Need to rewind the chaos? Catch up on Birth of the Warriors—it’s the previous story.
Birth of the Warriors
WarriorVerse is an officially sanctioned, reader-supported transmission. To access classified updates and bolster ongoing operations, consider enlisting as a free or paid operative.
The light came without warning. The world ended before anyone could blink.
Recommended score: “An End, Once and For All” — a requiem for a broken world.
Viperial City – PRIME Emergency Station | 11:06 AM
14 hours after the Luxigen Surge…
James wakes up in silence. The ceiling above him is white—too white—and sterile. The lights hum like an exposed nerve. For a moment, he forgets where he is.
Then, the pain strikes.
A sharp, pulsing sting erupts through his ribs and spine as he tries to sit up.
“Don’t,” says a voice beside him. “Just rest.”
James turns his head, vision blurry. A tall man sits in a chair near the gurney, holding a tablet that glows dimly in his hands.
Director Wilson Savage.
“You,” James breathes. His voice cracks with confusion and contempt.
Savage doesn’t look up. “You were out for fourteen hours. You were involved in a ravaging car accident when the Surge hit. Internal swelling. Bone destruction. Frankly, you shouldn’t have survived the crash.”
James clenches his teeth. “What are you doing here?”
Savage sighs, “I came here as soon as I saw your name listed as one of the survivors. I couldn’t believe it. I had to see for myself. Moira’s son—staring right at me.”
The mention of his mother lands like a blow. James’ expression hardens.
“Don’t you mention her fucking name.”
Savage looks back down into the tablet, rubbing his bald head. “That’s fair.”
He turns the screen toward James—satellite footage, casualty reports, seismic maps.
“The Luxigen Surge wiped out half of the city. 4.4 million people—gone. Half the city leveled. Of the few thousand still breathing, over 400 are…different now. You might be one of them.”
James closes his eyes, forcing back the wave of emotion.
“They pulled you from the wreckage. Your body was mangled—beyond recognition. Your bones were shattered…but glowing. Golden fractures lit up across your skin like crackled marble. It was like your body refused to die.”
There’s a pause. For the first time, Savage’s voice cracks. He hasn’t slept for a full day. His face shows it—creased, unshaven, old.
“If you have abilities…we could use your help. There are already reports of superhumans wreaking havoc on the unaffected parts of Viperial City.”
James chuckles. “Oh, now you want me? After all this time…no thanks.”
He groans as he sits up, his body still in pain.
Savage leans forward. “Your mother would have—“
“Don’t you dare,” James spits. “Say her name again, and I’ll kill you.”
He yanks the IV out of his arm. Savage stands up and presses a hand against his chest, trying to stop him from leaving.
“James. Just stay here.”
James shoves him away—and, without realizing his own strength, he launches Savage back into the chair, which slides across the floor.
James stares at his trembling hand.
His fingertips glow faintly gold for a second—then fade.
“What the hell…” he mutters.
Savage scrambles out of the chair. “See, James? Let us help. Please.”
“NO! You’re the reason she’s dead! PRIME left me behind. I raised myself. That car? That crash? Everything I had of her was in there. And now it’s all gone. You didn’t just take my mom. You took what was keeping me sane.”
He stumbles off the gurney, gritting his teeth as bruised muscles protest.
His body is healing too fast—it scares him more than the pain.
Savage tries again. “James… I’m sorry. I can fix this. We need you.”
James stops in the doorway.
“Need me? There is no me. I’m nothing now…”
And then he’s gone—limping out the door.
Savage calls after him one last time.
“You’re not nothing, James.
You survived.”
But James is already gone—limping into a world on fire.
***
***
Three Days Later…
In the shadowy streets of Viperial City, chaos reigns. PRIME Divisions have initiated widespread shutdowns and civilian evacuations. The air is thick with gunfire, and the thunder of distant explosions reverberates through the ruins like a war drum.
Amid the collapse, a man calling himself Vantor has risen—driven by vengeance and betrayal. Rallying the disillusioned, he leads a growing superhuman syndicate known as the Rebels.
Their war is not just one of survival, but also one of domination. They fight to take back the city they once called home. By any means necessary.
Viperial is no longer a city. It’s a battleground
South Viperial City – 108th St. and Denver Ave. | October 14, 2014 | 5:43 PM
Rebels are attacking an Ares extraction team as they are escorting an Iris convoy of civilians out of the city.
Ares units open fire on three Rebels charging at them. One of them, Visor, generates a shimmering force field that absorbs the bullet spray. Another Rebel, Shard, freezes the ground beneath the soldiers. An Ares agent slips— just as Shove uses his telekinesis to reverse the bullets mid-air, driving them back into the soldier’s chest. He drops instantly.
An Ares soldier rolls a grenade towards the trio.
“Grenade! Shard heads up!” Visor yells.
He kicks the grenade toward Shard, who sprays it with a cold burst, catches it in one hand, and smashes it on the pavement—shattering it into frosted shards.
Shard grins. “So much for that.”
Suddenly, another Rebel drops into the fray. A pyrokinetic—Ignasia—hurls a fireball the size of a beach ball at the Ares vehicle, blowing it apart in a roaring explosion. The last of the Ares soldiers begin to retreat, but Ignasia encircles them in a ring of flame.
One Ares soldier turns and opens fire. Shard raises an ice wall, thick and translucent, blocking every round.
“Hey there, Ignasia. How’s it going?” Shard calls.
Ignasia returns a smile. “Great Shard.” She tightens her gloves. “I completed my last two runs and figured I’d help you boys out before returning to base. They’re really close this time. Do you think they know where we’re holding up shop?”
Shard shrugs. “Not a chance. Visor and Shove did most of the work. I kinda skated by like I always do.”
Visor scoffs. “Yeah, you’re always doing just that. We need to finish this team before reinforcements come. Whaddaya say we just kill ‘em now, huh?”
Shove kneels, tying his shoe. “Yeah, I agree.”
Shard points. “Shove, really? Tying your shoes at a time like this? We’re actively being fired upon.”
“Speaking of being fired upon.” Ignasia cuts in. “Snowman—split the wall. I got these guys.”
Shard bows. “Yes, your fiery Highness.”
Ignasia gathers flame in both hands while Shard breaks the wall in two. The moment it opens, she unleashes a stream of scorching fire at the remaining Ares soldiers, catching them in a blazing torrent. She laughs maniacally as the soldiers scramble—screaming, burning alive. One by one, they fall.
Shove and Visor begin applauding.
“Woohoo!” They cheer. “Ignasia, you did it again.”
Shard taps her on her back. “Like you always do. What will we do without you?”
Just then—a man leaps through the fire.
It’s James Sanders.
He wears a ski mask, an old, yellow rugby jersey of his, with a navy “V” spray-painted across his shirt, and metal plates attached to his shoulders. He stares the Rebels down.
“You guys are so tough facing someone you can easily beat,” he says. “Try doing that with me.”
They burst into laughter.
“What’s the V for, huh, kid?” Visor asks. “Vendetta?”
James adjusts his gauntlets. “No. It’s for Valor.”
He charges.
Unaware of his powers, they’re stunned he gets within inches in a blink.
Valor punches Visor in the ribs, spins, and backfists Shard across the jaw—both go down. Ignasia kicks Valor in the chest—launching him backward. He lands hard, rolling onto a burnt Ares soldier. Blood smears across his jersey.
He looks down at himself.
“That blood is going to be yours next,” Ignasia warns. “Walk away.”
Valor cracks his knuckles. His second skin begins to glow and thrum like a heartbeat.
He smirks. “I’m only getting started.”
He focuses. A golden hue spreads across his body. The hum grows louder—but only he can hear it.
Is this a warning? Does this skin have a breaking point?
“Your funeral,” Visor says.
Valor takes off again. He jukes left to avoid Ignasia’s first fireball—rolls under the second. Shove prepares to push him, but Valor kicks him in the chest. He ducks a wild haymaker from Visor—counters with two jabs to the face. Valor rolls Ignasia’s flame again. He tackles her and smashes her into the ground.
He headbutts her multiple times before she launches him off of her.
Shard hits him with a cold burst while he is in mid-air, and Shove slams him down faster.
That damages him. His second skin thrums louder.
Each crack glows brighter. Each movement stings deeper.
“See Valor,” Shard sighs. “You’re out of your league.”
“We outman you four to one. There’s no way you win.” Ignasia says.
“We’ll let you live.” Shove pleads. “Just leave.”
Valor slides himself back and stops once he bumps into an Ares officer. He notices there is a shield under the soldier.
The soldier is burnt to a crisp—but this shield is still pristine. Is it high-grade metal?
Valor grabs the tip of the shield before anyone notices.
He chuckles. “There’s just one thing I like about odds. I love it when they’re high.”
He leaps up—launching the shield directly toward Shove—cracking him in the face and sending him to the pavement.
It ricochets back to Valor, and he catches it.
“Hell yeah.”
Ignasia shouts and unleashes fire toward Valor. He holds the shield up—blocking the intense heat.
Wow. I can’t even feel the heat on this side. What a shield.
He rolls to his right, lines up a shot, and throws.
Shard fails to catch the shield, and it whacks him in the chest—coming back to Valor. He catches it and uppercuts Shard in the chin with the tip of the shield—jutting him into the air.
Valor blocks another incoming fireball with the shield and ricochets his shield from the ground to smack Ignasia in her abdomen. Valor charges—two punches, a grab, and a knee to the face. He finishes his assault by clotheslining her, sending her flipping backward.
Visor creates two shields and blocks all of Valor’s incoming attacks. He doesn’t have an impressive fighting pedigree like the other Rebels.
Valor unleashes his full strength more and more with each attack until he finally ruptures Visor’s shield. He grabs Visor by his neck, crushes his throat, and slams him into the ground, knocking him out.
“How about that?” Valor says confidently. “You guys aren’t all that tough, it seems.”
Valor turns to the remaining trio, barely coming to.
“Alright, who’s next?” Valor asks. “I got hella time.”
Shove lifts the shield with telekinesis and spins it around his body. It accelerates—then rockets forward, slamming into Valor and sliding him back twenty feet.
Ignasia bombards him with fireballs. They explode around him, sending him into the flames. His jersey burns away, revealing a golden second skin beneath.
This isn’t skin. It’s like…a hardened…aura.
He pats down the fire, gritting his teeth.
“She’s gotta go,” he mutters.
He vaults the ring of fire, sprinting. Shard lays ice, but Valor keeps his balance. He throws the shield to the right–away from them.
Shove reaches out to stop him—but the forgotten shield arcs back, striking him in the head.
Valor catches it, blocks Shard’s ice beam, and attacks.
He punches Shard in the face, knees him in the gut, and dropkicks him. Shard stumbles into Ignasia—
—and Valor slams her to the ground with his shield.
Shard strikes him with an ice hammer.
His Hardened Aura cracks.
It glows. Pulses. Each movement stings deeper.
Another hit.
BOOM.
His Hardened Aura bursts.
A golden shockwave explodes outward—Shard crashes into rubble.
Valor collapses to his knees over Ignasia, clutching his chest.
What is this? My body’s on fire…
Ignasia comes to and punches him in the face. Again. Again.
He blocks one—and counters with a brutal hook.
She drops. But he doesn’t stop.
He keeps hitting her. Blood splatters on the ground.
From the rubble, Shard stumbles up. He sees his chance.
“I gotta go,” he mutters.
He blasts a wave of ice, freezing Valor’s legs—and his own teammates.
Valor, gritting through the pain, hurls his shield—
THWACK—right into Shard’s head.
He collapses, unconscious, and Valor catches the shield as it returns.
“Yeah, you better run,” he mutters.
He breaks free from the ice, looks at the frozen Rebels, then shrugs.
“As far as first days on the job go…”
He claps once. Then twice.
“Not bad…for day one.”
He turns to leave—then hears static.
Radio chatter.
He walks over to a downed Ares soldier and picks up the radio.
“You won’t be needing this…will you?”
He puts it in his side pocket—and runs off.
Moments later, Prometheus operatives arrive. Their boots crunch over rubble and scorched earth. They see the ruin.
And the frozen Rebels.
They were too late.
***
Crystal Palms – PRIME Emergency Substation #3 | 8:06 PM
Fluorescent lights hum overhead. Clean Floors. Reinforced walls. Triage centers stacked with equipment pulled from Olympus base.
Tyson Willis sits upright in a reinforced medical chair, arms crossed, jaw clenched. He’s finally been medically cleared. The door opens, and Director Wilson Savage walks in.
“Sergeant Willis, correct?” Savage asks.
“Correct, sir,” Willis responds. “And you are?”
“Wilson Savage. Director of PRIME. How are you feeling?”
“Confused. I should’ve been dead. Am I here because I’m not?”
A brief pause. Savage hesitates—then nods.
“Yes…but no. You’re here because we need your help. You see, my science project blew up—causing millions of casualties. On the other side of that destructive coin…a few hundred survived. And they were changed. You were one of them.”
“Changed how?” Tyson asks. “I don’t feel any different.”
“You were pulled from under a collapsed power line. Now, with the Surge, we clocked nearly ten million volts racing through the city—so you could’ve experienced that at any given moment. That type of voltage can melt a tank if exposed long enough—you should’ve been vaporized. But you weren’t. That’s why you’re here. I think you have superpowers now.”
Tyson's eyes widen.
He’s joking, right?
“How can I have superpowers?” He mutters. “That’s not a thing.”
“It wasn’t a thing…until four days ago. Now, there are over 400 survivors just like you. Sadly, most of them have turned to crime. It’s understandable—given that I caused their lives to unravel—but they’re hurting a lot of people. You’re a Marine. You already sense what that could lead to. I need help protecting the people who can’t protect themselves. And I believe you’re the right man for the job.”
“I see,” Tyson says as he rises slowly from the chair, his body still sore.
“The way I see it,” he says, rolling his shoulder, “if I say no, you probably lock me up. I know all about PRIME. Had a few run-ins while on tour—I know how you operate. So there’s only two options.”
Tyson squares his stance. Savage subtly shifts, preparing—just in case.
“I either go with you and fight back,” Tyson says, “or I try to walk, and PRIME sends a few bad boys to bring me down. Am I right?”
Savage exhales. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Tyson chuckles.
“So when do I start?”
***
Ready for what comes next in The Surge: Aftermath? Chapter 2: Thunderstruck! is waiting.