Baptism

8:37 PM.

Wes decided to call it an early night. His suspension wasn't going to be a vacation—his mom had made that clear.

She planned to pick up his schoolwork so he wouldn't fall behind, and his stepfather, Simon, had his own ideas.

"You're out for a week," Simon had said over dinner. "First couple of days, you're coming with me to the office. We've got files that need shredding—no point in paying for a service when you can do it."

Wes groaned. It sounded mind-numbingly boring, but he got the message. On the surface, it had to look like punishment. He shouldn't have started a fight, and his parents wanted to make sure he knew that.

Not that he regretted it.

Thinking back, he realized something—he had enjoyed it. More than he should have.

Simon and Wes had actually bonded over mixed martial arts, one of the few things they had in common. It wasn't Chad's thing, but Simon had suggested Wes try MMA instead of wrestling. The idea intrigued him. He had always been a good wrestler, but MMA was something different.

Looking back, it was ironic. His first "fight" had made him feel alive in a way he hadn't expected.

Blood. Struggle. Victory.

If he had known what was coming, he would have laughed at himself for thinking that was what real combat felt like.

Because everything was about to change.

He reached for the lamp on his nightstand—

And the power went out.

Not just his room. Everything.

The TV downstairs cut out mid-broadcast. The hum of the refrigerator stopped. The soft, ever-present glow of chargers, clocks, and appliances vanished.

Wes blinked in the sudden darkness. He turned toward his window, expecting to see the familiar yellow-orange glow of streetlights outside.

Nothing.

The entire block was dark. Not a single porchlight, no house lights in the distance—just faint silhouettes of rooftops against a sky choked by thick clouds. There were no stars. No moon. No passing headlights from distant cars.

It was the kind of darkness that pressed against your eyes, where your brain struggled to adjust, expecting light that never came.

Then—a sound.

A deep, distant rumble.

At first, it was barely noticeable, a vibration in the floorboards.

Then it grew.

The bedframe trembled. The air thickened, like an unseen pressure was settling over everything.

Then—the house shook.

Not like a regular earthquake. It wasn't just a tremor; it was violent, unstable, a force that ripped through the house like an unseen hand was tearing it apart from the inside.

A loud CRACK rang out from downstairs—wood splintering, something massive crashing. Glass shattered somewhere in the distance.

"Wes?!" Chad's voice, shaky, nearby.

Before Wes could answer, Simon's voice boomed from the hallway. "Stay where you are! I'm coming!"

The floor tilted.

Not forward—not backward—sideways. Like the house itself was being pulled, twisted.

Something heavy fell—his nightstand? His bookshelf? The impact sent tremors through the floor, shaking his bed.

Wes reached blindly, fumbling toward his drawer, hands shaking as he yanked it open and grabbed his flashlight. He flicked the switch.

Nothing.

No light. No power. No explanation.

His breath came fast and uneven. He couldn't see.

The house groaned, a sound deep in the walls, like the structure was straining against itself.

A sudden snap—then the sickening sound of drywall ripping apart.

Wes didn't wait. He moved, stumbling over debris, hands outstretched to feel his way through the room. His shin slammed into something hard—his desk? His bed? He had no idea.

The doorway—where was the doorway?

The air smelled off—dusty, electric, almost metallic. His lungs felt heavy, thick, like something was pressing down on him.

"Wes?!" Chad's voice, closer now.

Wes reached out blindly. His hand hit something solid—an arm. Chad.

"Come on," Wes said, voice shaky, barely able to hear himself over the thunderous groaning of the house. "We need to—"

The ground lurched again.

This time, the house wasn't just shaking—it was shifting.

Simon's hand grabbed his wrist.

"Move! Get to the hallway!" Simon's voice was the only thing grounding him in the chaos.

Wes followed the pull, dragging Chad with him. His feet slipped, the ground beneath them felt wrong—was the carpet peeling up?! The floor felt uneven, like it wasn't just breaking—it was reshaping itself.

They stumbled into the hallway, barely able to stand.

Their mother was already there, clutching their baby sister to her chest, eyes wide, face pale even in the flickering shadows from distant fires outside.

"We have to get out!" she cried.

Wes didn't hesitate. He grabbed Chad's arm and moved.

The stairs—where were the stairs?!

Everything was wrong. The house was no longer the house. The walls felt too far apart, the floor tilted at an impossible angle. The air itself felt heavier, thicker, like something unseen was pressing down on them.

Simon pushed forward, leading the way. The front door—where was the front door?

Then, somehow, they were outside.

The moment his feet hit the street, Wes sucked in a sharp breath—and froze.

The sky was wrong.

Clouds churned in massive, twisting spirals, shifting like they were being pulled apart. The stars were gone. The air hummed, the ground beneath them expanding, stretching in ways his mind couldn't comprehend.

He didn't know it yet, but mana had arrived.

Then, it came—

The Mana Baptism.

This would only ever happen once to a newly awakened planet. Every cultivator in the universe would have killed for the chance to experience it.

A wave of pure, visible mana surged forward—a sea of blue light crashing toward them like a tsunami.

And it was heading straight for his family.

Wes and Chad had been thrown the farthest away. Out of reach.

Simon had no time to think. He moved instinctively, shielding their mother and baby sister with his body as the wave hit.

Wes couldn't breathe.

It was like being stabbed by a thousand needles at once. Then double that.

Mana ripped through him at a cellular level.

His father had shielded their mother and sister, absorbing part of the impact. But Wes and Chad took the full force of it.

He had no words to describe it.

No thoughts.

Just pain.

And then—blackness.