In the distant future…

Nicholas the Hedgehog, son of Sonic and Amaya, sprinted across the endless grassy slopes of Green Hill. The wind tugged at his quills, carrying scents of wildflowers, pine, and the spray of waterfalls in the distance. Each step echoed the legacy of his father—the freedom of running, the joy of speed, the rush of adventure. Life felt simple, almost too simple.

But simplicity never lasted.

A sudden glow enveloped him, tugging at his very soul. The ground beneath him warped and bent, the familiar checkerboard soil twisting like liquid. His crimson-streaked quills crackled with chaos sparks, and before he could even shout for his parents, Nicholas was consumed by blinding light.

The next instant, he was hurled forward—slamming down on cold pavement. His knees scraped against the harsh surface, and he gasped at the deafening roar around him. Engines thundered, horns blared, and the smell of burning fuel stung his nose. He staggered upright, blinking at the dizzying sight before him: towering skyscrapers glowing with neon, flashing signs in languages he didn’t know, and streams of metal beasts with wheels—cars—swarming the streets.

Humans. Everywhere.

Nicholas’s chest tightened. His parents had told him stories of them, but stories were never this overwhelming. He felt small, outnumbered, and out of place. Yet stubbornness, inherited from both Sonic and Amaya, pushed him to stand tall. He straightened his back, though his quills glowed faintly with unstable chaos energy. His emerald-ruby eyes darted across the crowd as whispers rose. Fingers pointed. Smartphones flashed. Cameras turned his way.

He wasn’t just different—he was exposed.

Panic welled inside him. Before the growing crowd could close in, Nicholas vanished in a streak of indigo light. He bolted down side streets, dodging cars, until he skidded into a narrow alleyway. His chest heaved, his heart pounding against his ribs. A trash can rattled when his glowing quills brushed against it. Sparks flickered around him like fireflies as he whispered shakily to the night: “Where am I? Mom… Dad… what happened to me?”

Back at the Thorndyke Residence…

The evening had been peaceful. Chris lounged lazily on the couch, flipping channels, while Amy reclined with a magazine in her lap. Tails knelt on the floor, goggles perched on his head as he fine-tuned a small drone, its wings buzzing softly. Cream giggled while Cheese floated around her, chasing a ribbon she dangled. For once, the house echoed with warmth and laughter.

Then the television cut to static.

A sharp beep announced breaking news. The group leaned forward as shaky footage filled the screen. A young hedgehog blurred across city streets, weaving through traffic with impossible speed. His fur glimmered indigo under streetlights, streaked with crimson that shimmered like embers. Though his movements carried the familiar rhythm of Sonic’s legacy, his face was younger, unfamiliar. He wasn’t Sonic—but he ran almost as fast.

Chris sat upright, stunned. Chris: “Whoa… Who is that?”

Amy leaned forward, magazine forgotten, her green eyes wide. Amy: “He looks… super fast—just like Sonic!”

Tails frowned, tightening his grip on the drone remote. His tails flicked nervously behind him. Tails: “If Sonic doesn’t already know, we need to tell him. Whoever that kid is… something big just happened.”

Then Sonic arrived through the front doors along with Knuckles, team Chaotix, Rouge, Omega, Shadow, Silver, Blaze, and Big.