Beneath the blackened wilds, a desolate and secret road winds its way. Sand and dead grass mingle, rising and falling as the path twists along the border. The night is pitch-black, starless above. In this near-total darkness, where nothing can be seen, a car painted jet-black speeds forward.
It’s a large box truck, with a cargo hold nearly the size of a shipping container. Clearly, the vehicle has been heavily modified: the engine’s roar is muffled to near silence by special soundproofing, the heat from fuel combustion inside the cylinders is crushed by powerful refrigeration, and on infrared, it blends right into the ground. And in this pitch-black night, the driver hasn’t even bothered to turn on the headlights. The turbaned, flaxen-bearded driver stares coldly ahead, his specially enhanced eyes cutting through the darkness.
No color, no sound, no heat, no light. The rolling hills make radar nearly useless below ten meters. This is a ghost truck—almost invisible to every ordinary detection device.
A truck like this, at any time, in any place, means something big is going down. Honestly, whatever world-shaking contraption might be hidden in that massive cargo hold, nobody would be surprised.
But this particular truck? It’s way beyond normal. Because its huge, jet-black cargo hold has only one special feature—refrigeration.
Yep, you read that right. This super-stealth, war-room-grade ghost truck, after all the fuss and secrecy, is basically no different from a seafood delivery van hauling frozen dumplings. Its one and only job? Keeping things cold!
The bearded driver glanced at the panel next to the steering wheel. The truck’s cooling system was running full blast. With this custom refrigeration, the cargo hold should be at minus one hundred and twenty degrees Celsius. But the temperature gauge? Zero degrees. It flickered, rose and fell, but mostly stayed right around zero.
Inside the truck, half the space was lit, the other half swallowed by miraculous darkness.
In the bright half, a skinny young man stood frozen stiff. He looked up at the ceiling, swallowed nervously. Ssssss—like meat sizzling in a pan, strange noises echoed as steam billowed, and water droplets condensed on the ceiling, forming icicle swords that grew fast and pointed straight down.
Then, as the icicles heated up, they started to melt even as they formed, dripping drop by drop. The truck shook and rattled, and the icicles looked ready to snap and plunge down at any second. As a Chosen One, the young man wasn’t afraid of ordinary icicles. But these? These were laced with a terrifying power. It hadn’t shown itself yet, but he knew—if it went wild, even a single drop of water could corrode him to dust.
The young man lowered his head, glancing toward the dark side of the truck. The fear in his eyes deepened.
He couldn’t see it, but he knew there was a massive pool over there. It should have been frozen solid at minus one hundred and twenty degrees, but now, with that sizzling sound, thick clouds of steam drifted out, carrying that wild power and spreading everywhere.
It was like some prehistoric beast was sharpening its fangs, ready to tear everything apart.
Drip—a drop of water landed on the young man’s forehead, making him jump like a startled rabbit. He really didn’t want to be here, but he had no choice. It was his job.
So the young man bowed deeply and whispered, "Almighty Divine, we’re almost there."
Hiss—a long inhalation echoed as the white mist collapsed toward one side. With a splash, something in the darkness rose straight up out of the pool.
Thud!
In the darkness, a pair of eyes opened.
There had been no sound, just silence. Opening one's eyes shouldn’t make a fuss. But when those terrifying eyes opened, the young man felt his mind explode, his head spin, and a thunderous boom echoed in his consciousness.
He couldn’t quite describe the light in those eyes. He only knew that their owner could probably kill him with a single glare.
Terrifying! Absolutely terrifying!
No, this person was always scary, but ever since he suddenly returned to base a few days ago, he’s gotten even scarier. It’s not just his power that’s grown—something fundamental and deep inside him has changed.
So the young man quickly bowed his head again, showing his respect.
The owner of those eyes seemed to get a bit chatty, his voice deep and echoing with hollowness: "Tell me, what mistake have I made?"
Sweat poured down the young man’s forehead. Suddenly, his knees buckled and he prostrated himself, trembling as he answered, "You—you’re the flawless Divine! How could you ever make a mistake?"
"No mistakes? No, I was flawless, but it’s you, you smooth-talking flatterers, you constant praise, that caused my mistakes!" The voice grew wild, making the young man break out in a cold sweat. "The 'God-Splitting Substitution Technique' saved my life, but it forever shattered my foundation for divinity, and I lost vital power!"
Boom—thunder seemed to rumble as the figure in the darkness suddenly stepped forward. Splash, splash, he walked through the water, slow and steady, heading this way. All the while, he spoke at a measured pace.
"Still, this whole experience has been a great opportunity. Building a foundation of power is easy; building a foundation of spirit is hard. After these days of reflection, I’ve re-examined myself and finally found two mistakes."
"First, arrogance."
"I shouldn’t have floated on flattery, gotten so full of myself, and confused goals with reality. Gods are supposed to be omnipotent, but I’m not—so I shouldn’t have been arrogant enough to ignore my opponents, skip preparations, pit my weaknesses against their strengths, or—give up my greatest advantage."
So what’s my greatest advantage? No question—I am the master of the storm. My power rides with the storm itself.
As soon as he finished speaking, a crackling, popping sound rang out, and the whole truck visibly shook. The young man stared around in terror, as if some ancient beast outside the cargo hold was roaring.
At the end of the road, inside a hidden military base, a familiar figure frowned as she watched the sky suddenly turn wild and menacing.
"Commander, Sandstorm Sixteen is here!" A soldier burst into the command room, shouting at the pensive commander: "This time the sandstorm is a level two—doesn’t look strong enough to halt work. The weather station caught it early, so engineering is fully prepared. We won’t miss a beat."
But the commander stared at the oncoming, earth-darkening storm. Behind that seemingly normal weather, her battle-honed instincts screamed. She shook her head. "No—sound the alarm!"
With a voice like steel, the commander turned—none other than Fran, long unseen. After days of trial and the great tide of change, the former special forces queen was now fiercer, braver, steadier, and more commanding than ever.
Her hair was longer, she looked even better, and her demonic aura hadn’t faded—in fact, her reputation had only grown.
Even a gut feeling, totally unproven, was enough for Fran to act without hesitation: "Red alert—highest level! Everyone, including the Chosen Ones Special Ops, must be in position within three minutes. Prepare for contact!"
"Yes, ma’am!" No hesitation, no questions—the soldier snapped a salute and dashed off. The harsh alarm blared, and the sleeping base sprang to life, guns loaded. This base was part of a national master plan—a game-changer for the new era. Even at the cost of their lives, they couldn’t let it fall.
Ten kilometers away, the raging sandstorm barreled forward, sweeping and roaring, wild and unstoppable. In its midst, the black truck flickered in and out of sight. Inside, the shadowy figure kept moving, emerging from the darkness as a blurry outline, and spoke a second truth.
"Second, overcaution."
Treating my enemies with too much arrogance, and myself with too much caution. I’ve had the seeds of extraordinary power, immense and limitless, but I held myself back with so-called 'prudence'—really just cowardice. 'Worried new power would ruin my foundation,' 'afraid of backlash,' 'scared a shaky base would limit my potential'—all crap, just crap. At the root, it was a lack of confidence. My will wasn’t big enough to control everything.
I never understood why the Nature Cult Leader, the Astral Wanderer, or that woman always seemed to look down on me. Now I get it. My own insight was just too shallow.
If something breaks, it means you’re weak. If there’s backlash, you’re weak. If you get hurt, you’re weak. Weakness is the original sin. If it can be broken, let it break. If it can turn on you, let it. If it can be damaged, so be it. Survival of the fittest—destroy the old and weak, create the new and strong. Let a world-devouring will swallow everything.
Creak—the truck stopped. Wild winds howled, sand and lightning swirling and blocking everything ahead. Next to the bearded driver, an American sat in the passenger seat, eyes wide as he tried to make out the military base ahead.
Then the American spoke arrogantly: "We’re here. Let him do his thing—destroy everything. Show the boss what you’re worth!"
In his mind, these bumpkins were only good for hard labor. As a Zade—even if he wasn’t from the main branch—he still looked down on most of the world.
But the bearded driver ignored him, just shot him a sly, mocking look before hopping out and disappearing into the storm. The American stared, baffled, as the driver ran off like he was avoiding something.
Suddenly, the American’s hair stood on end. Even an ordinary person could sense the weird, explosive presence swelling from the cargo hold behind him. He didn’t know what it was, but suddenly the driver’s look made perfect sense.
"No—"
BOOM!!
With a colossal roar, the cargo hold exploded into flying shards. The howling wind cheered, lightning slashed and celebrated, all going wild at that moment.
No more hesitation, no more chains, no more fear! I will become a god—a god who forges everything, who sees through all illusions! From today, I swear—I will never hold back again. Roar, storm!!!
Thunder rumbled as a flood of storm energy was sucked in, like a black hole swallowing everything. Amid the crackling, he stretched into a ten-meter-tall giant—and kept growing. Agonizing pain wracked his nerves, but he didn’t stop. He threw back his head and roared, pushing himself to the limit.
Fifteen meters!
Red light swirled, blood flowed like rivers!
BOOM—the earth split open, a giant crater appeared as the fifteen-meter giant soared up, then crashed down like a meteor into the heart of the base.
"Destroy!"
He roared, and the sound waves smashed every soldier in the circle into pulp.
"What the hell is that..." Fran froze for half a second, then steeled herself and ordered, "Open fire!!"
The storm has begun.
Tonight, the Israeli border will not be quiet.