Release the Rampage

Chapter 1: THE MAN IN CHAIN'S

In 2167, Earth finally achieved peace. Climate rings kept storms small, pollution vanished, and cities shined like new steel. People lived calmly—educated, relaxed, confident. Fighting and crime were things of the past.

Still, every city carried one reminder of danger: a silent screen showing a man bound in countless chains, sitting alone in darkness. The world neither feared nor worshipped him. They simply accepted that he existed. A myth given form. A warning humanity learned not to question.

But even a peaceful world has its problems.

Once every month, the sky split open. Portals tore into reality, linking Earth to twisted alternate versions of itself. Some portals released weak criminals. Others unleashed abominations—oni, demons, failed experiments, beings not meant to exist.

People didn't fear each other anymore.
They feared what stepped through.

To protect them, humanity created HQ, five teams of heroes across the world. Each hero gained power through one of three paths: cybernetic enhancement, devil contracts, or mysterious gifts from something called S-37, each with painful drawbacks. HQ-3 was the strongest. HQ-4 was the weakest.

One calm evening, another portal appeared. At first, only small demons came through, and HQ-3 handled them effortlessly. But then a massive demon emerged—towering, unstoppable. HQ-3 didn't stand a chance. Neither did HQ-1, HQ-2, or HQ-5. Every major HQ fell one after another.

Only HQ-4 remained.

Kain, a robotic hero, watched the disaster unfold through shaking screens. "Great," he muttered. "We're dead."

He tried calling his team. Everyone was offline except Marro. When Marro finally answered from his private ship, he barely looked interested.

"Kain," he said. "What?"

"GET DOWN HERE! The world is ending!"

Marro took a slow sip of his drink. "I'll be there in three hours."

"THREE HOURS?! WE'LL ALL BE DEAD!"

"Then don't die," Marro replied, and hung up.

Kain stared at the blank screen. "...I'm cooked."

Deep beneath the earth, in a pitch-black chamber, a single man sat chained from head to toe. The one who ended World War II with terrifying methods. The one humanity pretended to forget.

Asrial.

The Chained Man.

He hadn't moved in years. But as the cameras showed the world collapsing, he lifted his head. Slowly. Calmly. A grin stretched across his face—too wide, too sharp—until blood rolled down his lips.

He watched the chaos with a trembling excitement.

"Finally," he whispered.

The chains rattled.

And for the first time in decades, he smiled.