Zone-D used to be called District Seven – Industrial Bay. Back when people still believed in progress, in government patrols, in the idea of tomorrow. Now it was just another ghost zone, full of rusted steel, broken machines, and civilians clinging to scraps.
The sky over Zone-D hung like a bruise — too still, too heavy. The clouds didn't drift or fade. They just sat there, pulsing faintly, as if waiting for permission to fall.
Kai stood in line outside Ration Post 9, his shoulders stiff, his eyes calm. One hand held the fingers of his younger sister, Lina, who hummed quietly and drew shapes in her notebook with a stubby pencil.
The line stretched down what used to be Unity Road, now renamed Sector Five Strip by the surviving street network. What was left of the buildings leaned into each other like tired bones. Half of them were scorched; the other half were hollowed out from inside. Concrete cracked under every step, and old broadcast speakers flickered with static that hadn't meant anything in years.
Behind the ration fence stood a faded sign:
ZONE-D — CIVILIAN SECTOR 5
LEVEL 3 PRIORITY — STAND IN LINE
ANYONE OUTSIDE CURFEW WILL BE SHOT
Kai wasn't worried about the curfew — not yet. But the guards behind the steel crates were another matter. Their armor was chipped and mismatched. One had spray-painted a red skull on his shoulder pad. Another leaned on his rifle like it was a walking stick, visor half fogged.
But none of them were watching the line anymore.
They were looking at the sky.
Kai noticed.
Beside him, Lina leaned against his arm. "If we get noodles today," she said softly, "I'm naming them Fred."
He raised an eyebrow without turning. "Fred?"
"Fred the Noodle King." She nodded with complete seriousness. "He ruled over Boiling Pot Mountain for seventy-two hours before falling heroically into my stomach."
Kai huffed through his nose. "A noble end."
Lina smiled, showing her small, uneven teeth. She had bright hazel eyes that sparkled with mischief when the world let her feel safe. Her brown curls were tied back in uneven loops with frayed rubber bands. Her oversized boots flopped when she walked, and her hoodie dragged like a cape. She looked like a mess. A happy one.
Only around Kai.
Only when things were calm.
Kai was seventeen. Tall for his age, narrow-shouldered, but strong from travel and lifting. His coat was patchy, stitched at the elbows. His knife stayed tucked inside the lining — not for show, but for when the world reminded you it didn't care. His face was sharp-featured, with black eyes that watched everything like puzzle pieces. Always quiet. Always thinking.
Lina suddenly frowned and shaded her eyes with her hand. "Hey, Kai… why are the clouds glowing?"
He followed her gaze.
The clouds had changed.
They weren't just dark — they were alive.
Faint green lines crawled through them like veins. Not lightning. Not reflection. They pulsed slowly. Steady. Too steady.
Like a heartbeat.
Kai's brow furrowed. "That's not weather."
"It's kinda pretty," Lina said. Then her voice dropped. "I don't like it."
A wind swept the road, soft and cold, brushing past their cheeks like fingers. Lina inched closer to him. He squeezed her hand.
Something was about to happen. Something big. Kai could feel it in his bones.
A few people near the front started murmuring. One pointed upward. Another stepped out of line.
A guard raised his voice. "Everyone stay where you are!"
Too late.
That's when it started.
Not thunder.
Not wind.
Threads.
They came down from the sky slowly — thin, transparent lines, like spider silk drifting on the breeze. Hundreds. Thousands. Twisting gently in the air.
Not water.
Not dust.
Something else.
Kai's eyes narrowed. "Get under something. Now."
He pulled Lina toward a rusted-out vending stall just off the side of the line. The stall's awning was torn, but it would do. He pushed her under and dropped his coat over her hood, then turned back to the street.
The threads touched the ground. The buildings. The people.
A man near the fence raised his hands as if welcoming the strange rain.
A strand landed on his forehead.
He smiled… for one second.
Then he screamed.
His arms bent backward at the elbows with a snap. His skin darkened, glossy and tight. His spine jerked — then snapped forward so fast it looked like his body folded in half.
His mouth opened far too wide.
No sound came out.
Lina gasped and dropped her sketchbook. "Kai…"
He crouched in front of her.
"What's wrong with him?" she whispered, voice trembling. "Why is he—why is his face like that?"
"Don't look."
"I—I can't not look!"
Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in his coat.
Screaming echoed through the street.
People ran.
More threads fell.
Another woman collapsed mid-step, her legs twitching. A guard fired — not at her, but at the air. His bullet hit nothing. He dropped his rifle and started clawing at his own chest.
Kai saw it all.
Too fast. Too unreal.
He grabbed Lina's hand again. "We're leaving."
"Where—"
"Now!"
They ran.
Not toward home. That was across too many open roads, under too much sky.
Kai turned sharply down an alley, past an old clinic that had burned out two winters ago. He shoved open a bent fence and dashed toward the metro line.
The gate was chained shut, but rusted.
He kicked it.
It gave way with a sharp metallic groan.
Down the stairs. Down into the old tunnel.
Cool air rushed past them, thick with dust and water vapor.
Lina stumbled. He caught her by the arm and held her close.
The lights inside flickered weakly. Some were broken. Others buzzed like dying flies.
They reached the bottom platform. It was wide and empty, except for a few overturned benches and a cracked vending machine full of dead flies.
The station had once been called Platform D-9. No one called it anything now.
Kai helped Lina behind a bench and crouched beside her.
She sat quietly, arms wrapped around her knees. Her voice was gone now. Her face was pale. No jokes. No smiles. Just wide eyes staring at nothing.
"I dropped Fred," she said softly, after a moment.
Kai didn't answer.
Because something was happening again.
His head snapped back.
A hot, sharp jolt slammed into the base of his skull. It was like fire inside his brain — but not just pain. Input.
He gasped and dropped to his knees.
"Kai?!"
Lina grabbed his shoulders. "What's wrong?! Talk to me!"
His vision exploded into light.
[World Seed Protocol Detected…]
[Genetic Anchor Found – Host: KAI]
[Access Level: ARCHITECT LAYER]
[Lineage Match Detected – 13% Sync Established]
Dozens of lines. Floating windows. Data. Structures. Blueprints made of glowing white and silver.
[Passive Trait Unlocked: Adaptive Logic Core]
[Status: Seed Initializing…]
[Warning: Incomplete Identity. Emergency Mode Activated.]
Then the light vanished.
Kai collapsed.
Lina caught him before he hit the floor completely.
"Kai? Kai?! No, no, no—don't—wake up!"
He didn't move.
She shook his shoulders.
His chest was still rising. But his eyes were shut, and his face looked pale.
Lina looked around the tunnel — empty, dead, dripping.
She curled up beside him.
"You said you'd stay," she whispered, eyes filling with tears. "You promised."
She pulled his coat over both of them and lay still.
Her sketchbook sat face-down near the stairs, half-soaked from her run, open to a page where Fred the Noodle King was drawn with a fork crown and a cape made of spaghetti.
Above them, the threads still fell.
Below them, something had just awakened that the world had long forgotten.
And it had chosen Kai.