The Gates counted down relentlessly. Every second that passed was a drumbeat of inevitability. From the moment the System appeared, humanity had clung to the illusions that things were still the same. That governments mattered, that laws mattered, that reason mattered. That Earth was still Earth.
Now, one year later, Earth was unrecognizable, a planet reshaped by mana remolded by dungeon depths, rewired by new laws that didn't care for physics or prayer, life or death. And as humanity would soon realize, collectively, in bone-deep certainty, that they were not prepared at all for what lay beyond the Gates. That beyond these doors which led to things beyond comprehension, to things that would not negotiate, would not bargain, and would not fail.
On the other side, when the Gates began to appear across the new Universe, every realm felt it like a tremor in the fabric of existence, new worlds awakening, new battlegrounds unfolding, new frontiers ripe with potential.
Some Old, unclaimed, untamed, primitive, and now exposed. The System arrival rippled outward, touching every plane, tearing through every boundary. And the invaders; thousands of races, billions of entities turned their collective attention toward it. There were no cheers, no rallying cries. Only purpose, only instinct, only hunger for conquest.
In Western Europe the gates beyond held faeries, from different Fey Courts. Earth's awakening was like a forgotten melody being played again after ages of silence. The Fey did not prepare armies, they blossomed. Forests breathed faster. Rivers curled in anticipation. Magic thickened like perfume.
They saw Earth as a garden left to rot by caretakers too mortal, too clumsy. A garden they would reclaim. Restore. Beautify. Rule. Their coming was not war. It was inevitable reclamation. Mortals were simply weeds that needed to be pruned.
In Eastern Europe monsters that lurked in the shadows were ready to come out, the Shadowfell forces felt Earth's call like a pulse of blood, rich and inviting. To them, Earth was not a world, but a feast. A continent of prey wandering in daylight, unaware of how short those days were about to become. Darkness stirred. Claws sharpened. Shadows lengthened.
In the North Pole, the Giants from different Heims felt the awakening through the bones of worlds. A deep vibration. A tectonic summons. To them, Earth was small, a pebble, a hill, a continent unworthy of awe. Yet beneath that judgment was a pull, a call to reshape, reclaim, dominate.
In the Southern part of Africa, the Hells reacted to Earth's awakening with a predator's grin. To the infernal races, Earth was a battlefield already won, it simply didn't know it yet. A place to scorch. To subjugate. To corrupt.
In the Northern part of Africa, the Heavens observed the awakening with calm serenity. The mortal world was a chaotic, sinful place that needed to be cleansed. Their preparations were disciplined. Measured. Precise. Their descent was not conquest. It was judgment.
In East Asia, the dead felt Earth like a whisper of forgotten memory. A land with graves uncounted. A land with history unburied. They did not hunger. They did not rage. They simply obeyed their nature. Earth was a field of bones waiting to be reclaimed by those who had once walked it.
In Southern Asia meanwhile, the gates beyond led to Limbo where ghosts reacted like wind to an open door. Earth was a beacon, a realm thick with emotion, regret, dreams, longing. They drifted toward it in tides of pale light. Not to conquer, but to exist. To feed on memories, fears, and unresolved histories.
In Western Asia, the Elementals were ready to run wild. Fire danced. Air whirled in spirals of delight. Water leapt from its resting seas. Earth cracked open in excitement. To the Elementals, Earth wasn't a battlefield or a conquest. It was freedom. A new canvas. A new playground. A new place to express themselves in wild, glorious chaos.
In Central Asia, the Dragons perceived Earth's awakening like a challenge. A roar from an infant realm declaring its presence. To them, Earth was a hoard and territory, something to own, to dominate, to perch upon. Their preparations were instinctive: Wings spread in anticipation. Scales glimmered like living metal. Breath weapons simmered beneath their ribs.
In South Asia, entities born of nebulae and cosmic dust observed Earth with cold curiosity. A primitive world had opened, to them Earth was a test subject. A research opportunity. They prepared with calculations, advanced weapons, and experiments that they wished to perform. Their invasion would be clinical. Precise. Cold.
In Oceania, the Psi Swarms waited to invade in unison as Earth pulsed with new mental energy. They felt this new signal, this beacon call out to them like a psychic scream of vulnerability. Which was to be assimilated.
In the Americas you had the Clockwork spheres that hummed with machines that came to life. Gears whirring and logic circuits blazing. Earth's awakening created variables. Variables had to be analyzed. Controlled. Optimized.
Opposite them were the Magick towers with their hooded mages in their spires. A world newly awakened to mana was volatile, untrained, unguarded. To them, Earth was fertile ground for arcane harvest runes to claim, leylines to anchor, towers to construct. Their invasion would be transformation through sorcery.
Down in the South there were the Primal Grounds which held primeval creatures whose hunting instincts came to life. Massive shapes thundered across grasslands. Eyes like molten amber opened for the first time in ages. Roars echoed across volcanic plains. Their arrival would be simple: Hunt. Dominate. Survive.
There were also the ancient forests trembling awake as if waking from a long winter. Earth's awakening was nourishment pure mana, fertile and wild. The worldtree sanctuaries roots were ready to stretch out, branches awaiting to curl around this new world. The forests prepared to spread everywhere with new life stirred with sentience.
Above it all, the Arctic Ocean revealed Subterranean Terrains, tunnels and labyrinths beneath the ice, where creatures older than humanity's memory waited to surface.
Below in Antarctica, the Far Realm waited. Some eldritch intelligences beyond comprehension illogically observed the bright blue world beyond the Gate, their many forms shifting and impossible, their eyes piercing the veil of reality itself.