Wise collapsed against the wall, the G-forces of acceleration pressing down on him like a physical weight. Relief was a fleeting sensation, quickly usurped by the throbbing agony in his stump. He found the first-aid kit and worked through the haze, packing the wound, staunching the flow.

  …

  The bleeding was temporarily controlled, the potent painkillers beginning to fog the edges of his torment. He chewed mechanically on an energy bar; his eyes fixed on the small monitor. His disembodied hand was still fused to the Voidwright Stone, which now pulsed with a stable, eerie light.

  "How's it looking? Anything abnormal? Also—how much time do I have?" he asked, voice hoarse.

  "Nothing unusual. Everything's nominal. As for time… only half the window remains. You're already at maximum velocity, but after accounting for everything, when the evolution cataclysm initiates, you'll be…" Sky trailed off.

  "Just say it."

  "You'll be… five kilometers outside the safe zone!"

  "YES!" Wise punched the air with his remaining hand, laughing like a maniac. "I never lose! Fuck yeah!"

  His grin faded. "By the way, when I was doing all that, where the hell were you? I didn't hear a single word."

  “I spoke,” Sky said. “Three times. I couldn’t get through. So, I shut down audio feed. Did what I could—monitored vitals, adjusted stabilization protocols. But you did the rest.”

  “…Yeah.” A beat. “Thanks.”

  Silence settled between them. Both stared at the screen.

  Wise resumed eating; his gaze fixed on his favorite show: watching #939 initialize the evolution cataclysm.

  Days passed. Wise's excitement grew feverish. He was well beyond the danger zone now, and in thirty minutes, #939 would achieve full activation.

  ...

  On Earth.

  In a fifty-story glass-and-steel skyscraper in Geneva, chaos reigned.

  Scientists in white coats ran like ants fleeing a flame. Security guards barked orders over comms. Screens flickered with various data and recordings.

  In the Central meeting room, Selene stood before a massive screen, her posture rigid.

  "Alright. I'll begin."

  The room fell silent.

  "Several days ago, we received a report of an unknown, unaffiliated artificial satellite launching into orbit. The craft's design and specifications matched no existing models. Initially, we were skeptical as it originated from a private island with no registered owner. We estimated its destination was low Earth orbit. The threat level was unclear."

  She tapped the display as footage of the shuttle appeared.

  “We were wrong. Instead, it traveled at speeds exceeding our fastest rockets and reached Mars in approximately six days, landing in a barren region thousands of miles from the human settlements. The takeoff time is still unknown, as it was only recently detected. We estimate the shuttle remained planetside for several hours before returning at even greater velocity."

  Murmurs rippled through the room.

  "We couldn't identify the craft, so we investigated the island's owner. For the past three decades, only one individual has resided there: Alerick Wise—the so-called 'mad scientist' who conducted thousands of illegal human experiments decades ago. He was supposedly dead, but clearly, he's been alive all along, living in isolation."

  Various gasps erupted.

  “It’s clear he was on that shuttle, and his intentions are anything but benign. I know we lack manpower on Mars, but we must intercept whatever he's left behind. The fact that he himself fled the area suggests he doesn't want to be anywhere near his own creation. With the Chairman’s permission, I can mobilize—”

  "We've already discussed this, Ms. Selene." The man at the head of the table cut her off with an irritated wave.

  "Your report is a chain of improbabilities. We have no concrete evidence he even landed on Mars. You're telling me he reached Mars within a week, set up some doomsday device in a few hours, and is now floating just a few hundred kilometers from Earth? Do you realize how absurd that sounds when I report it to my superiors?"

  His tone dripped with condescension. "We've already decided: we lack resources on Mars. We will continue standard operations and investigate when manpower permits. As for Alerick Wise, he'll be detained the moment he lands. You don't need to do anything beyond that."

  "But—"

  "You're dismissed. Thank you for your hard work."

  He stood and exited.

  Watching him exit, the others slowly followed, filing out in uncomfortable silence.

  Only Selene and Finn remained.

  Finn moved quickly to the door, locked it, and returned. "What was that? How can he act like nothing's wrong?"

  "Because they already knew." Selene's voice was cold. "They must have known who was living on that island and chose to ignore it. The previous administration worked with Wise. Seems the new one isn't much better."

  She slammed her fist on the table. "Fucking Wise! That old bastard. He's not getting away this time."

  She gritted her teeth forcing herself to calm down. Reaching in her pocket, she pulled a worn photograph from her wallet. A kind-faced man smiled back—her father.

  He'd been convicted of murdering a family, a crime he'd pleaded guilty to—but Selene knew he was innocent. He'd taken the fall to earn money for his impoverished family. He was sentenced to life in prison.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Then, one day, he vanished. The officials claimed he'd requested execution, unable to live with the guilt. The family tried to see his body but were denied—he'd supposedly donated himself for medical research.

  Selene remembered the last time she'd seen him. He'd looked… happy. Happy to see her. Happy to see his family.

  That was why it shattered her when she discovered his name on the list of subjects used in Wise's experiments.

  But she didn't cry.

  She channeled every ounce of grief into rage and brought him justice. She became a prominent figure in the protests against the government and Wise, which earned her this position.

  Seeing her archenemy not just alive and well but active—when he should have died in that bomb blast—was an incendiary revelation.

  “You’re probably right. I’m… I’m sorry for your loss,” Finn stammered.

  "Don't apologize. If anyone should, it's that bastard." A savage grin split her face. "And who says we're doing nothing?"

  "You— You're not going against orders, are you?! That's insane. You'll lose everything. They won't tolerate—"

  "Hmph. That bastard's a scientist, right? Then I'm sure when I destroy his beloved creations, he'll understand the pain he caused me." Her eyes gleamed with malice. "There must be something important he was working on—why else would he crawl out of his shell after all these years? I'm going to obliterate it."

  She was right: Wise did love his experiments above all else.

  …

  “Huh… something’s off.” Wise’s fingers froze above the screen as his eyes narrowed at the flickering crimson overlay on the main display. The radar—normally silent, predictable, cold—now pulsed with erratic signals, like a dying heartbeat beneath glass.

  "Multiple projectiles inbound. Trajectory is direct. Their target is Installation #939," Sky reported.

  "Atmospheric entry patterns suggest automated launch sequences from the human settlements." The subroutines cascaded data across the screen. "Payload analysis indicates conventional warheads, but the volume is... excessive."

  "Humph.” Wise’s lips curled into a sneer.

  "Who gave the order? It seems our friends on Earth have grown impatient."

  "It appears they have deduced a fraction of the truth. A futile effort." His confidence was absolute.

  "Unclear about who gave the order but it shouldn't matter. We've deployed sufficient countermeasures and failsafe. Unless they deploy nuclear weapons, they won't even reach #939."

  Wise watched the first volley ascend—a funeral pyre of human ingenuity turned against him. He wasn't worried.

  "Activate point-defense network," he ordered.

  Hundreds of micro-missiles erupted from #939's defensive grid, each one barely larger than a fist yet moving at hypersonic speeds. They intercepted the incoming ordnance with surgical precision, detonating them midair in cascading fireballs that painted the russet sky orange.

  But Earth's military was relentless, like a beast with a bottomless magazine. Wave after wave of missiles, railgun strikes, rockets, and kinetic bombardments continued their suicidal sprint towards the coordinates.

  Wise's defense was perfect, a masterful display of asymmetrical warfare. His interceptors were tiny, efficient sculptures of energy and guidance systems, each one a scalpel against Earth's clumsy sledgehammers. It was like watching fireworks.

  But quantity had a quality all its own. For every one he destroyed, two more took its place.

  His reserves began to dwindle.

  "Shit! What the fuck?!" Wise snarled. "They've already fired over three thousand rounds! Are they emptying their entire inventory in one day?

  Sky, get me a secure channel to Veron. Now!"

  A warning flashed on the screen as the ammunition reserves dropped below fifteen percent.

  ..

  "Sky, what's Veron saying?"

  "Patching him through."

  A new voice crackled over the comms—older, authoritative, and furious. "Veron here. Don't yell at me, Mr. Wise. I didn't authorize this. I told them to keep operations minimal and discreet. Someone's acting independently."

  "Fix it!"

  "I'm already on it! How dare they commandeer my military like this? I've contacted HQ. They're mobilizing to shut it down. I'm heading there personally."

  Five minutes.

  Five minutes until the evolution cataclysm triggered. #939's outer shell was reinforced enough to withstand conventional strikes, but still…

  ‘It’s just… I hope not, it should not happen. No, I need to be positive.’

  On Earth,

  The command center doors were kicked open violently as a phalanx of security personnel entered, followed by two men: one in his fifties, face etched with fury—Veron—and an elder in his eighties whose sharp eyes missed nothing—the President of the Global Defense Council.

  "Shut it down! All of it! Now!" the President barked, his voice echoing with command. "Ceasefire! I want every launch sequence aborted! Preserve whatever assets remain!"

  His gaze snapped to Selene, standing defiant in the center of the room.

  "Chief Selene, what the hell do you think you're doing? You're relieved of command effective immediately and detained for insubordination, unauthorized use of military force, and gross misappropriation of government resources. Surrender yourself. Now."

  Selene met his gaze, a triumphant, manic smile twisting her features. "You're too late, Mr. President. That geezer Wise isn't getting away this time!"

  She stood with her hands above her head.

  Suddenly, a single, new trajectory line appeared on the stellar map.

  A single weapon launched.

  This one different. Very much different.

  The atmosphere in the room plummeted to absolute zero. The color drained from the President's face. Veron stumbled back a step, a choked gasp escaping his lips.

  It was a nuclear missile specifically designed for Mars operations; a weapon whose power made the antiquated nuclear weapons of the past century look like firecrackers.

  Wise saw it too. The telltale heat signature blooming on his sensors. A cold acceptance settled over him.

  ‘So, it has come to this. Sigh. There's nothing I can do now.'

  He pressed a key.

  A single counter-missile launched, but this time it was from a hidden cache near the human settlement itself. It accelerated to triple the speed of the incoming nuke, intercepting it before it cleared one kilometer into the atmosphere.

  Then—

  BOOM!!

  The flash was biblical.

  The detonation was apocalyptic. A miniature sun blossomed across the Martian surface, vaporizing rock, metal, and flesh indiscriminately. The shockwave rolled outward like a tidal wave of annihilation.

  The entire human settlement—decades of construction, thousands of lives—gone in an instant.

  'I didn't want to kill so many…' Wise thought coldly, 'but did they really think I wouldn't prepare countermeasures for my most obvious vulnerability?'

  The aftershock even reached #939 on the opposite side of the planet. The shell groaned but held.

  Then, silence. The countdown neared its end. The mushroom cloud swelled in the void.

  00:00:06

  00:00:05

  00:00:04

  00:00:03

  00:00:02

  00:00:01

  00:00:00

  And then—

  Nothing.

  'Crap. I have a bad feeling about this.'

  He was right.

  Suddenly, he felt a pull. His left hand pulled violently toward Mars, as if gravity had multiplied a thousandfold.

  Toward the Acosmic Nirvana Voidwright Stone.

  The shuttle's hull groaned, metal screaming as the entire craft began drifting sideways. He activated reverse thrusters immediately, engines roaring at maximum output.

  He couldn't die here. Not now. Not after everything.

  But will was not fuel. The engines sputtered and died. The small spacecraft hurtled towards the Stone at a catastrophic speed. In ten seconds, the Martian horizon vanished, replaced by the terrifying proximity of the Voidwright Stone.

  Crash.

  Boom!!

  The collision had so much kinetic energy that it caused a full-blown explosion.

  Metal, dreams, and flesh met an unforgiving reality in a cacophony of shattering force.

  In the center of the blossoming fireball, a single figure remained.

  Burnt.

  Spent.

  Broken.

  Yet, impossibly, standing. Even in the space vaccum.

  His left arm, now attached back to his hand, was fused to the surface of the Voidwright Stone.

  And then, the hand detached.

  The planet beneath his feet started disintegrating as reality itself started to crumble.

  Light, planets, stars—all concepts of existence—vanished. He could still perceive himself, a solitary consciousness adrift in the Extracosmic void but other than that everything was gone. He couldn’t even see his own hand as he floated in the endless dark.

  'Ah... I still failed, huh?’

  ‘Even after years of hard work;

  Even after years of perseverance;

  Even after years of determination;

  Yet failure greets me at the end.’

  …

  ‘Am I- Am I dead?’

  ‘Is this death?’

  …

  ‘It’s not that bad.’

  …

  ‘But…’ Tears streamed down his face.

  …

  He closed his eyes.

  …

  …

  ‘No!’

  He opened his eyes.

  ‘I still won’t give up!’

  ‘I am still alive!’

  ‘No matter what, it will never end like this! Not until I truly—’

  Crack. Crack. Crack.

  Pa!

  Like a balloon bursting, the darkness vanished as he found himself standing in a stark white room.