“This makes no sense… How can a beast like that be unkillable? Do such terrifying creatures really exist?” James trembled at the thought. The nightmare was real—and worse than anything he’d imagined.

  The troll plunged its claw into its own body and pulled out Sam, gripping him by the neck like a toy.

  Sam couldn't breathe, yet somehow, he forced out words.

  “Forgive me… I know it’s a lot to ask, but please—live.”

  With those final words, the troll squeezed until the blood flow to Sam’s head stopped. His face turned red, then lifeless.

  “Sam...” James whispered.

  The troll turned its gaze on James and began to approach.

  James wanted to run—needed to run—but his legs wouldn't respond. His body refused to move, frozen in terror.

  The troll smirked before slamming James into the pavement with brutal force.

  It studied him like a predator examining prey.

  “I—I lost them again. Why! What was the point of training? The point of living? I finally found something to fight for... something to hope for,” James whispered through gritted teeth.

  Then, like a flash, he remembered the words that once pulled him from the brink:

  “I’ll be your family. You and me—let’s not make their deaths meaningless.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam… all of your deaths—I couldn’t protect anyone. I was too weak to stand by my friends.”

  “Now I’m too weak to even choose how I die,” he said softly, struggling to rise.

  The troll cocked its head.

  “Too… weak.”

  It spoke.

  James froze. His wide eyes locked onto the abomination.

  “It talked? What kind of creature is this? Immortal… adaptive… and now intelligent? If there are more monsters like this—humanity is doomed,” his thoughts raced in a spiral of fear.

  The troll grabbed James' left arm—and tore it off.

  “AHHHHHHHHH!”

  James screamed in agony, clutching his shoulder with his remaining hand, his body convulsing in pain.

  The troll stepped back and hovered it's hand against Jame’s body. His body began to swell grotesquely, similar to what had happened with Amanda.

  “I don’t want to die.” The thought echoed in James’ mind.

  And then—an explosion...

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  Where am I?

  Then—the world trembled.

  A sudden, unbearable pressure filled the air. James gasped, collapsing to his knees under the sheer force. The sky above burned, and as he looked up, the breath caught in his throat.

  Two colossal beings clashed in the heavens.

  One, wreathed in golden flames, shifted between man and beast. The other, a towering shadow, radiated a darkness that consumed all light.

  Their blows shattered the sky.

  Mountains crumbled. Oceans hissed into steam. The very crust of the Earth screamed beneath their power.

  James had never seen such strength.

  He stood frozen, heart pounding like a drum.

  Then—he saw it.

  A figure at the edge of reality, cloaked in golden mist.

  His blood ran cold.

  The figure took a step forward—

  And the world shook.

  James couldn’t breathe. A crushing pressure bore down on him, forcing him to his knees.

  Then, the figure spoke.

  “Go back.”

  The voice wasn't loud, but it echoed within him—deep in his bones.

  James’ lips trembled.

  “W-What…?”

  “You are not ready.”

  The air thickened. James’ chest tightened as an invisible force wrapped around him, squeezing the air from his lungs.

  “I don’t understand—what is this? What’s happening?!” he cried out.

  The voice returned.

  “If you want to uncover the truth of this world… everything will be revealed.”

  The glowing eyes stared into him.

  “But only after you have proven yourself worthy.”

  James’ vision blurred. The golden mist thickened around him, swallowing everything.

  Muffled voices echoed around him.

  “Vital signs are improving. Pulse is stabilizing.”

  James’ eyes fluttered open.

  The first thing he saw—a white room filled with strange, advanced technology. Four people stood nearby.

  His head throbbed, but the pain began to subside.

  A dark-skinned man approached him.

  “Mr. Kelechi Conor, how do you feel?”

  James blinked.

  “Where… am I?” he asked slowly.

  “You’re in the medical wing of the Genesis Center,” the man replied, then turned toward the others in the room.

  “Genesis Center…?” James wondered, eyes narrowing.

  “We’ll be leaving now, Mr. Kelechi. Someone will explain everything tomorrow.”

  The man gave a respectful bow and exited with the others.

  James lay in silence.

  “What’s going on? The last thing I remember… I was about to die. The troll—”

  His thoughts froze.

  He looked at his left arm. It was there. Whole. Intact.

  His missing arm had been restored, as if it had never been torn off.

  James exhaled deeply.

  “What is this place?” he thought, staring at the ceiling until sleep overtook him.

  ---

  The next morning, James stirred as the door opened.

  A man in a military uniform stepped in.

  James blinked—then immediately raised his hand in salute.

  “Cadet Conor salutes Commander Rourke!”

  Commander Rourke. One of the few people left in James’ life… was now standing before him.

  “Hahahaha!”

  Rourke laughed.

  “You always surprise me, kid,” he said, pulling up a chair.

  James tilted his head.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Rourke’s expression turned serious as he crossed his arms.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” he asked.

  James eased himself upright.

  “We were fighting a creature— It was about eight feet tall. And had Two huge fangs, with a crimson broken sun tattoo on its chest.”

  “We?” Rourke raised a brow.

  “Me, William, Jonathan, Sam, Sophia, and Trainer Vincent.” James’ voice softened.

  “And what happened to them?”

  “They died. The monster killed them all.”

  “Then how did you survive?”

  James paused.

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember anything after… after they died.” Tears welled in his eyes.

  Rourke’s tone shifted, colder.

  “What you described—sounds like a troll. But something doesn’t add up, James.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When we got to the scene, there was no sign of any creature. You described a troll – but a broken sun tattoo. That mark has never been seen on any known monster.”

  James’ eyes widened.

  “No… that’s not possible. That thing was immortal! Sophia cut off its head and it still didn’t die. You’re saying there’s no trace of it?”

  Rourke exhaled deeply.

  “James, how much time do you think has passed since the incident?”

  James frowned.

  “A few days… maybe a week?”

  Rourke stared at him.

  “You’ve been in a coma for five years, James.”

  James’ world came to a halt.

  “Five... years?” he whispered.