I tell this story as a nameless man, as nothing more than someone who has nothing better to do but write down this tale. I laugh bitterly now as I clutch this pen in my hands. It's funny, isn't it? I say I am nameless, for such things are unneeded. And yet the story all starts, with a name.

 

His name was 'Sword.'

Earth-shaker. Man-slayer. Sword Saint. The undefeatable battle god. The name thatechoed across continents. Even the most remote nomads in the frozen North, or the forgotten souls in the slums of the South, told his stories around a campfire or an old metal pot, boiling that day's gruel. That the swings of his blade turned him into a deity, a force of nature, an inevitable fate waitng for its victims. His strikes were swift, graceful, almost divine. Some calimed he was a god; others whispered he was a demon. But one thing was clear: No one, in all of Erisen, surpassed Sword, whether it be the past, present or the future.

 

I tell this tale of the one who tore the world asunder, before slotting the pieces together to make a world anew. A monster who appeared from nowhere, conquering kings, razing armies, and setting alight nations. A being who held the heavens. in the palm of his hand. This is the story of the man who overcame the world.

 

***

 

"Starting Project Pharo."

I didn’t question the voice in my head. I didn’t wonder why it was there. I wasn’t thinking about what those three words meant. No, my mind was too occupied. I was stuck in a hole, two hundred feet deep, in the heart of a cave so dark that not even the faintest glimmer of light dared to reach me. The only sounds were the eerie skittering of bugs, the hiss of snakes, and the restless slither of lizards.

Oh, and the terrified stranger beside me. He wasn’t much help.

But before that, let’s rewind.

 

My name was Reid Russell. Twenty-two. No parents. Fresh out of the most prestigious academy in the Northern Continent, having majored in Chrona Engineering, Battle Strategy, Technology and the odd Hand-to-Hand combat. My life was mapped out in front of me like some pre-written script—success, respect, and wealth. My future? Perfectly seasoned and incredibly tasty. My only family, my younger sister, far away on the Western Continent in some boarding school, hadn’t heard from me in months, and vice versa. Everything was going right, until came the man in black.

 

He stood at the edge of my doorstep, waiting, as I returned from my daily run. He was dressed totally in black, and I couldn't see any part of his body - even his hands were wrapped tightly in black leathy gloves and his face was covered with an opaque, black, featureless mask. And my head went up to his chin. It was pretty damn scary.

“I greet you, sir.” His voice was smooth, commanding, and creepily calm. "Would you be interested in aiding the war effort?"

“The war effort?” I blinked, confused. “Against the Skathers?”

“What other war is there, sir?” he asked, as if the answer should’ve been obvious.

 

Pause. I should explain to you what we just yapped about. You see, my world is called Erisen, and it's split between five main continents in this one big land mass - North, South, East, West and Central. I come from the Northern Continent, which Is just as well because it's the farthest away from the South. No one wants to be near the South. Because it's a nest of aliens. 10 years ago, this giant mothership that blotted out the sky appeared above the Southern Continent and dropped billions of alien monsters called 'Skathers' all over it, and in a night, Erisen lost on of its continents. It DID force the other four to stop bickering and fighting each other, and band together to fight the threat, though, and we also gave them this cheesy nickname 'The Swarm'. Thus, here we are, at war against an alien species, with nothing to aid us but the natural energy this world runs on - chronoplasma (chrona for short). The reason they came was because of chrona too. It's fed by the Prisma Stream, an invisible channel of incredibly powerful energy that wraps around the whole world, harnessed by five reactors, one in each continent built two hundred years ago. It's said that they've never fallen before (except the one in the South which was flattened by a big spaceship), and the 20,000-word meter-long sheet of paper send by my headmaster to the Eastern Continent's Chronoplasma Engineering Research Institute essentially tells them that I'm good at playing around with the stuff. So yeah, my life was laid out before me. No danger grappling around with alien monsters like those muscle monsters in the combat division, and it pays well too.

 

Well, I guess I could’ve walked away. I could’ve stayed in my lane. But no. I had to ask,

“How do you want me to help? I’m already heading to the Chronoplasma Institute in Central.”

The man’s eyes glinted beneath his cloth, showing sudden interest.

“A scientist? Perhaps you’d be interested in something... more.”

"More?" I repeated, dumbfounded.

He withdrew a rolled-up parchment from his cloak.

I unrolled the paper. "Recruiting talented individuals for the greatest project ever undertaken in Erisen," I read aloud, my brow furrowing. "For… Project… Pharo?"

"It's pronounced 'Fair-roh," he says helpfully.

“Right. Lasts one week... pays 300,000 Imperials…” I stared at the number, my eyes widening. "Wait... that's enough to buy sixteen mansions and live without working for the rest of my life!"

"Yes," the man confirmed. "I thought you might be interested."

 

I thought about it for a moment. I had three months of freedom before I began my work at the Institute. A week-long project with such a ridiculous payout? It was hard to say no. But I should’ve. I should’ve stopped and wondered what this Project Pharo truly was. I should’ve asked myself why a giant in a black robe was waiting on my doorstep, inviting this random dude while offering to pay a sum that would only be possible for royalty, when there were many more MUCH more talented people in the world. I should've used my brains. But instead, I signed.

The next day, everything changed.

 

I came home to find my door wide open. As soon as I stepped inside, I was jumped instantly by forty guys in - you guessed it - all-black clothing. My training? Useless. No amount of hand-to-hand combat could save me from a legion of ninjas. And there, now you know the story of an idiot and the world’s most violent scam. You sign a contract, you get a free party you never asked for with a bunch of uninvited guests who want to give you a hug, and the scammers get you.