The Culling games
Twenty thousand years ago, long before the Great Reset erased history from memory, there existed civilizations beyond modern comprehension.
Civilizations of impossible marvels and incredible heights that touched the heavens. Cities carved from living stone. Spires that sang with energy beyond human understanding. Inventions that defied nature, time, and even human biology. Humanity, at its greatest, was not simply advanced; it was transcendent.
But for every wonder, there was an equal horror.
The success of these ancient worlds was not built on knowledge alone, but on cost.
Not animal sacrifices.
Not criminal sacrifices.
But human sacrifices.
Humans born with an awakening potential.
These people had an incredible ability: to see and harness the energy that coursed through all life: Anima.
Anima, or aura, was the basic energy that ran through all living beings. Most humans carried it in small, inconsequential amounts. However, a select few were born with an ability to increase it, purify it, and harness it. Through Anima, human biology could be enhanced beyond human limits. Injuries healed instantly, senses were amplified, and abilities were granted that approached godhood.
The strength of one’s Anima dictated the strength of one’s abilities.
To the ancient civilizations, these people were not a blessing.
They were fuel.
Each century, an artifact recognized only as the Orb of Selection appeared. Silent. Alive. Authoritative. From every corner of the globe, it selected one hundred individuals—men and women who possessed extraordinary Anima potential. No bloodline, riches, or power could sway its decision. After selection, all hope was futile.
These one hundred were thrown into a game of ritual masquerading as fate.
A tournament.
A massacre.
A ritual called The Culling Games.
The game was simple: live.
In closed-off areas designed to foster violence and despair, the selected were pitted against each other in a battle royale. Bonds broke. Ethics faltered. Blood fueled the machinery of the unseen realm. One by one, the contestants dropped, each death unleashing a deluge of Anima that sustained the unseen forces.
At the close of the carnage, one alone stood.
This one was chosen as humanity’s champion, the one who would span the divide between the Seen and the Unseen, the world of mortals and the realm beyond comprehension. They were celebrated as a savior, a god-walker, a sacrificial lamb anointed in glory.
Or so the civilizations believed.