The city thrummed with a gentle yet undeniable energy. Morning routines unfolded as usual commuters rushing for transit, café lines forming, merchants setting up shop but you could feel it in the air: something different was coming. Neon banners danced in the breeze from every corner, each one heralding the fast-approaching Zenith Games. Distant drumbeats and cheers echoed from practice arenas, where athletes and performers trained with burning anticipation. The Games were more than a spectacle they were a celebration. A pause. A reminder of unity in a world so often shaped by chaos.
Inside Zalthorion's Tower, the atmosphere mirrored that buzz of preparation.
Zalthorion sat quietly at his desk, fingers rhythmically tapping against the surface as streams of documents flickered across his screen reports, updates, tactical forecasts. Rarely did he have time to sift through them all personally, but this day demanded his focus.
"Do you ever think we're overthinking it?" Zalthorion asked, half to himself, leaning back in his chair.
"Highly unlikely, master," Pascal replied with a mechanical wink. "Preparation is part of the fun! And besides, the Games are supposed to be fun, aren't they?"
Zalthorion let out a soft chuckle. "Sometimes, I think I've forgotten what that word means."
Far below the tower, on the edge of the city's urban limits, Yariam the Giant was immersed in his own quiet ritual of readiness. Towering over all, he worked the fields with gentle precision, guiding young children through the art of planting. His massive hands, which could tear steel like paper, now cradled tender seeds like fragile dreams.
"Are you sure it goes in like that?" a curious child asked, holding a seed with hesitant fingers.
Yariam nodded, crouching down with the weight of a gentle mountain. "Patience, little one. The soil must welcome the seed first."
Elsewhere, Cavian paced across the wide halls of her daycare, worry knitted softly into her brow. She kept one eye on the horizon of the coming Games, and the other on the needs of her children. Though excitement buzzed through the city like electricity, she remained grounded.
"You should come watch with us," one of the volunteers offered, smiling. "You deserve a break."
Cavian offered a warm, tired smile. "Maybe. But not until every child is safe, fed, and happy. They come first. Always."
As the days melted closer to the Games, Evolto pulsed with a growing rhythm. Arenas filled with athletes, training under neon lights. Shops lined their windows with limited-edition gear, souvenirs, and steaming festival snacks. The city was alive peaceful, for once and it seemed as if nothing could disrupt that harmony.
Until the night before the Games.
At the Exo-Guardian Headquarters, Darek Vos stood in front of a mirror, tightening the final clasps on his armor. It wasn't a mission, but for him, the Games still carried weight. Ritual. Purpose. His fellow squadmates laughed from behind, lounging in casual uniforms.
"You look ready to fight a war, not toss a discus," one joked.
Darek smirked. "You never know. Chaos has a way of dressing up as fun."
His gaze drifted across the room, settling on a small figure Marisov, the boy with unimaginable power and a heart too innocent for it. The child sat cross-legged, fiddling with a glowing gadget.
Darek walked over and ruffled his hair. "Excited for tomorrow?"
Marisov beamed. "YES!"
"Then rest up, little one. Big day ahead."
As his squad dispersed for the night, Darek lingered. There was something in the air a stillness that felt too perfect. A breath held too long. His instincts whispered warnings he couldn't yet name.
And then, high above the city, where the broadcasting satellites relayed the Zenith Games across Evolto, a rift shimmered into being. Small. Silent. But real.
A tear in reality opened and for a moment, a connection was made.
Location: Earth, Year 2025.
The Super Bowl was just over a week away. Commercials flooded the screens. Yet, in a forgotten corner of the world, something peculiar began to happen.
On old analog TVs those left in basements, garages, or antique shops, untouched for years if you twisted the dial just right, past the static and dead channels, something appeared.
A broadcast. Bright. Colorful. Alien.
The Zenith Games.
People of Evolto watching in jubilation. Marching bands of beasts and machines. Fireworks that split the sky with light. Excitement and joy, somehow beaming across dimensions.
But here, on Earth, no one noticed.
No one, except those few still curious enough to turn the knobs of an old world, unknowingly catching glimpses of another.
A man in his late twenties let's call him Jace had been digging through old tech in his grandfather's garage. Among the VHS tapes and dusty radios, he found an ancient box-shaped TV with twisty dials and a wood-paneled exterior. It still worked, surprisingly. Curious and bored, Jace plugged it in, half-hoping to get a few retro channels or maybe some old cartoons.
But then something strange happened.
As he twisted past channels of static, something cut through. Bright lights. Booming music. Cheers in a language he didn't recognize. Giant beasts marched beside armored warriors, while a voice narrated the unfolding spectacle with theatrical flair.
"Live from Evolto… the Zenith Games about to begin!"
At first, Jace laughed. "Some new marketing campaign? Viral ad for a game or something?" He grabbed his phone, recorded a snippet, and posted it to TikTok and YouTube with the title:
"WTF is this? Found on an old TV?? Zenith Games?? ARG???"
The video got some attention about a thousand views. A few comments rolled in:
> "This is either the best game trailer ever or I'm having a stroke."
"That looks way too real to be CGI…"
"Did anyone else see that 'Evolto' thing flicker across the screen?"
It didn't go viral, not in the way you'd expect. Most people scrolled past, assuming it was fake or part of some elaborate ARG.
But deeper in the web where conspiracy theorists, hackers, and the terminally curious lurked something stirred.
On imageboards like 4chan, obscure forums, and private Discord servers, threads began popping up.
> /x/ - "Anyone else see the Zenith Games feed?"
"TV glitch or trans-dimensional bleed?"
"Dark Web interference—Zenith Games channel hijacking nodes???"
Some users posted screenshots grainy and distorted claiming their own analog TVs had picked up the feed. Others reported something more concerning: interference.
On certain parts of the Dark Web, where encrypted marketplaces and blackhat forums resided, there were interruptions static that shouldn't be there, broadcasts of cheering crowds and alien commentators cutting into illegal streams and secure data feeds. Even Tor browsers lagged when the term "Zenith Games" appeared on screen.
A few hackers claimed their systems logged a new kind of data packet, foreign in structure. Untraceable. Non-human in origin.
> "This isn't just a signal. It's broadcasting THROUGH encryption."
By then, the whispers grew louder. Some believed it was a glitch in the simulation. Others thought it was an actual breach a dimensional overlap between Earth and another universe. A few tried to trace the source, only to have their devices crash, their connections severed, or in one case, an entire laptop melted internally. Literally.
And yet, above Evolto, the rift remained.
Small. Unnoticed by most. But growing.
For eight days, the strange Zenith Games signal lingered on forgotten TV sets and dusty antennas. Most brushed it off as a glitch, a forgotten frequency pulsing from a far-off broadcast tower. But those who saw it… couldn't forget it.
Then came the eighth day.
Super Bowl.
Millions tuned in. Stadium lights beamed across the Earth, households filled with snacks, cheers, and anticipation. The halftime show was just beginning. Kendrick Lamar took the stagefireworks, beats, the roar of the crowd.
Then
Everything stopped.
The stadium screens flickered.
Phones went black.
Televisions no matter the brand, no matter the source fizzled into static, then bloomed to life with golden light.
At first, the crowd thought it was part of the show.
Then the same thing happened in Tokyo, Lagos, Paris, Mumbai, Buenos Aires, and Seoul.
On every screen across the globe, an image burned clear: a colossal arena suspended among the clouds, banners waving in a wind that didn't belong to Earth. In the center of the grand stage, a towering figure stepped forward.
Zalthorion Veilstryx.
Cloaked in ethereal robes, eyes like burning stars, he spoke.
> "Long ago, the peoples of Evolto sought peace through challenge not war. When voices clashed and worlds collided, it was not the blade, but the game, that brought unity. Thus began the first Zenith Games. A celebration of power, will, and spirit. Today… that legacy continues."
His voice echoed across the globe.
But here's the impossible part.
Everyone understood.
Whether you were a farmer in rural China, a teenager in the Bronx, a grandmother in Ghana, or a child in the slums of RioZalthorion's words reached you in the language of your heart. No captions. No delays. No need for translation.
Every language. Every dialect.
Perfectly understood.
The crowd behind Zalthorion roared with excitement giants, beasts, mages, machines, and heroes from countless realms, preparing for the opening ceremony of the Zenith Games. Fireworks erupted in alien patterns across Evolto's artificial sky. The drums of worlds unknown pounded like thunder.
Back on Earth, panic and awe flooded the internet. News anchors stuttered mid-sentence. Streams froze. Feeds were overridden.
Even satellites weren't spared.
At Exo-Guardian HQ, far above Evolto, silent alarms blinked red. Not because of an attack, but because dozens hundreds of new rifts were blooming across the city's orbital perimeter. Small, almost invisible.
Receiving signals. Broadcasting them.
Yet no one in Evolto noticed.
Not yet.
Pascal twirled beside Zalthorion's podium, throwing glitter and sparks for the celebration, completely unaware.
Yariam laughed with children, helping them paint flags for their favorite competitors.
Cavian held the youngest toddlers near the viewing crystal, smiling as the first match approached.
And Zalthorion… stood tall before the multiverse, never realizing he had just broadcasted the Zenith Games to an entirely new world.
Earth.
A world unaware. Unprepared.
By the time Zalthorion turned toward his aides and narrowed his eyes at the flickering satellite readouts, it was already too late.
The rifts had grown.
The signal was spreading.
And something else… had noticed.