Stanis sat on the side of the pale, decrepit bridge, swinging his legs over the ledge. His body was fully covered without any weak points, the matte set of armour a harsh sight against his background. Several grey-scaled fish the size of minnows swum in the flowing stream below his feet, seemingly ignorant of him and everything else, including the coming apocalypse. They had already survived one without knowing it, but whether they'd get such blessed luck twice in a row was something only the Gods above would know.

The wind was quiet and soothing, almost like the calm before a storm. But as Stanis sat there, the wind picked up, blowing forcefully against the trees around him, causing a cacophony of rustling. In the forest beside him stood an intimidating force that stretched past the furthest horizon, each spot of space filled by a towering Jaguar.

Past him and the Jaguars was the village. It sat there without a peep, almost as if attempting to wipe itself off the map. There were no billows of smoke rising to the sky, no calls or cries coming from the marketplace. Instead, it was quiet, eerily quiet.

But the quiet was not meant to be, the wind heralding the changes. It began to roar and huff with its heart, threatening to topple over the shabbily built huts down in the village. Next was the booming crackles of thunder that dwarfed the wind, the clouds frantically parting under the volume. But before the lightning bolts could strike the Earth, before the wind could even have a chance to regain its throne, the system notification came.

A2 Planet #984 has been upgraded to an A1 Planet. All changes will be implemented and barriers changed by the end of the week. All inhabitants of the planet should resume life as normal.

It had been a full week since he had come back to Earth, and they had already been deemed unworthy to own such a precious planet. Stanis felt a rising bitterness in his throat. Looking across the river and his own disfigured reflection, he aimed and spat. The ripples from the headshot broke his reflection into blurry colours.

When he had first come down, he had wanted to do his most to ensure the survival of the village and those he cared about. But the reality turned out to be a lot harder to swallow than his fantasy had been. It had turned out that he actually cared about no one, and that he couldn't be asked to put in any effort after the first 2 days after which the novelty had run out. After receiving his armour-set, he had spent his time… unwisely.

Not that he regretted it, though.

The Hu request has been accepted. All Hu ‘villages' will now be transported.

Stanis remained sitting on the ledge. The village still sprawled out in front of him, soldiers still crowded across the walls. His surroundings hadn't changed. At least for the most part that was; across the horizon, high in the sky, he could see a wide, coal-black plume of smoke that hadn't been there seconds before.

He shifted from his uncomfortable seat and threw himself backwards, falling onto the wooden bridge. It was just like last time, or at least what he had heard it being like. He heard a similar thing had happened in the past from people who weren't from the original Yona village. They had, all of a sudden, been transported here, only the Yona village keeping position.

Picking himself up, Stanis finally saw the lightning. The bolts struck Earth relentlessly, vigorously pelting the planet as if it hid treasure deep inside. And then they stopped, but in their place, the sky opened up…

It was like a whirlpool had been fished out of the water and flicked into the air. The previously fluffy, albeit darkly-coloured, clouds rapidly slimmed and began to swim around the vortex, continuously speeding up. Out of the vortex grew an invisible cylinder that grew down to Earth, eventually hitting the sod and stopping. And in this clean piece of sky, in this colourless cylinder surrounded by raging clouds, were formless figures sinking down.

They floated like leaves tumbling through the air, their figures soon taking shape. A slim, grim line formed across Stanis's lips as he saw the aliens. His breathing didn't change, nor did he grow anxious, but instead the grip over his handle grew. Eventually, he could no longer help it and the line split and sprout into an awful grin.

Serb watched Stanis's reaction with both worry and confusion. Was it fear? Or maybe excitement? Or was it both? Niss stood by his side and rubbed her head across his shoulders, causing him to relax and rub his fur against hers in response. Whatever Stanis's issue, Serb was almost certain that it wouldn't affect his battle ability. Almost.

The figures in the distance began to make their descent onto Earth, the first of them landing on the mountain north of the village. Looking up, Stanis could see that the see-through cylinder was getting wider, and more importantly, that the aliens were coming down at a faster rate.

He turned to look at the Jaguars who filled the forest. He stepped up onto the bridge-ledge in order to get a better view, to which in turn hundreds of black and bronze eyes turned to him. Most of them wouldn't survive this: he knew that, Serb knew that, they knew that.

"Let's win," he said.

Serb moved forwards and positioned himself similarly on the ledge opposite Stanis's.

"We all know it; we won't all survive this. Perhaps none of us will survive this. But let's get it clear now. Nobody, absolutely nobody, will claim that we left without a fight, that we died without living, or that we fell without standing,"

In response to Serb's speech, his countless subjects roared their lungs out to him. Stanis took the scene in with wide, curved eyes before turning around. In the distance, he could see that the noise had attracted the aliens' attention.

Serb turned to him and nodded. "Let's go!" shouted the bronze Jaguar, sprinting across the rolling fields in the next second. Behind him rode his cavalry of beasts, each and every one of them as prepared to kill as they were to die. Stanis followed on after that. If he tried, he could easily sprint past the Jaguars but at the same time, their charge was not meant to be a race, after all, there were more than enough aliens for each and every one of them.

The Jaguars tore up the ground as they moved, their thick legs catapulting mud behind them, leaving piles of upturned land in their wake. As he ran, Stanis turned his head and looked towards the village. He could see a more-reluctant charge from the villagers, unwilling to waste the Jaguars' momentum but similarly unwilling to act as the meatshields.

Eventually, Stanis smiled and sped up. He wasn't like the villagers, he was different. He wasn't like the Jaguars, he was different. In fact, the only person he could think of was the one who had briefly taken control of his life. It sickened him but it was true, he had been born a predator, he was meant to prey.

He ran past Jaguar after Jaguar, his feet moving quicker and more forceful after each step. He flew past Serb and Niss, their squinted eyes reflected in his drawn sword as he passed them.

Out of him came a low rumble, a low roar that got louder as he got closer. He could see the aliens clearly now, and his suspicions were confirmed. His rumble got louder, and the insanity grew in his eyes.

Running directly towards him was a 2.5m Alien. It had a single, violet line across its head for sight, and two flicks of flesh on the side of its head for sound. It had a humanoid figure with a colossal back that weighed down on its whole body, its shoulders hunched over its chest. Its legs were as thick as tree trunks, its body naked and bare for all to see. Its skin was thick and dark, a strange incandescent orange layer shining through the dark one. But the body part that resonated most with Stanis was its arms: long and thick with fierce, red claws coming from each finger.

Stanis felt the wind at his feet and leapt, his blade shining dark colours onto the world. The alien reacted violently and punched out with its arm, confident in its defence. It was a mistake he had made thousands of times in the past. But now he was different.

He whipped his head down and linked the ground to his feet. His flight was instantly cut short and he blasted into the ground. But before he smashed into the solid rock, he broke the link and stepped forward the final distance. His sword swung down naturally and caught the alien by its neck, shooting its head off at a macabre speed.

He was Stanis. He was a man born to be King. He was, the Origin…