The sky split open like paper catching fire.
A silent meadow, bathed in moonlight, erupted into a warzone of color as a crackling blue vortex tore through the night above the trees. There was no thunder. No roar. Just time itself screaming.
Then, from the heavens, a silver pod fell — sleek, glowing, and humming with impossible energy — like a comet hurled by angry gods. It slammed into the earth with a thunderous boom, shaking birds from trees and knocking a cow unconscious.
A few fields away, a farmer dropped his haystack and shouted, "Witchcraft!"
Steam hissed from the pod's vents. Lights blinked in rhythmic pulses. The metal shell, now lodged in the soil, pulsed like a heartbeat.
And then, with a slow metallic gasp, the door opened.
A man stepped out. Not in armor. Not in robes. But in something strange — a black, slim suit that shimmered under the moonlight like liquid. His boots bore no mud, his sleeves glowed faintly with light, and his posture radiated effortless confidence. His hair looked sculpted by gods with barbershop licenses.
He looked like sin and salvation, wrapped in sarcasm.
Zayden Core had arrived.
"Definitely not Kansas," he muttered, stretching as if he'd just stepped off a long flight instead of a jump across centuries. "Or 2149."
A soft voice chimed in his ear.
"Local time appears to be… 1324. No WiFi. No satellites. Civilization at three percent. Smells like manure and smoke. Welcome to the mud age."
Zayden exhaled, taking in the mud roads, straw rooftops, and a scarecrow wearing a dead bird like a crown. A goat bleated in the distance.
"Yup," he said. "Just where I need to be."
---
By sunrise, the village of Brimvale buzzed with its usual chaos. Chickens ran wild. A merchant yelled about fish that were definitely not fresh. Children chased one another while a priest warned them not to "think too hard." A goat pursued a blacksmith into a pile of hay.
It was, by all accounts, a regular morning.
Until the air shimmered.
High above the village square, a glowing screen blinked into existence — floating like a window ripped from heaven.
CORE ENTERPRISE™
Changing History. Opening Soon.
Every head turned. Baskets fell. A baby stopped crying. One man fainted and landed in his own soup.
Then came the footsteps.
Measured. Clean. Out of place.
Zayden Core entered through the gate, dragging behind him a silver cube the size of a chest. It hovered an inch above the ground, humming softly. Glowing letters marked its side:
CORE CAPSULE v2.9
Villagers stared. Some with suspicion, others with awe. A guard reached for his sword. One man began muttering a prayer. Another wet himself.
Zayden offered them a lazy wave.
"Sup, Brimvale. I brought lunch."
He tapped the capsule. It whirred, unfolded like metallic origami, and extended robotic arms that began sizzling something on a flat grill.
A warm, savory scent spread through the air — meat searing, cheese melting, buns toasting.
A little girl, face smudged with mud, stepped forward. Zayden knelt and handed her a warm, golden burger.
"Careful," he said. "It's hot."
She took a bite.
Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.
"Are you… a god?" she whispered.
Zayden smiled.
"No," he said. "Just a guy with better recipes."
---
What followed was pandemonium.
Villagers surged forward. Some begged to taste the miracle food. Others screamed about demons. One man tried to marry a soda machine. The priest raised his cross and yelled about false meat and judgment day.
Zayden flipped a burger into the air.
"You're welcome to try the fries too," he said. "Or you can keep chewing rocks. Your call."
He set up a glowing booth right in the market square. Its sign blinked softly.
CORE BITES™
Feeding the Past One Miracle at a Time
Within an hour, the line stretched beyond the village gate. People offered gold, silver, livestock. One man offered his daughter — Zayden politely declined.
Even the guards caved. The captain, after tasting a burger, declared Core Bites protected under "royal food safety law," which didn't exist five minutes ago.
---
That night, Zayden stood atop the abandoned bakery he'd claimed as headquarters. Below, torches lit up the square as villagers danced and feasted on burgers and orange soda like it was sacred nectar.
The voice in his ear pulsed.
"Market domination at sixty-two percent. Cultural disruption: active. No hostiles yet."
Zayden looked up at the stars, the gears in his mind already turning.
He wasn't just feeding peasants.
He was building an empire.
"Let's change everything," he whispered.
Far beyond the hills, in a shadowed castle, a figure stared through a magic mirror. Eyes narrowed.
A name escaped their lips.
"Core…"
---