Time Left on Earth: 5 hours, 58 minutes
The street was quiet—eerily so. The kind of quiet that didn't belong in any populated zone. SeTa walked past husks of buildings, neon signs flickering like the dying embers of a forgotten civilization. He kept his hood low, Zuvanox trailing silently in his shadow like a loyal sentinel.
This was not the Earth he remembered.
A light drizzle misted the cracked concrete, mixing the scent of ozone with that of mold, decay, and the subtle tang of mana. The remnants of a once-thriving city were now stalked by paranoia and silence. Civilization hadn't fallen—but it was hanging by a thread.
Then he felt it.
The air shimmered—a distortion in reality—subtle but trained eyes would never miss it. SeTa halted. Zuvanox growled low, the mane along his neck crackling faintly with black lightning.
"Come out," SeTa said without turning. "Three of you. No point pretending."
From the shadows, three figures emerged, each in black combat gear branded with the GAA insignia—the Global Ascendancy Agency. The middle one removed her helmet, revealing a face weathered by age and battlefield exhaustion. Eyes sharp. Calculating.
"You're a hard man to track," she said.
"I wasn't hiding," SeTa replied calmly.
"Your mana trail says otherwise."
He said nothing. Instead, his eyes flicked to the patch on her sleeve: Level 17 Climber – Retired. She knew what she was talking about. But she wasn't strong enough to be a threat.
"We're not here to fight. We're here because we need you," she continued. "Dungeon Breaks are happening faster than we can handle. Class D, sometimes C. Civilians are dying. The Tower doesn't care."
"It never did."
She nodded slowly. "But maybe you do."
He turned, slowly facing her. "Why me?"
"Because you're on every satellite feed from the Zambia Rift. Your fight at the Red Core Zone was seen. Unofficially, you're Earth's strongest Climber. Officially… we need your help."
Zuvanox stepped beside SeTa, eyes glowing with layered menace.
"I'm only here for six hours," SeTa replied. "I don't have time to save the world."
"We don't need you to save it. Just buy us time. Clear a few dungeons, show strength, stabilize morale."
"No."
She blinked. "No?"
"No—unless—you agree to my terms."
"What terms?"
"I want complete independence. No tracking, no surveillance. I want full jurisdiction over a plot of land within a major city, protected and resourced under GAA cooperation."
"What for?"
"A sanctuary. For orphaned children. Tower rejects. Survivors."
She studied him carefully. "That's... not what we expected."
"It's non-negotiable."
"...Fine. We'll draft a memorandum within the hour. But I'll need you to show the world you're on our side. Help with one dungeon. Then we'll have the clout to push your sanctuary through official channels."
SeTa paused. The child he'd helped earlier flashed through his mind. Terrified eyes. Cracked lips. No shoes.
"Where's the dungeon?" he asked.
"Downtown. Class D. But intel suggests it's starting to mutate. Possibly a C."
"I'll clear it in one hour."
She raised an eyebrow. "One?"
"Time is ticking."
With a gesture, Zuvanox vanished into his shadow. SeTa stepped forward as if melting into the mist.
"Alert your handlers," he added. "The Voidborn Strategist has returned."
Then he disappeared, a black ripple in the rain.