PENTAGON – WASHINGTON D.C., USA
The sky above D.C. had been clear moments ago. Now, it was darkened by a quiet, unnatural cloud formation. In the courtyard of the Pentagon, a shockwave of pressure gently rippled outward—unfelt by the untrained, but bone-deep for those sensitive to energy.
Inside the command center, alarms blinked—but there was no siren. Only stillness.
Then came the voice over the intercom.
The President, Joint Chiefs, and top security officials turned as the doors opened... and Dave Garcia walked in.
No guards stopped him. None could.
He wore a black coat etched in golden fractal veins of Shellfire magic, the Ten Rings floating faintly around his wrist like silent moons orbiting a black sun.
"You wanted one of these?" he said, holding up a ring—Remaker, glowing with unearthly heat. "Let me tell you what it costs."
A few generals shifted in their seats. One tried to speak—Dave simply raised a hand, and the air around him warped slightly. The man’s throat clenched involuntarily. He froze.
Dave continued, voice steady.
"These aren’t medals. They’re burdens. They aren’t to be given to flag-waving politicians or glory-chasing armies. They’re not for you to turn into nuclear deterrents."
He turned to the President.
"If you try to take them... if you push Project Unity again, I won’t come back in peace. I’ll come back as judgment."
The room fell utterly silent.
"You have genius. Wealth. Power. Use it to support humanity—not control it."
Then, he vanished in a blink of golden light.
High above the Chinese government headquarters, a golden shimmer cracked the air open—and Dave stepped out midair.
Anti-air drones scrambled.
He raised a finger. They powered down instantly, mid-flight, frozen in time.
On the rooftop, military advisors and Party leaders waited, braced.
Dave landed lightly on the rooftop with folded arms, addressing them in fluent Mandarin.
"You demand a ring, claiming your nation is strong enough. But strength without restraint is conquest."
"I respect your nation’s legacy. Your civilization spans centuries. That wisdom is your strength—not your armies."
One general scoffed. "You think we fear a single man?"
Dave stepped forward, eyes glowing.
"No. You fear what you can’t control. And the Ten Rings are beyond your control."
The concrete beneath him cracked slightly from the energy pressure.
"You will not dictate who gets them. That decision belongs to the trials ahead. To merit—not to maps."
And like that, he was gone again.
Back at Unity Tower, Dave returned to the core chamber. Aizen was waiting, arms folded behind his back. Shuri and Tony stood nearby, monitoring global feeds.
"They got the message?" Aizen asked with a faint smirk.
Dave exhaled slowly. "They got enough of it."
Shuri glanced at the global dashboards. "Their media teams are scrambling. Half the governments are now claiming they never wanted the rings. The other half are blaming each other."
Bruce added from the back, "In short... chaos."
Dave looked to the Ten Rings now arranged in their suspension field.
"Good. Because the world needs to understand something."
He raised his hand—and the rings hovered around him again.
"The Ten Lords of Earth will not be chosen by borders... but by worth."
"Still, we need to have a public conference—one that includes many world leaders," Tony said, glancing at the others. "At that summit, we’ll explain the fair and justified distribution of the Ten Lord Rings."
Aizen gave a slow nod.
"It’s easy to be seen as tyrants. But if the whole world supports the new order, then we don’t need to impose it through force."
Dave sighed, turning away as he muttered,
"Fine. Go ahead. Just don’t expect me to be there. I don’t care for politics or posing for cameras."
With that, he walked out, leaving the rest in silence for a moment.
Tony exchanged a look with the others and shrugged.
"He really doesn’t like being restrained, huh?"
Aizen’s faint smile lingered as he replied,
"No. But that’s exactly why the world listens when he moves."
GLOBAL LEADER SUMMIT – VIRTUAL BROADCAST ROOM
The holographic feed lit up.
Across the globe—inside the Kremlin, the White House Situation Room, Zhongnanhai, the Élysée Palace, 10 Downing Street, Rashtrapati Bhavan, and dozens more—world leaders sat in stunned silence as a single man stood at the center of the projection:
Dressed in pristine white robes, eyes gleaming with quiet supremacy, he stood before the Unity insignia, his hands folded behind his back like a philosopher-emperor.
The feed was hijacked—no government could shut it off. The signal came from Unity Tower, but was protected by multi-layered shielding from both Wakandan tech and arcane magic woven by Kamar-Taj.
Behind Aizen, the Ten Rings floated slowly in perfect formation.
He began to speak—not loud, but in a voice that cut through mountains.
"The world stands at the brink of something new. The Ten Makluan Rings—gifts of unimaginable power—have returned to the Earth."
He paused, letting the weight of the words settle.
"We have heard your demands. We have received your ultimatums. We have intercepted your lies. You believe that borders define power. That flags bestow worth."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
A ripple of spiritual energy passed through the hologram feed—many leaders instinctively flinched as if a chill had passed through their souls.
"The Ten Rings will not be given to governments. They will not be inherited through politics, nor bribed through wealth. You cannot trade for them, steal them, or legislate their fate."
The camera panned back, showing the full, floating image of the rings—each glowing with a distinct aura.
"Their wielders will be chosen through trial. Through merit. Through proof of body, mind, spirit, and will."
A new holographic image formed: a global symbol—a stylized ring wrapped around a planet, crowned with flame. Below it, the words:
"The Ascension Trials – For the Ten Lords of Earth"
"Any individual—regardless of age, nation, race, wealth, or origin—may participate. But only ten will rise. And none of you, none, may interfere."
His gaze sharpened, as if staring through the soul of every leader watching.
"Attempt to manipulate the trials... and you will face me."
For a brief moment, his illusion faded.
The real Aizen stepped forward—Hōgyoku awakened, eyes glowing violet, spiritual pressure turning the air behind him to shimmering distortion.
"I assure you... none of you are prepared for that."
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