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The moment had finally arrived.
It was 11:59 PM.
Inside the band's modest but battle-worn rehearsal space, Rex sat cross-legged on the floor, a laptop open in front of him, the uploading progress bar long since completed. To his left, Silas paced restlessly, tapping out drum fills on his thighs. Kai sat with his bass in hand, strumming muted notes to distract himself from the countdown. Ash leaned against the wall, arms folded, a rare quiet washing over his normally sharp tongue.
Everyone was silent.
Then—
12:00 AM.
Rex hit "Publish."
With one click, the debut album Obsidian Saints went live. Ten tracks. One band. One vision.
No one said anything for a beat.
Then Ash exhaled sharply. "That's it? All that build-up for a damn click?"
"Welcome to the modern music industry," Rex smirked.
They had been planning this moment for weeks—an orchestrated assault on every available digital platform. The album was now on YouTube, Spotify, SoundCloud, BandCamp, and every major streaming service Rex could upload to. Samuel had already handled distribution to Apple Music, Amazon, and other paid platforms. Everything was ready.
The teasers had gone out earlier in the week: cryptic black-and-white photos of the band, intense 10-second clips of distorted guitars and screaming vocals, brief flashes of the album cover—metallic silver text etched into a background of swirling obsidian.
The campaign had worked.
As Rex refreshed the Obsidian Saints YouTube channel, the view counter ticked from 0 to 832 within the first minute.
"I'm sorry, did that just—" Kai leaned forward, squinting.
"Yeah. It's happening," Silas whispered.
A fresh wave of adrenaline surged through them as the comments started flooding in.
> "THEY ACTUALLY DID IT. FULL ALBUM'S OUT."
"Track 1: Spit Out the Bone — absolutely killed me. These guys are insane."
"That guitar tone is ILLEGAL."
"How the hell is this their first album???"
"They've got that apocalyptic energy—finally something real."
---
By 1 AM, the album was trending on X (formerly Twitter). The hashtag #ObsidianSaints was sitting just below two international pop stars, punching way above its weight class.
At 2 AM, a fan-made lyric video for Ace of Spades had already hit 10,000 views. A popular rock music critic on TikTok uploaded a live reaction video to Angel of Death, eyes wide and mouth agape as the song's brutal riff and subject matter hit full force.
> "Who the hell writes about something like this on their debut album? These guys are not here to play it safe."
By 3 AM, metal-focused subreddits were ablaze.
> "This is what we've been waiting for. Finally, someone new who's dangerous again."
"Imagine your debut has The Four Horsemen, Angel of Death, AND Ride the Lightning. These guys are maniacs."
---
Back in their studio, Samuel Owen scrolled through the digital chaos, a grin carved deep into his face. He turned to Rex, who was sitting beside him, bleary-eyed but wired from caffeine and euphoria.
"This is bigger than you think," Samuel said, his voice low. "You've got industry people sending me DMs already. Labels who passed on you months ago are suddenly 'interested.'"
"We're not looking," Rex replied firmly.
Samuel nodded. "Damn right you're not."
Ash wandered over, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Think we'll be able to pay rent this month?"
"I think you'll be able to buy this building next year," Samuel said, half-joking.
The air was electric. As the night bled into early morning, the entire Obsidian Saints team huddled together—scrolling, refreshing, watching numbers tick upward like a rocket.
And still, the music hadn't lost its power.
Each time they saw someone discover Fade to Black and comment about how it made them cry, or someone rage-post about Whiplash getting them through a night shift, the band felt the same jolt of pride.
---
At 6 AM, Samuel got a call.
It was a Warner Records executive. Not the CEO—someone lower on the chain. Still, the message was clear:
> "Your band's album is outperforming projections. It's not just buzz—it's converting. We want to schedule a press push. International coverage. Video support. Let's make this global."
Samuel turned to Rex, who was now half-asleep on the couch.
"Hey," he nudged him. "You awake?"
Rex opened one eye. "Barely."
Samuel held out the phone. "Global, kid. That's what they're saying now."
Rex grinned, wiped his face, and stood up. "Tell them we'll call back after breakfast. We've got an album to celebrate."
And just like that, the dawn rose on a new era.
Obsidian Saints was out.
And the world was listening.
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