The world was normal. For the last time.
Morning sunlight spilled across the city like molten gold. Cars honked. Street vendors shouted. Kids ran late to school — the usual human playlist. Nothing hinted at the cosmic sucker punch about to hit Earth.
Behind an old school, on a cracked basketball court, two best friends wasted the last traces of morning boredom.
Dioka — hoodie half-zipped, hair a chaotic mess, grin loud enough to annoy anyone.
Guakulia — hands in pockets, expression unreadable, a walking "do not disturb" sign.
"Bro, catch—" Dioka flung the ball.
Guakulia caught it without looking. "You know I don't do sports."
The world was boring. Predictable. Safe.
Until the sky screamed.
Not thunder. Not an explosion. Not a sound you could name. Just… a clean, glass-shattering crack that sliced the blue above them.
A white pulse rolled outward. Silent. Blinding.
The world froze.
Dioka stumbled, gripping the fence. Something inside him twisted. Wrong. Not painful. Just… incompatible with reality.
Guakulia's eyes narrowed. Calm as ever, but something flickered — formulas, calculations, systems. They failed. Broke.
Every other human shifted. Tracks activated. Powers awakened. Predictable chaos. But not them.
"Bro… what's happening?" Dioka whispered.
Before Guakulia could answer, a man erupted in flames nearby. Three others chased him, sparks flying, powers unstable, violent. Civilians screamed, diving behind overturned buses.
Dioka froze. "Yo… we're not dead?"
Guakulia stepped forward, calm. Eyes glowing faintly. The ground bent subtly beneath him.
"No Tracks. System can't read us."
Dioka blinked. "The sky… the powers… everyone else looks like an RPG skill tree, and you're chill?"
Guakulia shrugged. "Panicking won't respawn us."
A beam of energy sliced past Dioka's shoulder, missing by inches. He yelped, stumbling back.
The world had mutated overnight. Every color, every sound, every space felt negotiable. His body didn't follow rules. Chaos lived inside him.
Dioka's grin spread. "…So what do we do?"
Guakulia scanned the chaos — supernovas, civilians, destruction. Then he looked at Dioka.
"We do what we always do."
"…Which is?"
"Survive."
Dioka chuckled. Something awakened — raw instinct. Joy. Chaos he could play with.
Guakulia cracked his knuckles, faintly smiling.
Neither of them realized it yet:
They weren't just surviving.
They were anomalies. Entities the system couldn't leash. Beings who would one day eclipse Supremes.
But for now?
Two boys stood in the ruins of their old life, adrenaline blazing…
…and the world didn't know it yet, but it had just met its first untamable Supernovas.
And someone—or something—was already watching.