came.Instead, from behind a stack of crates, a voice rasped:“You’re not like them. You reek of judgment.”He spun.A woman stepped forward, blindf
007
Lee Estate, HamptonsSunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the estate’s grand parlor, lighting up polished floors and tasteful art. But beauty did nothing to calm Catherine Lee’s rage.The crystal vase shattered against the far wall, spraying shards across the marble.“He humiliated us. In public. On camera. With cameras, Robert!”Mr. Lee barely blinked. He stood near the window, watching the waves crash beyond their sprawling lawn. Former U.S. ambassador. Billionaire entrepreneur. And now, a man watching his legacy unravel like cheap thread.“You think I don’t know that?” he said, voice low. “The board is panicking. Every hour, another investor pulls out. Half our portfolio’s frozen. The other half’s radioactive.”“Because of him! Because of you! You always coddled Brandon—”“Coddled? I warned him not to chase crypto hype with family money. He didn’t listen.”Catherine turned on him, red-faced. “Then why are you standing there like we can fix this?! He’s being rippe
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