On Earth, in Shelter City 9, the massive Player Headquarters rose toward the thick yellowish clouds, its silhouette faintly veiled yet still mesmerizing, standing as the monumental heart of the shelter city.

Not long ago, this building had been just another government-owned corporate facility, a place only visited by the curious and the journalists who lingered outside for scraps of news.

Now, its vast courtyard and the wide streets around it were packed with people.

They came from every age and walk of life-babies in their mothers' arms, weary elders struggling to stand, and countless others gathered silently, all their eyes fixed on the giant screens placed all around.

The displays were projecting SGI-like visuals of impossible realism: titans clashing, the ground shattering, and the end of the world unfolding in every frame.

The same footage was playing across the whole planet, on home screens, in offices, and in every public plaza, but these people chose to come here.

They wanted to feel closer to what was happening in Beyond, to the changes reshaping their world, and to the new frontier humanity was claiming.

The footage wasn't fully stable. Even after experts processed it, unknown energy interference kept scoring the image with static lines and wavering distortions; nevertheless, it didn't diminish its impact on the regular people watching.

Some wore faces so grim it looked as if the world had ended, while others were bright with excitement, because for them it had become a routine event; whenever new footage arrived from the new world, they dropped everything to watch.

But today's broadcast was different. It wasn't another documentary showing alien wildlife or secret drone footage of Beyond's landscapes.

This was a declaration of the future itself, a record of the battle that would decide whether humanity had the right to claim its own land in that world.

The visuals rolled like a documentary, narrated by a clear, steady voice that guided the audience through every stage of the war. The tone shifted with the footage, restrained and calm one moment, heavy with emotion the next.

And then, as the image of Adyr appeared, standing before a monstrous figure clad in blood-red armor, its body shaped like a humanoid dragon, the narrator's voice trembled through every speaker.

"And this was the strike that decided our victory, the fatal blow that sealed our claim to new lands."

Even as the footage degraded, covered in static and interference from unknown energy, the crowd could still see the red beam slam into Adyr's Malice Armor, ripping through the battlefield and turning the ground to ash.

It was an attack powerful enough to annihilate an entire shelter city in seconds. Yet, before their eyes, one man had stood against it, his only goal to claim a rightful place for humanity in Beyond.

Of course, the documentary was designed for emotional impact. Every edit, every transition, and every rise in the narrator's voice served to amplify the feeling. It was created to manipulate, yet it was also a genuine reminder of the price a select few had paid to build that future and of the life Adyr, their selected hero, had risked for it.

As the beam struck, the crowd fell silent. Their faces tightened, eyes blurred, and chests ached with a strange mix of sorrow and gratitude.

Some struggled to breathe, while others stood motionless, staring ahead as if frozen in place

Yet not everyone was convinced. A few watched with tense, uncertain eyes, questioning whether wielding such power was truly wise and whether victory itself might one day turn against them.

But when Adyr survived the blast and, according to the narrator, secured humanity's first rightful territory, the screens changed once more.

The final scenes showed the new construction plans prepared for public review -the foundations of what would soon become humanity's new home.

When the footage of Adyr summoning the massive serpent appeared, clearing the sky of its yellowish sick clouds, even the most hardened skeptics felt something break inside.

As the sunlight returned in its golden, clear brilliance, they found themselves reminded of something.

And as the images showed him restoring the earth, reviving the once-dead soil beneath his feet, the people felt new hope bloom inside them.

To them, the video was more than a broadcast. It was a metaphor, a story of destruction followed by rebirth, mirroring their own world.

It was like watching a one-man theater performance where Adyr played for all humanity, rebuilding their broken world and shaping a new, brighter future. When the screens finally faded to black, the silence was finally shattered.

Thousands erupted in a single, thunderous voice that filled the city streets and echoed through every open corridor.

"Adyr Hellcraft!"

"Adyr Hellcraft!"

Through the roar of the crowd, a black military Hummer rolled slowly along the side road. Behind its tinted windows, a young woman gazed out at the sea of people, listening to their chants echoing through the chaos. "Mom, do you think it's too late for us to change our surname?" Niva asked, her blue eyes narrowing slightly in a mix of amusement and cringe. Marielle, sitting beside her with one arm still missing, laughed softly. "Sure, if you get married, you can take your husband's surname."

"Married?" Niva's frown deepened. "Do you really think anyone would be crazy enough to ask me out while everybody is now calling my brother practically a god?"

She wasn't serious about marriage, but her point was true. Even neighbors and old friends who once visited them freely now treated them differently, like nobles, distant and untouchable, as if they no longer belonged to the same

world.

"Well, you've got a point," Marielle said with a faint smile. She hid her discomfort well, not wanting her daughter or son to see the weight behind it.

Their lives were changing, whether for better or worse, with every move Adyr made. Still, they were his family, and they knew how to stand by him when it mattered most.

As they spoke, the front window lowered with a soft mechanical hum. The suited driver in the front seat turned slightly and spoke with calm

professionalism.

"Miss, due to the crowd outside, we will be taking the underground route. It

will only take a few more minutes to arrive."

"That's fine, thank you," Marielle replied gently. Her hand, almost unconsciously, touched the space where her arm once was.

Soon, both would undergo genetic-mutation procedures, each with her own priority: Marielle to regenerate her arm, and Niva to achieve flawless skin.

Amid all the chaos Adyr had brought into their lives, this was one of the blessings he had given them. And for that, they knew how to be grateful. The Hummer, with the crowd outside unaware of who was inside, kept to the side roads, slipped into an underground tunnel, and soon entered a large private parking garage where many STF personnel and white-coated researchers were waiting for their arrival.

Seeing the small crowd, Marielle and Niva were taken aback as they realized

this was another blessing their new status had brought: from now on, they wouldn't have to worry about their safety or needs, since wherever they went, someone from the government or Adyr's fanatic followers would be there to take care of everything.