Int. Blake's Room | Kilimanjaro, Tanzania | Morning.
Blake Balthasar, a 24-year-old university dropout, sits in a dimly lit room. A small fan spins slowly above. A small, old television plays Global News.
News Anchor (on-screen)
"Another explosion in Seoul hospital has occurred as the D.V. syndrome continues spreading rapidly. Reports say victims of this new gen-disease, currently referred to as 'Mindless,' are developing inhuman abilities, making them nearly impossible for doctors to control."
[CUT TO: TV SCREEN]
Footage shows people being rescued after the explosion. A doctor on a gurney screams in pain, his arm torn apart and face bloodied, as he's rushed to an ambulance.
Blake drew in a slow, steady breath and let it drift out, then mutters, "It all happened so fast."
Suddenly, his phone buzzes. A message from "Babu" reads: "Come to the market when you wake up."
News Anchor (continues):
"Authorities urge citizens to avoid direct exposure to products made from Datium—a mineral once praised for its technological potential, now seen as the root of the outbreak."
Later that day in a Local Repair Shop.
Blake works part-time at his grandfather's electronic repair shop. A customer enters.
Customer (whispering):"You still sell those Datium chargers, the ones that… you know"
Blake jaws tightens.
Blake (dry):"Banned for a good reason."
Customer:"But they worked, man. They made everything better. Faster."
Blake gazes at him with indifference.
Customer (leaving, muttering):"Blah…Blah… Blah. Whatever, man."
Babu (entering):"Blake, deliver this to Mrs. Monde. Take the back route—the city's locked down tighter than ever."
[CUT TO: Garage]
Blake starts a moped.
Streets of Kilimanjaro | Noon.
Blake cruises down the tense, crowded streets on his moped, its engine buzzing quietly amidst the distant chaos. The streets are alive with movement, but there's an undeniable air of unease. Billboard's flash urgent warnings: SHOULD THEY FORGET — RUN.
As Blake navigates through the traffic, soldiers are posted on every corner, stopping and scanning citizens' IDs. His grip tightens on the handlebars. His moped slows as he passes, the feeling of being watched settling in.
In the distance, a girl screams, her voice breaking through the tension. Blake looks toward her, his face grim. The girl stumbles, eyes wide and crazed, as soldiers rush to subdue her. Blake instinctively looks away, but it's too late—their eyes have already locked on him.
A group of soldiers begins to approach Blake. One of them calls out.
Soldier 1:"Hey kid! You think you can just ride around here without a proper Identification?"
Blake's heart races as he slows to a halt. His palms sweat, and his moped shakes under him. He can feel their eyes piercing through him, the weight of their authority heavy in the air.
Soldier 2 (mockingly):"What's this? A moped? What are you running from, huh?"
Blake, unable to look them in the eye, keeps his head low, hoping the moment passes. His chest tightens as they get closer, their laughter filling the air.
Soldier 1 (scoffing):"You better turn around and get out of here, before we decide to remind you who's in charge."
Blake starts the engine again, but it stutters. He fumbles with the throttle, frustration clear on his face, as the soldiers watch with amusement. The tension hangs in the air, thick and suffocating.
The moment passes as the soldiers move on, but Blake's hands tremble. He accelerates quickly, desperate to distance himself from the encounter, the sting of humiliation lingering.
[Flashback Montage]
Narrator (voice-over):
"It all began with a discovery—one that changed everything. Deep in the heart of Tanzania, miners unearthed a glowing mineral, Datium. At first, it was praised as humanity's greatest advancement."
[News Headlines]
"Humanity's Next Leap Forward"
"Military Research begins..."
"Datium Powers Everything: Homes, Tech, and Vehicles— A New Era Begins."
[News Footage – A bustling city, vibrant with the promise of new technology.]
The mineral's glow illuminates homes, military vehicles, and streets. People's lives seem to be enhanced, with technology advancing at an unprecedented rate.
Narrator (voice-over, shifting tone):
"But progress came with a cost."
The news cycle spiraled into panic. Headlines flashed across screens with growing urgency:
Side effects begin: memory loss, aggression, unexplained violence.
Datium poisoning: a rising threat to humanity.
Reports of sudden deaths. Hospitals overwhelmed.
[Footage of Chaos]
A family, once thriving, now struggles as the effects of Datium begin to ravage their lives. A once peaceful street becomes chaotic, people fighting in the streets, desperate for answers. The glow of Datium seems ominous now, rather than hopeful.
Narrator (voice-over, serious):
"As Datium spread, it mutated. What began as a source of infinite power became a weapon of destruction. Governments faltered. Systems collapsed. The disease, later named D.V.S. (Datium Variant Syndrome), turned the world upside down."
[Cut to – Footage of Destruction]
Buildings collapse. Military forces are overrun. Scientists and experts scramble to understand the full extent of the disease. Reports of strange new individuals, now called 'Mindless,' surface across the world—beings who no longer resemble the people they once were.
Narrator (voice-over, sad):
"The world had forgotten its name, its purpose... and what it once was."
In the heart of Berlin, the city lay in ruins.
Fires, destroyed buildings, bodies. Soldiers fire at a D.V.S. patient, but bullets have no effect.
With a wave of his hand, the Mindless cuts soldiers in half. Blood everywhere. One soldier shakily grabs a knife.
The Mindless releases a scream so powerful, soldiers' heads explode. One soldier charge—but the Mindless vanishes, reappears behind him.
Mindless (whispers):"How does it feel to die?"
He bites the soldier's neck—his head comes off in one brutal bite.
Back in Kilimanjaro, Blake sat beside Babu and his cousin Zola, the three of them gathered around the flickering television. The room was silent but for the low hum of the broadcast, each face locked in a tense, breathless stare. On-screen, a live feed streamed from the Global Command Centre— a place far away, but now terrifyingly relevant.
The news anchor's voice cracked slightly as she spoke, her expression tight with barely contained panic.
Babu (faintly):"Wh… what is that?"
The glass slips from Babu's hand, shattering against the floor in a burst of sound and silence.
The television crackled with static before the anchor's voice cut through—tense, hurried.
"Breaking news from Chicago. A D.V. patient of unknown classification has killed at least forty-two civilians and nine soldiers. Estimated strength: unknown."
The screen shifted again.
A cloaked man emerged slowly through a thick veil of smoke, his figure blurred but deliberate. The Mindless, mid-rampage, stopped abruptly—its twisted face contorting, as if sensing something far more dangerous than itself.
Blake (nervously):"Who... who is that?"
Evening had fallen over the shattered heart of Berlin.
The once-vibrant city Centre stood in eerie silence, bathed in the flicker of distant fires and the dull pulse of emergency lights. The streets were broken, scattered with debris and the remnants of chaos. Soldiers stood guard at the edge of a containment zone, weapons raised, nerves on edge.
Soldier 1:"Stop! You're entering a containment zone."
The cloaked man didn't slow. He walked forward, silent and unwavering, ignoring the shouted warnings from the soldiers blocking his path.
One of them panicked. A shot rang out.
The bullet tore through the air—then suddenly slowed, suspended in motion, as if time itself had caught it by the throat. It hovered for a breathless second before detonating mid-air with a sharp, concussive burst of light and force.
A sudden ripple of force shattered the silence.
The Mindless creature unleashed a telekinetic blast, a wave of invisible power tearing through the air with reckless, violent fury. The very ground quaked beneath its force—but the cloaked man didn't flinch. In one fluid motion, he pivoted, smooth and silent—a ghost in motion—gliding effortlessly past the blast.
Then, he vanishes.
Mid-stride, his form flickers and dissolves in nothing. A heartbeat later, he reappears --right beside the Mindless, his presence sudden and chilling. Without removing the hand casually resting in his coat pocket, he slams the creature's head into the ground. The impact cracks the earth beneath them.
The mindless writhes, stunned, but he doesn't pause.
With an eerie calm, he grips the creature by the jaws, one hand still pocketed, the other tightening with impossible strength. His eyes remain unreadable as he rises into the air, lifting the thrashing being with him, higher and higher, as though gravity itself dares not interfere.
Mindless (gurgling):"who! who! Plea… please!"
Cloaked Man (coldly):"So you can talk?"
The sky splits with sound.
A thunderous whup-whup-whup cuts through the silence as a news helicopter breaks through the cloud cover, rotors churning the night. Its searchlight finds them instantly. The man and the creature, suspended mid-air like a scene torn from myth.
The light slams into his face.
For a moment, everything else fades, the chaos, the wind, the noise. His expression is still, eerily composed, the light carving sharp lines across his features. The mindless thrashes violently in his grip, but he doesn't budge.
Below, news anchors stammers on live feeds. Spectators on the ground freezes, faces lit by phone screens, all turned skyward. The world watches, transfixed by the ghostly figure hovering in the air --coat flapping, one hand holding the monster at bay.
In one fluid motion, faster than thought, quicker than death. His hand emerged from the shadowed depth of his pocket. No hesitation. No mercy. The world slowed to a crawl as his fingers found their mark.
CRACK.
The sound echoed like thunder breaking against stone. The mindless head separated from its vessel with sickening ease, torn away as if it were nothing more than a rotted fruit from a dying branch. For a heartbeat, the severed head hung suspended in the crimson-stained air, eyes still blinking with the last sparks of whatever consciousness had remained.
Then came the rain.
Blood cascading thick, viscous torrents --not the gentle patter of spring showers, but a flood of red that painted the earth in violent strokes. Each drop caught the dying light like rubies falling from heaven womb.
The man hovered in the air, suspended between earth and sky like some vengeful divine being surveying the aftermath of his judgment. His clothes were soaked in blood, hanging heavy against his frame, yet his face remained untouched—serene, composed, utterly unreadable.
Below him, the body swayed—headless, hollow—until gravity finally reclaimed it.
BOOM.
The ground exploded outward in concentric rings of devastation. Dust and debris erupted skyward in a perfect circle, the shockwave rippled through stone and soil, sending tremors racing across the landscape like the heartbeat of some awakening giant. The silence afterward was deeper than before.
The cloaked man still floats in mid-air, blood dripping from his hands. Below him, the lifeless body lies twisted on the cracked ground. Suddenly, the corpse beneath him began to glow.
A bright blue-white light bled from the body, spreading across the ruined flesh like liquid fire. It pulsed with unnatural energy, radiating outward in soft, rhythmic waves—as if the body still held some twisted remnant of life.
Cloaked man (confused, looking down):"What...?"
The light grows brighter. It pulses around the corpse, getting more intense.
The cloaked man's eyes widened, his calm demeanor cracking for the first time. He stared down at the glowing body, confusion flickering across his face. Whatever was happening—it defied even his understanding.
BOOM!
He drops from the sky, landing hard beside the body. The impact shakes the ground. He stands slowly, staring at the fading light around the body.
Cloaked man (whisper):"You don't see that every day."
The light flickers once... Twice...
Then disappears completely. Silence. The man turns toward the camera. His face is calm but different now. A glowing white crown mark appears on his skin. It burns bright like a brand.
His iris flashes pure white. They glow with cold fire.
A week had passed.
Morning sunlight filtered over the slopes of Kilimanjaro, casting long golden beams across Blake's quiet neighborhood. The air was still, yet heavy with something unspoken—fear, maybe, or awe.
The world hasn't stopped talking. Blake stands outside his house, sipping weak tea from a cracked mug. The murmur of a neighbor's television cuts through the morning breeze. He drifts closer, drawn by the news anchor's voice.
TV Anchor (from inside):"Witnesses claim the unknown man obliterated the D.V. with a single blow. Authorities still haven't identified him…"
Neighbor (shouting through window):"Did you see that guy? He crushed that thing like…! I swear—he was floating! Like, literally floating!"
Blake stiffens. His grip on the mug tightens. A flicker—the memory returns.
Blood. Screams. Empty throne. The crown on the stranger's neck. That impossible power.
His hand shakes violently. Uncontrollably. His fingers tremble like leaves in the storm. His eyes stare at his hand in shock. Fear creeps across his features.
Deep beneath the city of Seoul, inside the fortified halls of the Global Response Headquarters, a tension-choked silence gripped the war room.
Around a long, steel table sat an assembly of global leaders—military commanders, government officials, and top scientists. Screens lined the walls, each displaying chaotic footage from cities across the world. The room is dim, lit only by screens displaying footage from the chaotic streets. Several analysts and soldiers surround a table. Commander Zozi (West Africa) stands stiff, arms crossed. An officer stares at the screen, visibly shaken.
Commander Zozi (voice cold):"So, that… was one of the marked ones?"
Officer #1:"Yes, ma'am. The footage shows a clear burn pattern on the neck. Same spot as the other cases. But this one was—different."
Analyst (cutting in, pointing at screen freeze-frame):"The pattern's sharper. More developed. We compared it to the others… and the energy spikes were off the charts. Higher than any we've documented so far."
Commander Zozi (dry):"And still no explanation for what these marks even mean?"
Officer #2:"There's a theory... that the markings indicate power levels. The more defined, the more dangerous. But nothing official."
Commander Zozi (scoffs):"We're past 'theory.' That thing killed over a dozen of our men. What would you call it?"
Analyst (pause, hesitant):"If the ones we've seen so far were the baseline... this one was something else. Possibly a… higher tier. Maybe not the highest. But close."
Commander Zozi:"So you're telling me there could be worse out there?"
A heavy silence. No one answers. Only the hum of machines and the distant sound of boots in the hallway.
Commander Zozi (slowly):"We need to find out how deep this rabbit hole goes. And fast."
On the monitor, the footage paused—frozen mid-frame.
The image of the cloaked man stood still in the smoke, but all eyes were drawn to one detail: the glowing mark on the side of his neck. A brilliant white crown, etched into his skin like a brand, pulsed faintly even in stillness.
Commander Zozi (smoothly, glancing at screen):"What about our mystery boy?"
Analyst (deliberately):"The media has designated him 'King'—a title derived from the distinct crown mark on his neck. It is notably different from the markings observed on the Mindless."
The room grows quiet. The air thickens with the weight of the information. Suddenly, the door opens with a sharp hiss. A woman walks in. Cold. Composed. Her very presence radiates authority, and every eye in the room is drawn to her. She steps forward with lethal confidence.
Mysterious Woman (voice cold, cutting):"Kings, huh?"
The room freezes for a split second. Everyone turns, and the sudden shift in energy. The woman's piercing gaze lands on Commander Zozi, who stammers back.
Commander Zozi (stumbling, nervous):"General Chae-won!"
General Chae-won (sneering):"Funny, isn't it? The moment a crown appears, everyone rushes to call it a king's mark."
(Smirking) "Maybe you forgot—crowns don't bow to gender."
She steps further into the room, her gaze sweeping over the others, as if daring anyone to challenge her presence.
General Chae-won (eye narrowing):"I'm not here to fit your labels."
The camera zooms in on the woman's neck. A white crown tattoo pulses faintly against her skin, glowing with a quiet menace.
Across the globe, television screens crackled with urgent broadcasts.
The voice of a weary narrator carried over scenes of escalating chaos.
"Governments have declared a global emergency. Elite response units are being mobilized."
On-screen, blurry footage showed a battle in progress—an armored figure clashing violently with a Mindless in the middle of a burning city street. The screen shook with the force of their blows.
"A special unit has been established," the voice continued. "The D.V. Force—nicknamed 'Hunters.'"
The tone dropped lower, darker.
"Rumors swirl. Some nations may already be planning to weaponize the Awakened. What began as a miracle... may now end the world."
A beat of silence followed.
Night settled heavily over Blake's room.
The air was still. The only sound was the faint hum of insects outside and the occasional creak of the old walls. Inside, Blake twisted beneath his sheets, caught in the grip of a fevered dream. Sweat clung to his brow, and his eyes moved rapidly beneath closed lids.
"No… no…" he mumbled; voice barely audible.
In his dream, chaos reigned.
Flames devoured everything—buildings crumbled into ash. A throne loomed, forged from blood and bone. Screams echoed in the void, distant yet deafening. Shadows twisted into things that couldn't be named.
His breathing grew faster. Shallow. Panicked.
"Stop…" he whimpered. "Please stop…"
Then, without warning, his eyes flew open.
For a single, terrifying moment—they glowed bright gold. A vivid, unnatural brilliance.
And then… just as suddenly… the light vanished.
Suddenly, he gasped sharply, "Aaah!" and shot upright in bed, his chest rising and falling quickly. Sweat poured down his forehead, soaking his hair and making his shirt stick to his skin.