By the time The Masked Legend finished airing that night, the internet was already on fire.
No—It wasn't on fire.
It had exploded.
Across every major social media platform, one name surged upward like a comet tearing through the sky.
#ThePhoenix#MaskedLegendEpisode1#SkyfallLive#JulianVaneHater
Trending lists refreshed every second, and every time they did, the Phoenix's name climbed higher—until there was nowhere left to go.
She was number one.
Worldwide.
In apartments, dorm rooms, night-shift offices, and late-night cafes, people replayed the performance again and again. Clips spread faster than the platforms could compress them. Reaction videos popped up within minutes.
Some viewers cried openly on camera.
Some sat in stunned silence.
Others screamed at their screens.
—"That wasn't singing, that was storytelling!"—"I got chills in the first ten seconds. TEN."—"Julian Vane should retire. Immediately."
Julian's name trended right beneath hers.
But not in the way he was used to.
"Julian Vane is a hater! How could he call that technical?""He looked threatened. You could see it in his eyes.""For someone who talks about 'purity,' his critique sounded fake."
Memes flooded in.
Screenshots of Julian's frozen smile.Clips slowed down to capture the moment his expression cracked.Side-by-side comparisons of his polished pop performances versus the Phoenix's raw, cinematic presence.
The verdict from the public was swift and brutal.
Then came the speculation.
"The Phoenix is definitely a legendary singer coming out of retirement.""No rookie has that level of breath control.""That vibrato? That emotional restraint? She's seasoned."
And then—
One small comment appeared.
Buried deep in a massive thread, almost unnoticed at first.
"Is it just me… or does her height look exactly like Avery Rivers?"
For half a second, the comment gained traction.
A few likes.
A couple of replies.
Then—
It vanished.
Not deleted.
Drowned.
Thousands of responses crashed over it like a tidal wave.
"Don't insult the Phoenix by comparing her to that trash idol!""Avery Rivers can't sing like that, be serious.""She was just a pretty face with auto-tune.""The Phoenix is on a whole different level."
The irony was exquisite.
In a dim basement apartment, far from the glowing city skyline, Avery Rivers sat cross-legged on her old sofa, laptop balanced on her knees.
The screen reflected in her eyes—an endless scroll of comments, charts, reaction videos, and trending tags.
She was smiling.
Not widely.
Not triumphantly.
Just a small, quiet smile filled with cold amusement.
She was the most loved person in the country.
And the most hated.
At the same time.
Under two different names.
[System Notification: Massive Public Attention Detected.][Persona: The Phoenix — Public Favorability: Skyrocketing.][Identity: Avery Rivers — Public Hostility: Stable.]
The System displayed two graphs side by side.
One soaring upward like a rocket.
The other flatlined in infamy.
Avery leaned back, folding her arms.
"So this is what it feels like," she murmured.
To stand at the center of the storm.
To control the narrative without ever stepping into the light.
Across the city, in Titan Management's glass tower, Marcus Thorne stared at his phone in silence. Notification after notification lit up the screen—alerts he couldn't suppress, trends he couldn't buy, conversations he couldn't silence.
For the first time in years, Titan Management wasn't shaping public opinion.
They were chasing it.
And they were losing.
Back in the basement, Avery closed the laptop and stood up. The room was small. The ceiling low. The walls bare.
But the world was watching.
She walked to the cracked mirror by the door and looked at her reflection—plain clothes, tired eyes, no makeup, no glamour.
Then she reached for the Phoenix mask resting carefully on the table.
"Enjoy it while you can," she said softly, to the world beyond the glass.
"You're cheering for a goddess."
Her eyes sharpened.
"And gods," she added, "are far more dangerous than fallen idols."
Outside, the night buzzed with electricity.
Inside, the fire continued to burn.