Nevada, the United States of America.

  In this particular region of the state lay a rather famous location—Area 51. Once a topic of many rumors, mainly extraterrestrial tales about unidentified flying objects, this location had become a famous tourist attraction some time during the years. The government, in an attempt to disprove the rumors from the populace, decided to do the opposite—by actively marketing it, they would shatter the hope that paranormal activities existed, since if there wasn’t anything to hide, they would be guilt-free.

  In the end, the strategy proved to have worked. At first, tourists flocked to the newly-formed base in hope of discovering their new friends from outer space, but as time went on, more and more people caught onto the act and realized it was nothing but an elaborate hoax from the state officials. Thus, Area 51 slowly but surely fell to obscurity, and the result was the state it resided in now—2065 A.D, where even the most basic buildings were already demolished, leaving the state as a barren desert that one was all too familiar with.

  At least, that was what the government wanted people to think.

  In reality, it was a cleverly-hidden double trap. By deliberately showing that nothing was there, it created the image of a hoax by government officials, and thus, as fewer people were attracted by the rumors of Area 51, it became less of a problem to keep hidden. However, the subject of research was really not aliens as people would have expected.

  Instead, it was something far more impractical. Fantastical, even.

  Buried deep within the dunes of Area 51 was a trap door large enough to fit a tank inside, leading to an armored bunker underground and away from privy eyes of the populace—sometimes, even certain factions of the government. What was the target of their research, one might wonder.

  The bunker was three stories tall, two hundred meters wide, with 50-centimeter thick, 5-layered iron walls and floors, combined with tempered glass of equal thickness acting as panes for their experiments. In other words, an impenetrable fortress made to survive any explosion. And yet, for everyone inside, that still wasn’t enough to satisfy their anxiety.

  Underneath each lab coat, the average scientist sported multiple bullet-proof vests, while their faces were guarded with 10-centimeter thick goggles made from the same kind of tempered glass as the panes.

  Their experiment? A single cross.

  In a room that was easily half the size of an entire bunker, lay dead in the center of it all, was a single cross. Supported by iron frames and electromagnetic fields that kept it in a suspended state, the cross shone a deep azure blue, giving a soothing light of the night sky. Yet, at the same time, it was as if the cross was also sucking in any light that it came into contact with, leaving a strange hollow circle surrounding it in the process.

  From somewhere within the bunker, a voice spoke into the radio:

  “Preparing for energy release in 3… 2… 1…”

  “Fire!”

  As the voice sounded, the entire bunker was engulfed in a mesmerizing black and blue light. Only a moment later, everything seemingly returned to normal. None of the structures were damaged in any way… but one couldn’t say the same for the people in the area.

  No one present knew what had transpired. For them, that light was the last thing that they’d seen. Ever.

  An entire fleet’s worth of researchers, with numbers ranging to the hundreds, died on the spot. There were no external wounds—everyone was found collapsed on the spot, all of their vitals stopped completely.

  All, save for one person.

  He wasn’t like the others in the bunker, in every way possible. While everyone else was armed to the teeth, prepared for any situation possible, this lone man only wore a single dark blue suit and red tie. While everyone else had a lab coat and various devices to note their research, this man was present in the bunker unarmed. And the most important thing of all: while everyone else had perished due to an unknown cause, the man stood there, well as ever.

  Or perhaps, he wasn’t entirely unscathed. His blonde hair seemed to have grown a few strands greyer than when he entered the bunker, while his face showed more wrinkles than before. The signs of crow’s feet were ever more clearly spotted around his eyes, while sweat drenched his forehead in shock.

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  Never before in his life did he expect such results. Yet, it wasn’t the lives of the researchers that he was mourning for.

  With shaky steps, the man entered the room of the cross and wore the piece of jewelry around his neck, his hands still shivering from the incident. As soon as the cross was stationed, however, he stood there blank like a mindless doll, as if his soul had already left his body.

  In fact, his soul had left his body. For in the man’s eyes, where he stood was no longer the steel cage that once was his safety hideout.

  Floating around in a space of endless cosmos, the man stumbled for words:

  “Is… Is this the future you wanted to show me?”

  From within the pile of nothingness, another voice answered—haughty, arrogant, but never lacking in childlike wonder:

  “Indeed it is, my King. Now, tell me—are you not entertained?”

  “Entertained? What kind of twisted joke is this?” As if shocked to reality by the sheer inhuman nature of the answer, the man screamed. “Are you telling me that… that you… things are going to destroy humanity?”

  The voice only laughed. “Whatever are you talking about, my dear King? We’re not destroyers, we’re protectors. You and your nation alike, both need our power… my power to escape the highwire that you’re currently on.”

  “But.. you’re a…”

  “Oh? Are you once again stuck in that old definition, my King?”

  “That’s no mere definition! I’ve seen it! I’ve experienced it! You can’t convince me otherwise, Demon!”

  “Tch, tch, tch. God, Demons… those are just labels that humanity put on us these few millennia. In reality, my King, we’re keepers of unlimited power, and who we choose to bless will be the ones to shape the world around them.”

  “So… you’re telling me that somehow… I’m one of these puppets you chose?”

  “Puppets? Surely you jest,” the voice chuckled. “Think more highly of yourself, my King. You’re Donald Peterson, the 57th President of the United States of America! One of the most powerful and influential men in the world, mind you!”

  “What good does false power do against this kind of destruction?”

  “False? Aren’t you forgetting something, my King?”

  Donald Peterson knew what the voice was referring to. It was the entire reason why the two of them were able to communicate up until this point, and how he was the only one alive in this mess of a situation in the first place.

  “Well?” The voice pressured once again. “Aren’t you going to answer, wielder of Allocer, the Demon of Wisdom and Astrology?”

  “I… have no other way out of this, don’t I?”

  “Not just you, but the entire world,” the voice, now Allocer, answered. “If we don’t put a stop to the other cross bearers in the world, God will undoubtedly awaken once again, and this time, that old fart will release Calamity. The choice is yours, Mr. President. Wear the mantle of the hero, or perish along with Earth. And I don’t think you want the second choice anyway.”

  Without letting him answer, Allocer vanished along with the cosmos hiding it, leaving Peterson stranded in the lifeless bunker once more.

  One… Just one of them is already terrifying enough! And now you’re telling me there are seven lying around the world?

  In truth, Allocer was just one of the Demons that had awakened, and had chosen Peterson as its wearer. It wasn’t the only Demon with an agenda either—the others had already extended their grasp around the major political powers in the world.

  In Europe, a nest of Demons formed with a network that extended to all other countries.

  In Asia, the clutches of a vixen engulfed the land in the center.

  In the deserts of Africa, an ancient civilization was revived.

  And in the frozen wastelands of what was formerly Russia, the flickering flames of a life burned bright.

  Seven crosses. Seven wielders.

  This was no longer a war between Gods and Demons.

  This was a war to save themselves. The first ever Holy World War had commenced.

  Unbeknownst to all of them, however, they were not the heroes of this world. For in the end, it was humanity’s greed that pushed them to this state. They—the seven chosen ones—were the pinnacle of humanity, and thus, bore all the sins that humanity held.

  In order to save the world, there was a need for someone inhuman, but not God as well.

  A vessel to hold all the world’s evil. A broken doll.

  This was a story to find that doll. A story to save that doll from its sacrificial altar.

  Even if it would result in Calamity itself.