This relic was the only thing that had carried me to Rank–7 in the future.
The foundation of everything I would become.
And now…
I would enter the Anonymous Ranking once again and claim what I need.
My fingers closed slowly around the cold, polished surface of the statue. The black stone pressed against my palm, grounding my scattered thoughts, anchoring them to reality. Germany would fall in fifteen years. Not centuries, not decades, but fifteen. A blink for nations. Fate, it seemed, was cruel—but generous enough to let mortals believe they had time. Fifteen years: long enough for a country to convince itself it was stable. Short enough that it could never survive what was coming.
So I would not linger here. I would take what I needed from the land before its collapse became inevitable. My legacy would be built elsewhere. Somewhere stronger. Somewhere enduring.
Cairo. The desert winds greeted me first, a dry, whispering caress that carried the scent of sand, stone, and history. The city was alive, oblivious, a current of humanity flowing in endless directions. It had no idea that today, everything would shift.
I slipped among the crowd near Tahrir Square, the statue hidden beneath my coat. Its weight was a constant reminder against my chest: patience, preparation, inevitability. Being among the throngs of people felt alien after centuries of detached calculation. The chaos, the noise, the smells—they were a reminder of what it meant to be human. But Egypt would endure longer than Germany. Long enough to form the bedrock of my ascent.
I checked my watch.
7:55 AM.
Soon.
The seconds stretched and contracted, as if the world itself had begun to hold its breath. And then, when the minute hand finally struck twelve, reality itself faltered.
A translucent plane unfolded across the sky, stretching like fractured glass, its shards threaded with light. The effect was subtle at first. Then screams rose. Phones slipped from trembling hands. Knees buckled under invisible pressure. The sky itself seemed to warp, bending in ways that no physics had ever accounted for.
Above the city, the clouds twisted inward, spiraling into a massive circular distortion, a void stitched into the sky. From its center descended something neither machine nor flesh.
A figure. Tall, impossibly slender, wrapped in flowing, fragmented streams of light. Its face was smooth and featureless, save for a single vertical eye glowing pale gold. The air around it shimmered like a mirage beneath the desert sun.
A Herald.
I exhaled slowly. "So… the Overseer finally shows itself."
Its voice did not travel through the air. No sound waves. No vibration. It struck directly into every mind it touched, as if the world had become the conduit for thought itself.
"Designation confirmed."
"Species #10000074 — Humans."
"This world is hereby integrated into the Trial System."
The words were heavier than any physical blow. My chest tightened.
"From this moment onward, your existence will be evaluated."
"Power will be quantified."
"Survival will be measured."
"Growth will no longer be optional."
The Herald raised one luminous arm, and the city seemed to bend in response.
"You will face monsters. Beasts. Judgment."
"You will be granted strength."
"And you will be bound by a time limit."
The sky shivered again. Numbers and symbols, intricate rules, and parameters etched themselves into the air above Cairo, twisting and bending like living hieroglyphs. The system was not abstract. It was tangible. It had begun to enforce itself.
"This is not a game," the Herald continued. "This is a Trial. A system governed by levels, leagues, and rank. Those who survive will grow. Those who hesitate… will be erased. Look to the sky: there is your limit. Fail to meet it, and termination will commence. Skills, Runes, talents, items—all will be graded. Only adaptability, speed, and survival will matter. The rest… will be left behind."
Its single golden eye swept over the city, burning into every mind. "I am Herald #12000."
And then the city seemed to inhale, collectively. For a moment, silence ruled Tahrir Square.
Then a man shouted. "This is insane! You can't just decide our lives like this! Who—who gave you the right?!"
The fragile calm shattered like glass under pressure. Others began to yell. "This is a joke!" "We won't be part of this!" "You can't just take our lives!"
Panic rippled, a wave crashing through humanity.
The Herald did not move. Did not blink. Its golden eye turned toward the first man who spoke.
"Violation detected."
"Trial interference is prohibited."
The man opened his mouth to shout again. And then he was gone. Not torn apart. Not burned. Not exploded. Simply… erased. The space he had occupied folded in on itself for a heartbeat before smoothing out. No trace remained. No scream, no dust, no echo.
Nearby, a woman dropped to her knees, clutching at the empty space where someone had been. Her scream rose high, thin, desperate. Another person tried to flee.
Two more vanished, as if the world had never allowed them to exist.
The crowd went still. Hundreds, thousands of hearts beating as one. Fear had become absolute. The Herald's golden gaze swept across them again, silent and eternal.
Then the arm lowered slowly. The light of its body flickered and stretched, dissolving upward in streams of glowing mist, returning to the sky as if it had never been fully present. The distortion above Cairo twisted and closed, swallowing the remnants of its brilliance.
"Trial initialization complete," the voice whispered—or perhaps shouted—inside every mind. "Rules delivered. Time has begun."
For the first time, the tone shifted. No longer judgmental, no longer indifferent. Now, it carried the weight of inevitability.
"Struggle. Evolve. Or be erased."
And then:
"Farewell, humans."
And just like that, it was gone. The city's skyline looked the same. The wind blew as before. But everything had changed.
The trial had begun.