Flashbulbs snapped in a never-ending onslaught as the white bursts illuminated the marble chamber, in which the President of the United States stepped up to the podium.

His face bore the crushing weight of the last week, meaning deep lines were etched into his brow, pockets under his eyes signaled serious sleep deprivation, and his shoulders were squared beneath the burden of responsibility.

He didn't speak immediately, letting the silence settle. Then, after looking deep into the cameras, he began. His voice was steady and grave, but carrying the firm cadence of authority.

"Fellow Americans. One week ago, our world changed."

The room quieted.

"A strange woman spoke, declaring the end of what she called the 'Grace Period.' Her words were not empty threats. Within moments, dungeons broke open across Earth, and creatures and monsters in numbers humanity had never faced poured into our streets. Cities burned. Communities were torn apart. And millions of innocent souls—our brothers, our sisters, our children—were lost. This is, without question, one of the darkest weeks in our nation's history."

The President drew a long, deep breath. His gaze remained unflinching as he stared into the cameras and thus into the eyes of the American citizens, even as the weight of grief visibly pressed heavily on his expression.

More cameras flashed.

"And yet, within this darkness, there was light. When the monsters came in unprecedented numbers, when chaos spread across our towns and cities, Americans did not surrender. The heroic awakened combatants of this country rose to the challenge. Shoulder to shoulder with our professional soldiers, our government's awakened agents, and the full might of the United States military, they fought back. Together, they pushed the invaders from our streets. Together, they reminded the world—no, even the higher powers that seem to exist beyond our previous understanding of the extraterrestrial powers—that this nation does not fall quietly into the night."

His hand gripped the podium with such strength that his knuckles turned white.

"Today, I officially declare: the immediate crisis has been averted. Our cities are not yet whole, our losses are great, and our work is far from finished. But America stands. We endure. And we will rebuild stronger than ever before."

Applause rippled from the gathered officials behind him, though the President lifted a hand to quiet it.

"Many fought bravely in those desperate hours, and we will honor every sacrifice. But tonight, I must recognize those whose heroics stood above even the highest expectations. A few dozen individuals who faced overwhelming odds, who defended citizens with extraordinary courage, and who gave this nation the hope it desperately needed."

He straightened his spine, and his eyes turned even firmer and resolute as the cameras zoomed closer.

"On this day, in the name of the American people, I will bestow upon them our highest honors. Let it be known: America does not forget its heroes. America will always rise again."

The chamber erupted with applause. Cameras flashed like fireworks as the President's figure was framed by the flag of the United States hanging proudly behind him.

Then, one by one, the chamber doors opened. A line of people entered, moving slowly toward the stage. Some were pushed in wheelchairs, having bandages wrapped tight across shattered limbs and ruined bodies. Others leaned heavily on crutches, sporting pale but proud faces. The rest walked unaided—scarred and exhausted, perhaps, but with a quiet dignity that needed no words.

Gasps and murmurs rippled across living rooms and crowded bars all over America as viewers recognized the procession. These were some of the awakened combatants, the men and women who had fought tooth and nail in the streets, who had stood between ordinary citizens and death itself.

Many citizens recognized their saviors among the ranks of the awakened.

Each step toward the podium seemed to etch history itself.

And then, in the middle of the line, came the sight that froze many minds in the nation.

Maximilian, CEO of ChronosX, had been sitting comfortably in the back, having been invited to this historical moment due to his connections. He sat with his arms crossed, expression smug as ever. But when his eyes landed on the group walking into the chamber, his composure shattered.

He shot to his feet, his face quickly losing all of its color. For a man known for volcanic rages, his silence was more telling than any scream. He was so utterly stunned that he forgot to begin raging at all.

He wasn't the only one.

All across America—no, across the world—hearts skipped a beat when they noticed a particular figure striding in. A tall man with a powerful frame. At his sides walked four breathtaking women, each distinct, each radiating a beauty that belonged more to drawn fantasies than to real life.

The camera lenses began clicking like machine-gun fire. For many watching, there was no need for captions or commentary. Recognition struck instantly.

The man was Kaiden Grey.

The same Kaiden that ChronosX had tried to bury.

The same man they were supposed to hate for being a vile alien who manipulated the hearts of innocent women.

And now, standing beneath the seal of the President of the United States, flanked by his radiant companions, he was no longer a target of slander. He was a hero being honored before the entire world.

The honored procession was guided toward the front of the chamber. Some positioned themselves at the President's side, while others stood in a dignified line just a few paces behind him, framed perfectly by the massive American flag draped across the wall. Their presence lent weight to the moment, serving as living proof of courage, battered yet unbroken.

The microphone amplified the President's voice across the chamber and into the living rooms of millions.

"Thousands of men and women fought bravely for this country. Every one of them deserves the gratitude of a nation; every one of them deserves a medal of honor."

His gaze swept across the line of battered fighters, then lifted to the cameras. "But the men and women standing before us tonight went further. When the dungeon gates broke and the monsters poured into our streets, they were there. Instead of running, instead of waiting for backup to arrive, they stood their ground and saved an innumerable amount of innocent lives."

Flashes erupted like lightning across the hall. The President's voice carried, steady and commanding.

"And when the initial danger was averted, when the dungeon that broke near them had been cleaned up, they did not retreat into safety. They understood that the danger was not over; there were thousands more dungeons that broke. Our cities cried out for aid, and they answered. They came forward. They asked this government, your government, how they could help. And for a week, they deployed into the most dangerous situations. Not once for personal gain. Not once for recognition. But because they thought that saving lives is their duty."

The chamber filled with murmurs of awe.

Meanwhile, Maximilian staggered back into his seat with his breath hitching audibly. His hand went to his tie, tugging it loose as if the air itself had grown too thin. His composure crumbled further with every word, and sweat began to bead at his temple.

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