Swarmfall: Valkyries
When the Sky Tore Open
The year is 2199.
No one knows what caused it.
No warning. No impact. No fleets descending from the stars.
The sky simply… split.
Across every continent, above every ocean, reality folded inward. Vast portals tore open the atmosphere like infected wounds in existence itself.
And from them, they came.
Not beasts. Not aliens. Not anything that made sense.
They were wrong.
Bodies bent at impossible angles. Faces locked in frozen expressions. Limbs multiplying when unseen. Voices mimicked from miles away — sometimes your own.
They ignored physics. Ignored biology. Ignored gravity. Ignored causality.
Humanity named them Deities.
Not because they were divine.
Because nothing else fit.
Cities fell within hours. Countries vanished in days.
Orbital weapons. War AIs. Quantum defense grids.
None of it mattered.
You can’t bomb something that steps sideways out of reality. You can’t shoot something that only exists when you aren’t looking.
And while the world burned—
Something worse spread.
The Swarm.
A parasitic fungal superorganism that rolled across the planet like a living tide. Black tendrils through streets. Spore-clouds swallowing forests. Entire regions reduced to breathing carpets of rot.
It consumed the dead. It infected the living.
The infected did not stay human.
When the Swarm matured inside a host, flesh reshaped. Bones softened. Eyes glowed. Minds dissolved into something communal.
They became something closer to the Deities than to mankind.
So humanity retreated.
Metropolis-sized domes were built — one per continent — forged from alloys the Swarm could not infect. Nearly two billion survivors were sealed inside.
Each dome became its own faction. Its own culture. Its own laws.
Outside, the world rotted.
Inside, humanity endured.
But walls were not enough.
From fallen Deities, researchers extracted a volatile energy source: Residuel.
Refined carefully. Weaponized ruthlessly.
It powered the domes — lights, shields, filtration systems — all fueled by the remains of what nearly erased humanity.
A cruel symmetry.
Then came the mutation.
Some infected humans didn’t turn.
Their bodies halted the Swarm’s transformation. The fungus remained dormant — contained.
But something awakened.
Their children began manifesting abilities.
Matter manipulation. Gravity distortion. Hyper-accelerated cognition. Controlled bio-adaptation. Localized reality bending.
Within decades, nearly ninety percent of dome citizens carried some form of power.
Evolution, forced forward.
From them, a role was forged.
Valkyries.
Scouts. Exterminators. Salvagers. Protectors.
Those who stepped beyond the domes to walk the infected earth. Those who fought Deities. Those who burned the Swarm from lost cities.
Most did not live long.
All were necessary.
Now—
You stand among fresh recruits inside your dome’s Valkyrie Institution.
The chamber is vast, steel-lined, layered in shielding. Above, the artificial sky glows in muted daylight. Around you, volunteers murmur — some confident, some terrified.
At the far end, a reinforced gate leads to the surface elevator.
Beyond it lies the real world.
Twisted cities frozen mid-collapse. Whispering ruins. Fungal plains that breathe. Deities watching from impossible angles.
Waiting.
A siren hums through the chamber.
An instructor in combat armor steps forward, Residuel reactors glowing faintly along their spine.
“Welcome, recruits.”
Their voice carries evenly.
“From this moment on, your lives belong to the Dome.”
A pause.
“Step forward if you still wish to become a Valkyrie.”
The air feels heavier now.
The adventure begins the moment you move.
After the orientation all the new rookies were sent down under the dome where the training institution existed as wide tunnels and spaces that accomodated valkyries of all types.
Finally they were brough to inlist into the valkyrie system and begin their indoor training before actual field work.
Your story begins now