Chapter Text
Chapter 1: Storm of a New World
The alley reeked of damp stone and sour wine, its narrow path wedged between crumbling buildings. Amid the gloom, Lightning’s pink hair stood out sharply. She stirred, her white-and-red cape catching on debris, and brushed dirt from her armor as a throbbing headache pulsed.
Above, a violet-green rift shimmered, bathing Paris in an eerie glow. The sky flickered with unnatural hues before settling back to blue.
Her mind was clouded—instincts razor-sharp, skills second nature, but no memories to ground them. She knew her name, her power, the heft of her Crimson Blitz saber, but nothing else. Shaking her head, she tried to clear the fog.
Stepping cautiously from the alley, she saw panicked bystanders fleeing. The blare of car horns and flashing screens felt foreign, jarring her senses. Screams and distant explosions drowned out her headache, pulling her focus.
A guttural roar snapped her head around. A spectral knight tore through a nearby street.
Gunfire ripped the air as a sleek, unfamiliar aircraft unleashed a barrage, staggering the knight. Lightning stood frozen, watching civilians stream past, some eyeing her strange outfit, mistaking her for a runway model.
The knight dodged a missile and hurled its massive sword, piercing the aircraft’s cockpit. The craft plummeted behind unseen buildings, and the knight advanced to reclaim its weapon, ready to continue its rampage.
Before she realized it, Lightning was sprinting toward the fray, driven by an urge to protect. This world wasn’t hers, but safeguarding it felt like a calling etched into her soul.
On the Champs-Élysées, the knight slashed at fleeing crowds, shrugging off soldiers’ bullets. Lightning charged, her saber gleaming, lightning sparking through her veins. She leaped, unleashing a storm of slashes and electric bursts that staggered the beast. It swung its blade. She dodged nimbly and drove her saber into its core.
The knight dissolved, its rift energy fading, but civilian phones flashed, capturing her fight. Their devices buzzed with #RiftInvasion, a phrase she’d caught amid the chaos.
Instead of gratitude, the soldiers turned on her, their fear and confusion mistaking her for another rift-spawned foe. She darted away with uncanny speed, slipping into an alley as her heart pounded. The soldiers, distracted by other monsters, didn’t follow.
With a swift wall-jump, she reached the rooftops for a better view. Despite the stunning skyline, chaos reigned—smoke choked the air, and sleek aircraft streaked above.
Night had fallen, and the fighting had eased. Rescuers freed people from rubble, medics tended the wounded, and armored vehicles patrolled tense streets. The city remained on edge.
Exhausted, Lightning evaded soldiers, her lack of preparation for this world weighing heavily. She relied on her honed skills and sharp mind to survive.
Leaning against a wall to catch her breath, she grappled with her missing memories. Her stoic resolve held firm, pushing her to focus: survive, find answers.
Ordinary people were approachable, but the soldiers, ever-present, saw her powers as a threat, mistaking her for a rift monster.
Hunger and fatigue gnawed at her, undeniable despite her warrior instincts. She stumbled upon a quiet diner, its flickering neon sign a beacon amid the turmoil. Inside, it was nearly empty, the owner watching warily from the windows.
Her pink hair and odd attire drew his skeptical glance as she entered, but he allowed it, the chaos outside overshadowing her strangeness.
Slumping into a corner booth. The scent of stale coffee and grilled bread stirred her growling stomach. She didn’t bother with the menu at all, she moved her hand at her temple as she pondered her next move. The Gil in her pocket was useless in this world’s currency.
After hours, a doorbell chimed as a stranger approached. Her instincts flared, bracing for a fight, but he merely ordered at the counter.
To her surprise, he slid into her booth as the owner set plates before her.
“You look like you’ve fought a war and missed dinner,” he said, his tone casual yet calculated.
Lightning tensed, her hand hovering near her saber, wary of kindness in this strange world.
“Who are you?” she asked, voice low, eyes narrowing.
“I’m Elon,” he replied, leaning back.
“Saw you out there, pink-haired badass, taking down that ghost-knight thing. Impressive.”
He tapped a tablet, displaying a grainy clip of her Champs-Élysées fight earlier.
“You’re a natural—saving people, no hesitation. But the soldiers shooting at you? They don’t get it. You’re not the threat, the rifts are.”
“What do you want? Get to the point,” Lightning said, arms crossed, her stoic resolve masking her mind’s emptiness.
Elon cleared his throat.
“I’ve been studying those rifts for some time now. Demon invaders pouring from them, causing havoc.”
“And you’re assuming I’m a demon too?” Lightning’s eyes flared.
“No, no. I can tell you’re not one of them. Maybe got brought in by accident. I can help you.”
His perception startled her. Though he seemed human, his presence carried an indescribable weight. He might hold answers, but he was dangerous.
“What’s the catch?” she pressed, sensing an ulterior motive.
“Those rifts are power—clean, infinite, the key to ending fossil fuels, saving the planet from climate collapse. Only problem? The monsters. That’s where you come in.”
Lightning’s gaze sharpened.
“You want me to clean up the mess for your scientific endeavors?” Her tone was sharp, skeptical. “If I refuse?”
“There are more out there, like you—warriors, scattered, fighting. I could go to them instead. The world governments see you all as a threat. A specialized UN task force is already tracking you, and they’re not friendly.”
“I’m guessing that’s how you found me.”
“Precisely. Thanks to me, their trail has gone cold.”
Lightning paused, considering the others like her. She didn’t know what the UN was, but she never underestimated a foe.
“So here’s the deal,” Elon pitched.
“You gather everyone with abilities like yourself, form a team. Fight whatever’s coming out of those things in the sky, as I study it for energy and help you get home.”
Her face remained neutral, her eyes betraying deep thought. Sensing hesitation, Elon pressed on.
“I’ve got a warehouse in Nevada, hidden, secure. No more running. You can set up there.”
Safety appealed to her, with the world seemingly against her.
“I call it the Vanguard Initiative,” he continued. “Together, you stop the monsters, we harness the rifts, everybody wins.”
“Vanguard Initiative?” She rolled her eyes.
Elon, a shrewd businessman, sensed he was close to winning her over.
“This world’s falling apart,” he urged. “You’re out there fighting, no questions asked. Join me, and we’ll give you a team, a plan, a way to stop this. Those people you saved? They need you.”
No past, no home, just a crumbling world. Elon’s plan sounded noble, but his ambition felt slippery. Still, the other warriors called to her—answers might lie with them.
“This team,” she said firmly, “runs my way. No games.”
Elon’s grin widened, thrilled she’d agreed. He offered his hand before she could reconsider.
“Deal,” she exhaled, ignoring his hand, her stoic resolve unyielding. “But if you’re lying, you’ll answer to me.”
“Okay, okay. Let me make a few phone calls.”
Lightning hoped she’d chosen wisely. She pulled the plate closer and ate.
A woman bursts in later on, spotting Elon and heading straight for them.
“This is Amara Lin, my secretary. Well… not anymore, as I’ve assigned her to help you out.”
Amara looked stunned by the sudden reassignment.
“But sir!” She already doubted Elon’s Vanguard Initiative, and managing it was another level entirely.
Shaking her head in frustration, she accepted there was no changing his mind and hoped the pay was worth it. Then, recalling her urgent purpose, she snapped to attention.
“Sir! French special forces are already looking for her!” She gestured to Lightning. “The plane’s ready.”
“Crap! Let’s go.”