Genesis of the Apocalypse

A hot summer day. I’m around ten—maybe eleven. The sun’s about to set; I’m walking home from the market with my mom. We’ve picked up some vegetables and a few things for dinner. I say the sky looks beautiful. Mom smiles. “You’re right, my boy.”

When I tilt my head up again, it isn’t the sun I see, but a colossal ship. I don’t understand what I’m looking at. Mom squeezes my hand. A white light spreads from the ship, and before I can grasp what’s happening, everything is wreckage, smoke, and fire. I’m hurled to the ground—at least a hundred meters away. A few bones are broken. It takes time to pull myself together, but I finally stand.

I lose my mom in the blast. I search for her in desperation. I stagger back to where we were before the explosion—she’s there, on the ground, motionless. I can only stare; I can’t even bring myself to go to her side. Words lodge in my throat. The only thing I remember is my scream.

I can’t leave my mother. That’s when a strange creature appears. Terrified, I crawl under a slab of rubble to hide. The creature approaches her body—and starts to eat. That’s the moment my hatred for them is born.

Soldiers begin to pour in; a merciless battle erupts. Shells and missiles burst in the air. I’m still wedged under the same wreckage, trembling, wondering when this nightmare will end. A nurse finds me, hoists me onto a stretcher, and hauls me away. I pass out from blood loss; everything after that is a blur.

When I wake, I’m in a tent. The nurse who carried me comes in and asks, “How are you feeling?” I’m still in shock; I can’t speak—the words won’t come. It takes three months for the trauma to loosen its grip. By the end of those three months, I start to talk again. The war goes on; the aliens have come to invade Earth—this isn’t a movie, it’s real.

The fighting lasts about three years. In the end, they pull back, but they leave a message: “We will return.” The newspapers show nothing but ruin. All the nations decide to unite. The loss is immense; nearly a third of the world is dead. It’s clear they’ll come back harder and in greater numbers. The World Council forms a special army under the name Elite Unit: at most a thousand—maybe fifteen hundred—but terrifyingly strong. Their raw physical power is off the charts, almost superheroic.

The reason is an experiment. They tamper with human genetics, granting extraordinary physical capacity and unique abilities. The side effects are severe: if the procedure fails, you die. So they can’t do it for everyone, and the success rate is higher in the young. The age window to join the Elite Unit is 16–35. I start training. For two years I hammer my body and mind—strength, speed, agility, mental discipline—everything.

And that brings us to today: 02/17/2032. I’ve turned seventeen. The entrance exam for the Elite Unit is in two days. I’m one step closer to my mother’s revenge. But I’m not overly excited; I’ve been waiting for this day for years. Even if the world ends, my resolve won’t change.

— I’ll run down to the market and grab a drink.

When I get there, I spot a soldier. Maybe I can squeeze a few tips out of him about the exam.

Kiyoshi: “Hey, hi. I’m Kiyoshi. I’m taking the Elite Unit exam tomorrow. I really want to join.”
Soldier: “Hey, Kiyoshi. Taking the exam, huh? Good luck, kid. Can’t give you much, but I know a few things—if you want to hear them.”
— Any info is better than none.
Kiyoshi: “Please, I’d appreciate it.”
Soldier: “Winning the exam is nice, but what really matters is your color.”
Kiyoshi: “Color? What do you mean?”
Soldier: “You’re assigned a color based on your power.”
Kiyoshi: “Based on how strong I am?”
Soldier: “I don’t fully get it either. I had a buddy in the Unit—he might be a proctor for the exam. We were close when he first got in. I asked, ‘What’s your rank?’ He said, ‘No ranks, just colors.’ I asked, ‘Your color?’ He said, ‘Red.’ I asked, ‘Is red high?’ He said, ‘No.’ ‘Then what is it?’ He said, ‘Your power.’ Didn’t make much sense to me, and I didn’t press. That’s all I’ve got, Kiyoshi.”
— Not exactly helpful.
Kiyoshi: “Thanks anyway. What’s your name, by the way?”
Steve: “Steve, kid. And thank you. Good luck on the exam.”

The day arrives. I wake up early, eat breakfast, and head straight to the Unit’s base—about an hour and a half from my place. At the gate they ask for my ID and exam documents; I hand them over. I get inside without trouble and move to the waiting room. The exam’s at 10:00; I showed up at 08:00.

— I figured I’d be the first one here, but there’s a girl already waiting. Should I go talk to her?

Ayame: “Hello, are you here for the exam?”
Kiyoshi: “Yeah, I am. You too?”
— I wasn’t expecting her to speak first; she seems a bit shy.
Ayame: “Yes, I’m here for the exam… I’m a little nervous.”
— A little? Her hands are drenched in sweat.
Kiyoshi: “Yeah, I’m a little nervous too.”
Ayame: “I thought I was the only one.”
— She’s odd, but not a bad person.
Kiyoshi: “Do you know anything about the exam?”
Ayame: “Unfortunately, no. I heard they’ll explain it right before it starts.”
— I didn’t expect her to know, but it was worth a try.
Kiyoshi: “Anyway, good luck.”
Ayame: “Thanks, you too.”

Ten minutes to go. Looks like most people have arrived—roughly a hundred. I actually expected more; we need as many soldiers as we can get for the war against them.

— Where’s the proctor, anyway?

Five minutes later, a Unit soldier with a red armband steps onto the stage; I’m guessing he’s the proctor.

Proctor: “Everyone, eyes on me!”
— Did he have to shout?
Proctor: “First off, joining this Unit means you’re ready to lay down your life for the world. Now I’ll explain the rules. The exam has four parts. I’ll start with Part One. In Part One, you’ll be given an obstacle course, and your time will be recorded. At the end of the course, you’ll see how many minutes it took you to finish. Then we move on to Part Two. In Part Two, several combat dummies will appear; you’ll strike them in sequence. Each dummy has a power gauge; at the end of the part you’ll see the damage you dealt. That’s all for now—the other parts will be explained when it’s their turn.”

— What?! When is he going to explain the other parts?
The waiting room fills with murmurs; everyone’s asking why they won’t explain all four parts. I don’t get it either, but I don’t dwell on it.

Proctor: “Silence! The exam starts soon. If your name lights up above the door, enter!”

After about thirty people go in, my name lights up over the door. I head straight there. As I pass, Ayame gives me a little wave from afar—“Good luck”—and I wave back before stepping inside. It’s pitch black.

— Why is it dark? Where’s the course?

Two or three minutes later, the lights come on. A voice over the speakers—the proctor.

Proctor: “Kiyoshi, you have five minutes. Use them to prepare however you like. When the siren sounds, the course begins.”
Kiyoshi: “Understood.”

I wait out the five minutes in stillness. I don’t get the jitters; I sink deeper into focus. I take my stance. I wait for the siren. Even my sweat feels frozen.

The siren blares.
I’m ready.