Chương 1: Raining Blood

It was raining blood, and everywhere the crimson droplets fell, people were dying. Fortunately for Lorenzo Locke, he'd had the foresight to bring an umbrella. But when he'd left the apartment earlier to take Murphy on her walk, armed with a leash, an umbrella, and the walking cane he'd wielded for the last four years, warnings of a light midday shower had not prepared him for what was now occurring all across Golden Gate Park.

Between the moment the first drop hit the back of his neck and the time it took to glance down, snap open the umbrella, raise it overhead, and look back up, the world had changed. Some people were falling to the ground, seizing. Others lay completely still. The rest, like Enzo, stood frozen, staring. Then the screaming started. People ran in every direction at once. Others knelt beside bodies, both still and seizing, shaking shoulders and sobbing names. A woman cradled a golden retriever that wasn't moving.

Everywhere Enzo looked, someone was dying or already dead. He looked down. Murph crouched at the end of her leash, six months old and black-and-white except for the crimson staining her coat. The whites of her eyes had turned red. Her ears flattened against her skull as she lowered into a snarl, the sound rumbling from her chest.

"Hey, Murph." Enzo lowered himself on his good leg, leaning on the cane, and held the umbrella over both of them.

"Easy, girl. It's okay." It wasn't okay. The panicked shouting around him grew louder. Murph went rigid. Her body locked, then convulsed. She collapsed onto her side, legs thrashing, but the snarl never stopped. Even seizing, she kept growling. Someone slammed into Enzo from behind. His knee buckled and he went down hard, the umbrella tearing from his grip as he hit the grass. The cane landed somewhere beside him. Rain soaked through his hair, shirt, and pants, warm and thick.

He pushed himself up on his good leg, blinking blood from his eyes. A knot of people fought over his umbrella. Hands tore at the fabric, bodies shoving and grappling as if it were the last life vest on a sinking ship. One of them staggered, hands going slack. Her legs folded and she hit the grass seizing, eyes rolling back. She'd been fine a moment earlier. The others scrambled away from her as if death throes were contagious, then lunged after the umbrella with even more desperation.

One of them stepped onto Murph's hind leg. She yelped in pain, then twisted and sank her teeth into the man's calf. Enzo lunged toward his dog, pain shooting up his right leg, feet slipping on the grass. Not fast enough. The man holding the umbrella wrenched his leg out of Murph's jaw, glanced down, and kicked her in the stomach, eliciting another high-pitched yelp.

"Get the fuck away from my dog!" He charged forward and shoved the man with both hands. Something behind his left eye snapped. The air exploded. A concussive boom ripped outward from Enzo's palms, scattering the rain in a perfect sphere. The man shot backward as if fired from a cannon. He flew twenty meters before crashing to the ground, sliding to a stop, completely still. The umbrella tumbled through the air and landed on the walking path. Enzo looked down at his hands. He had no idea what had just happened.

Around him, everyone froze. Stared at him. Then the shouting started again. One woman screamed.

"You killed him!" Another yelled.

"What did you do?" A third lunged for the half-forgotten umbrella. Enzo ignored them. The hysteria was misplaced given everything happening around them. Besides, he'd only pushed the guy. He wasn't responsible for any weird booms. Instead, he knelt beside Murph and scooped her up. She was still seizing, but now appeared unconscious. His cane lay somewhere in the grass behind him. Retrieving it meant putting her down. Balancing the pup in his arms, he took off across the park without looking back.

Adrenaline pushed back the pain as he limped, right leg disagreeing with his choices every other step. Around him, the same scene repeated. Bodies on the ground. People kneeling beside them, crying or frozen in shock. Others who'd been running or sheltering under trees moments ago now stumbled and fell, joining the bodies they'd been trying to avoid. A man sat cross-legged in the grass, staring at his hands as blood pooled in his palms. The air smelled wrong.

Like pennies and raw steak mixed with welding fumes, but almost disturbingly pleasant. He tried not to think about it. Murph's weight shifted in his arms. Still seizing, muscles locked and releasing in waves. Enzo adjusted his grip and kept walking. Each step without the cane sent a fresh reminder of the price of mistakes. The park ended at the sidewalk. And the street was even more chaotic. Cars sat gridlocked in both directions, some abandoned with doors hanging open, others still occupied.

A sedan had jumped the curb and slammed into a streetlight hard enough to bend the pole at a forty-five degree angle. Through the cracked windshield, the driver slumped forward against the steering wheel, the horn blaring without end. Others honked in short, frantic bursts as if adding to the chaos could clear the road. Windshield wipers worked overtime, smearing blood back and forth in useless arcs. Enzo stepped into the street, weaving between the vehicles.

Inside a minivan, a family huddled together in the back seat. The father in front turned and yelled something Enzo couldn't hear through the blood-streaked windows. Then reached over and locked the doors. A wise decision, based on everything he'd seen so far. A man staggered past, one hand pressed to his face, the other reaching toward a storefront. He pounded on the glass door, leaving red handprints. Inside, people who had been staring at the madness outside backed away, shaking their heads.

The door remained shut. The man's fist slowed against the glass. His knees buckled and he slid down the door, leaving a long red smear. No one moved to help. Blood dripped into Enzo's eyes again. He tried to wipe it with his shoulder, nearly dropped Murph, and had to stop and readjust. The puppy felt heavier with every step, dead weight in his arms. Her fur was slick with blood, making her slip in his grip. She whimpered without waking, a small, broken sound that cut through the sirens and shouting.

He looked down at her and tightened his hold. He blinked hard and kept moving, pain now pulsing up his leg. Across the street, two men grappled on the sidewalk, shouting. One shoved the other backward. A flash of light erupted between them, bright enough to leave spots in Enzo's vision. He flinched and looked away. When he turned back, one man was on the ground, the other running. Enzo didn't slow down. Whatever that was, it wasn't his problem.

A woman stumbled into his path half a block from home, tears cutting tracks through the blood on her face. She clutched a small bundle against her chest.

"Please," she sobbed.

"Please help. My baby—" Enzo stopped. The child hung limp in her arms, head lolled back at an angle that made his stomach turn. The small chest wasn't moving.

"I'm sorry." He shifted Murph's weight and stepped around the woman.

"There's nothing I can do."

"Please!" She grabbed at his sleeve, but he pulled away.

"I'm sorry," he said again, backing down the sidewalk. The woman's wail followed him down the block.

"My baby! Someone help my baby!" Enzo didn't look back. He'd seen enough to know the child was already gone. It wasn't until he was halfway down the block that he heard the splash-thud. He didn't turn around. Didn't need to. The woman's wailing had stopped, and that told him everything. He crossed another street, dodging a car that rolled slowly down the street. The driver wasn't moving. His building stood at the end of the block. Three stories, red brick, fire escape zigzagging down the front.

He'd never been so glad to see it. He climbed the concrete steps, legs shaking, Murph's weight pulling at his arms. He fumbled with the keys, the blood on his hands and soaked into his pocket making everything slippery, before managing to pull them out. Finally, Enzo stepped inside to safety, shutting the door with a shoulder. On the other side of the glass, the rain continued unabated. It all looked like something out of a horror movie. Blood ran down the sidewalks and streets.

And all the while, the sun shone bright through the clouds overhead, as if it were just any other day. Like hundreds, if not thousands of people, hadn't just died. The door to the first-floor apartment opened. Mrs. Okita, his downstairs neighbor, stepped into the hallway. She was in her nineties and rarely left her apartment, though she liked to chat whenever he or his sister returned home. Her eyes went wide when she saw him.

"Oh my god, Lorenzo—" She started forward, hand already reaching out.

"Stay back!" She froze, hand rising to cover her mouth. Enzo slumped against the wall, Murph's weight suddenly almost unbearable. The adrenaline was draining out of him, leaving only exhaustion. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"You need to avoid the blood. It's killing people." His voice dropped to a mumble.

"So many people." She nodded slowly, then glanced down at the floor. Blood pooled where he stood, dripping from his clothes.

"I'll get a mop—""No!" His voice came out sharper than he intended.

"It's not worth the risk. Just leave it. I'll clean it later." He swallowed.

"I think I'm immune or something. At least half the people it touched seemed fine, but the rest started dying or seizing."

"Oh, okay, dear," she said with a smile.

"But everything else is good with you? How's little Valentina?" Enzo stared at her. He wanted to yell, shout, and gesture at the thin windows in the old wooden door leading out onto the street. Wanted to demand how she didn't understand that everything was not good, that it was actually quite bad, after he'd just explained that people were dying everywhere. He took a deep breath. Reminded himself that the kindly old lady was in the early stages of dementia. That she spent most of her days watching taped reruns.

And that she had no family looking out for her. Murph shifted in his arms, the frequency of the spasms slowing. Enzo smiled.

"Things are good. Val has classes today." He continued in a rush.

"I need to get upstairs and clean up, Mrs. Okita. You head back inside and enjoy your show."

"Of course, dear. Thank you for stopping to chat with an old lady." The door shut behind her. He turned and climbed the stairs, leaning on the railing as he went. Each step felt heavier, his knee grinding with the familiar ache that stairs always made worse. His breath became labored, lungs burning. Then pain bloomed behind his eyes with the sudden onset of a migraine, sharp enough to make the knee almost irrelevant. He pushed on. Valentina. His one and only sister, pain in the ass that she was.

It hadn't been a lie that she had classes. She should be on campus. Inside, protected by glass and multiple floors of thick concrete. Whether she actually was, he had no idea. He had to hope that was the case. And that she wasn't doing anything crazy. Enzo stumbled across the second-floor landing to his two-bedroom apartment and opened the door. He went straight to the bathroom, shouldered through the door, and laid Murph in the bathtub as gently as his shaking arms would allow. The kick had landed hard.

He needed to check her ribs, her stomach, but the blood worried him more. He had no way of knowing if continued exposure would worsen the symptoms, maybe even resulting in death. And he wasn't willing to find out. Enzo twisted the faucet and grabbed the showerhead from its mount. Water sprayed across Murph's side, turning pink as it swirled down the drain. He worked methodically, rinsing her legs, belly, behind the ears. The white patches of her coat emerged from beneath the crimson, then the black.

His muscles burned with every movement. Breathing felt like dragging air through wet cloth. When the water finally ran clear, he turned off the faucet and reached for the towels, laying them across the bathroom floor. He lifted Murph out and set her down, then knelt beside her and started patting her dry. The seizures were definitely slowing. Her breathing had evened out. Enzo sat back on his heels and looked down at himself. All of his clothes were blood-soaked, even his socks.

He peeled everything off, tossing the clothes into the laundry basket, then stepped under the shower. The water hit his skin, hot and clean, washing away the blood in rivers of pink. He scrubbed at his hair, his face, his arms. Everything. The pain behind his eyes sharpened with each movement, a steady pulse that wouldn't quit, while the pain in his leg eased to a continuous throb. He forced himself to breathe through it. When he finally shut off the water and stepped out, his heart was pounding.

It hammered against his ribs as if it were trying to break through, and a pressure was building behind his eyes that he couldn't explain. Enzo pressed a hand to his chest, wondering if he were about to have a heart attack. If maybe the blood was going to kill him after all. But it was his knee that demanded attention first. The joint throbbed. He knew this pain. Knew exactly what to do about it. He stumbled to the sink and pulled open the medicine cabinet, squeezing his eyes closed in search of relief.

He grabbed the familiar bottle of painkillers, shook out three, tossed them back dry, replaced the bottle, and shut the cabinet door. The reflection in the mirror caught his attention. Enzo froze. There was the same dark hair plastered wet against his forehead. The same full, trimmed beard and mustache, though with an extra few days' growth. And the same dark brown eyes… Except they weren't. His eyes were glowing. Bright purple, shining like something out of a fantasy movie.

"What the—" The pain in his head exploded. Then his chest. His vision went white. His knees buckled. He pitched forward. His forehead cracked against the edge of the sink. Everything went black.

A sharp pain woke him, centered above his right eye. Enzo winced and reached up. His fingers brushed something that flaked away beneath his touch. He opened his eyes. There was a warmth radiating against his side. Murph lay next him, breathing slow and steady, deep asleep. He was on the bathroom floor. Enzo tried to piece together how he'd ended up there, but his memory fractured when he tried to focus on it. He remembered the rain. The blood. Panic in the streets. Getting home. Talking with Mrs. Okita.

Making his way up the stairs and entering the apartment. Then nothing. He carefully climbed to his feet. The mirror showed him a man who did not look as if he'd been through the hell he recalled. A gash cut across his forehead, just above his right eyebrow. The blood had dried in a dark line down his temple. He touched the edge of the sink and found more dried blood. The wet towels lay scattered across the floor. He must have slipped. Hit his head on the way down. Enzo prodded the wound gently.

It stung, but the bleeding had stopped. He hoped he didn't have brain damage. At least, no more than usual. Studying his reflection more carefully, he checked for other injuries. Brown eyes stared back. No bruising along his jaw or cheekbones. He turned his head, checking his neck and the sides of his face. The neat line of his beard looked ridiculous given the circumstances, still perfectly trimmed despite everything. His short black hair was a mess, but that was the least of his problems.

The strange thing was how good he felt. Not just okay. Good. Great, even. His muscles didn't ache the way they had. His breathing came easily. Even the headache from earlier had faded to almost nothing, ignoring the pain where his forehead kissed the sink. He felt years younger, which was absurd considering he was only twenty-five. Even his knee had settled from its usual grind to something almost tolerable. He must have taken painkillers when he got home. Enzo shook his head and bent to scoop up Murph.

She stirred but didn't wake as he carried her into the living room and set her in her bed by the couch. She curled up immediately, nose tucked under her tail. He needed his phone. Needed to check on Valentina. Then he paused. It was midday when the rain started. But the apartment was dark. Enzo crossed to the window and looked out. Night had fallen. Flickering streetlights below cast everything in a red glow. It was still raining. He could hear it drumming against the glass. Thicker than water.

More persistent than the promised light shower at midday. The slick pavement and wet streets ran with blood. The road looked as if it had turned into a shallow river. His eyes tracked upward. Buildings bled. Pouring from their rooftops, streaming down the windows. Further up, he saw the moon hanging in the sky, peeking through the clouds. It was a reddish-purple. He should have felt something at the sight of a literal blood moon, but it just seemed appropriate.

Expected, even, with the horror of everything else going on. Enzo turned from the window. The light filtering through the glass was enough to navigate by. He crossed the living room, skirting the coffee table, and grabbed his phone from where he'd left it. He threw himself onto the couch and unlocked the screen. The brightness made him wince. He pulled up Valentina's contact and hit call. Nothing. No ringing. No connection attempt. Just a 'no signal' message. He frowned and checked the status bar.

Both the cellular and Wi-Fi icons showed that the service was out. Enzo tossed the phone onto the coffee table and reached for the TV remote. The screen flickered to life, washing the room in blue-white light, showing an emergency broadcast. The distinctive tone cut through the static, sharp and grating. Then a voice, breaking up but audible. A recorded press announcement from the White House, the video stuttering and freezing. An exhausted man in a suit sat behind a desk.

"—Secretary of State Jonathan Gray, speaking as Acting President under constitutional succession—" Enzo leaned forward.

"—President—, Vice Pres—, and Speaker of the— were among the casualties of direct—" A high-pitched scream cut through the night outside. Enzo's head snapped toward the window. The sound was raw, inhuman, like an animal in agony. It went on and on, rising in pitch until it broke into wet, choking sobs. Then silence. The broadcast stabilized.

"—extraterrestrial substance has fallen across the entire planet. Current estimates indicate twenty-five to thirty percent fatality rate upon contact. Hundreds of millions—" The audio cut out. The image froze for three seconds, then lurched back to life mid-sentence.

"—phenomenon is ongoing. Do not go outside. Do not touch anyone or anything exposed to the substance. Direct contact is extremely—" Static consumed the screen. Enzo stared, his mind caught on one word. Extraterrestrial. The broadcast returned, image stuttering.

"—communication systems are failing. Emergency services are overwhelmed. If you are indoors and unexposed, remain there. The substance continues to fall. Duration is unknown. We—" The power cut out. He sat there in the darkness, trying to process what he'd learned. The numbers were horrifying. The source of the rain, the implications, terrifying. But it was the strange things he'd seen and experienced that drew his thoughts. The explosion when he shoved the asshole that kicked Murph.

Two men fighting on the street, followed by a flash of light which left one of them on the ground. A memory flashed in his mind. His eyes. In the mirror. Glowing purple. Then a piercing pain erupted inside his skull. With a grunt, he grabbed his head, curling in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut as if that might stop the pain. And surprisingly, it did. The pain vanished almost as quickly as it had begun. Tentatively, he opened his eyes. Light blazed in front of his face.

Enzo threw himself backward into the couch cushions, heart hammering. The light followed. Text hung in the air, glowing pale blue, perfectly legible despite the darkness. It looked like a hologram, but sharper. Clearer. As if someone had projected words directly onto the inside of his eyes. He turned his head. The text moved with him, staying centered in his vision. He froze. Slowly, carefully, he reached out and waved his hand through the space where the words floated.

His fingers passed through without resistance. There was nothing. Just light. Except it wasn't there, in front of him. It was inside his eyes, somehow. Enzo took a breath and forced himself to read. — NOTICE TO INHABITANTS OF SOL-3 (EARTH) Galactic Coordination Authority Incident Report: Unscheduled Shield Breach We regret to inform you that your solar system's protective barrier experienced a temporary integrity failure due to external combat operations.

A hostile entity classified as a Star Eater was successfully neutralized by authorized peacekeeping forces. The elimination was completed in extreme proximity to your system's boundary, resulting in a momentary breach causing inadvertent material contamination. The deceased entity's biological matter has entered your local space, including fragments of flesh and large quantities of extremely condensed mana-infused blood.

Projections indicate your planet and local star will be adversely affected, causing a rapid increase in mana concentration. With that comes an increased likelihood of premature activation of seeded genetic mutations. Per the terms of the protection agreement established with the registered owner of your solar system, direct intervention in planetary affairs is prohibited until local inhabitants achieve minimum development thresholds. This policy remains in effect.

To compensate for the disruption and facilitate safer adaptation, the Universal Training Guide has been activated for all sapient lifeforms within your system. The Guide is a developmental aid designed to assist with mana adaptation and magic development. Operation is intuitive and automatic translation is included. No instruction manual is provided. For inquiries or complaints, please contact your designated local galactic embassy. We apologize for the inconvenience.

Reference Code: AZ-339-881-111-356-772-H APPENDIX: NOTE: The Universal Training Guide is a standard integration tool for pre-contact civilizations. Advanced applications are not included and must be developed independently. WARNING: Activation of the Guide does not guarantee survival. Historical data indicates significant attrition during early integration periods under normal circumstances, which yours are not.

REMINDER: Contact with extraterrestrial entities remains prohibited until your civilization meets established integration milestones. — Enzo stared at the words. The power was out. Hundreds of millions of people were apparently dead. Aliens were real. Magic was possible. Blood rained from the sky because some space monster had bled all over the solar system. And the galaxy's response was a bureaucratic apology memo. Assholes.