Episode 22: Dust In The Wind

  High Command Headquarters, Yamantau Secret Base

  The atmosphere within the executive briefing room was so suffocating it felt as though the very air had been stripped away. Dim light from dozens of monitors cast long shadows across the faces of the most influential figures within the Russian secret base. In the background, thermal maps and digital data streamed directly from the Russian operatives in the Amazonas, displaying the anomalous movements of the Area 51 forces.

  Oon and Meia sat at the far end of the massive oak conference table, their eyes fixed on the screens with visible apprehension. Surrounded by General Nikolai, his wife Yurin, and the commanders of the special forces units, they waited in grim silence for the next directive.

  “They are moving faster than anticipated... Hoto has re-emerged with such blatant arrogance, even sending a formal declaration of war back to us,” Oon spoke in a deep, authoritative tone. “The only reason he would possess such confidence... is if he has undoubtedly secured 'Brama' in his grasp.”

  Meia sat in silence, her head bowed and her hands clasped so tightly they trembled. Her once-gentle eyes now radiated a profound distress as memories of a past she had long tried to outrun came rushing back.

  However... amidst the stifling tension, the Russian officers exchanged looks of bewilderment. They were masters of modern tactical warfare, yet the name "Hoto" remained an enigma that none could decipher.

  “Sir...” General Nikolai finally found his voice. “We are fully prepared for combat according to your directives. But the issue is... we still don't know who Hoto truly is. What is his significance, that he dares to challenge a Primordial family such as yours with such audacity?”

  Lord Oon exhaled a long, heavy sigh, his gaze sweeping across the room. “Hoto is no ordinary enemy, Nikolai... He is a shadow that has haunted us since the dawn of our era. And now, that shadow is transforming into a conflagration that will burn everything into 'Dust in the Wind'...”

  Oon’s eyes grew distant, as if he were looking past the reinforced concrete ceilings of the Yamantau base, peering into the deep voids of the universe that ordinary humans could never reach.

  “Returning to millions of years ago... on the other side of this galaxy, which you call the Milky Way—but to us, it is inscribed as Terchapa Giliax,” Oon began to unveil the legend. “There existed a planet named Ronvultos, a world that had evolved both technology and spirituality to their absolute zenith.”

  The officers fell into a deathly silence, as if under a spell cast by a story more incredible than any record ever written in human history.

  “On Ronvultos... we placed very little value on the concept of currency. There was almost none of the cutthroat competition for status that plagues this world. We lived as immortals; our souls were eternal. When a physical vessel withered, we simply moved into a new home—transferring into a prepared clone. Everyone possessed the right to utilize 'Prom,' a power that could reshape the surrounding matter into whatever one desired in the blink of an eye.”

  Lord Oon paused for a moment before continuing. “There was no waste, no refuse. Everything was recycled and transmuted into new forms in an endless cycle. The elders, some hundreds of millions of years old, who called themselves the 'Quietists,' basked in this profound stillness. They ceased all procreation and chose to inhabit simulated dimensions they had crafted... dream worlds where everything was so perfect it was flawless.”

  “But therein lies the tragedy...” Oon’s voice shifted to a tone of deep sorrow. “A perfection so stagnant... inevitably becomes the breeding ground for cracks that no one anticipates.”

  Oon swept his gaze across the officers, whose faces were beginning to show confusion, before speaking again with a slight tremor in his voice.

  “Amidst that tedious tranquility, there was another group—ours—who called ourselves the 'Conservatives.' Do not let the name deceive you. Our 'conservatism' meant a yearning for a traditional way of life. We were the younger generation who rejected that fabricated, simulated world.”

  “We wanted to travel the actual universe, to truly hunt, and to indulge in every form of desire without the fear of death—since we also had equal access to the knowledge of 'Prom.' The deeper we delved into ancient history, the more we realized that the old way of living was so vibrant... the act of actual physical love, the warmth of real flesh, and witnessing a newborn—conceived from love—open its eyes for the first time. That was the true heart of what it means to be alive.”

  Oon fell into a heavy silence for a long heartbeat before revealing the most heart-wrenching secret of all.

  “I was one of them... and Hoto was once our leader.”

  The moment Lord Oon finished his sentence, the briefing room erupted in a wave of shock. Whispers and anxious murmurs surged through the air. The generals and unit commanders exchanged glances of distrust; the eyes that had once looked upon their Primordial god with reverence now flickered with suspicion.

  General Nikolai furrowed his brow, leaning closer to the conference table as he asked with a voice heavy with skepticism.

  “If you were once on the same side... if you shared the same ideals... then what reason caused you to turn your back on your leader? Why are you on our side now? Why help us at all, Lord Oon?”

  “Hoto was the most eccentric leader Ronvultos had ever seen,” Oon remarked, a faint, wry smirk playing on his lips. “He moved in and out of the Stasis Prisons as if they were his second home, simply because he stood for the freedom to live according to primal instincts. If you were to count the time he spent incarcerated... it was millions of years. But that only made him stronger; he gathered a massive following of like-minded souls, both outside and those suffering within the walls alongside him.”

  Oon paused, his gaze sweeping across the now-silent room, where the only sound was the low hum of the ventilation system.

  “We had a grand plan... a coup to oust the 'Quietists' from power and take control of the central sectors. But we underestimated our enemy. The moment they realized our intent, a painful truth surfaced: the Quietists were the ones who had engineered the 'Prom' system. Despite their love for peace, once pushed to take action, we—the Conservatives—stood no chance. They could sever our access to all matter and energy systems in the blink of an eye.”

  “The result was... a crushing, total defeat,” Oon stated in a somber tone. “But this time, they didn't send us back to the Stasis Prisons. Instead, they assigned us a 'mission' cloaked in grandeur: to travel across the galaxy to this very place... to locate and reunite with the ancient Conservative ancestors who had arrived millions of years prior. But to speak the truth of how it felt... we were Exiled.”

  Lord Oon’s revelation sent a collective shiver down the spines of the Russian officers and everyone in the room. They began to realize that the impending war was not merely a conflict between earthly powers; it was a "War of the Exiled from Heaven," carrying a cross-galactic grudge across the stars.

  “We traveled across the universe following the coordinates, utilizing the most advanced 'Prom' system ever engineered,” Oon continued, his eyes clouded with nostalgia. “It took only a few hundred years to traverse the vast dimensional rifts to reach the specified coordinates... the place our ancestors had recorded as a new paradise. A planet with a faint crimson moon, vast oceans, and sunlight so brilliant it required nothing more to be whole.”

  Oon shook his head slowly, his voice dry and hollow. “But it was gone... that planet no longer existed. All that remained before us was a small, red planet—devoid of water, stripped of its atmosphere, and incapable of sustaining any form of life. It had become a dead world.”

  The officers stood in stunned silence, some beginning to piece together the image of "Mars" in their minds, connecting it to the story they were hearing.

  “We were forced to divert our course to the azure planet nearby... Ronlongka, or what you call 'Earth',” Oon’s gaze swept across the assembly. “This world had air we could breathe, but it was far too large for us. Its gravity was so immense that even movement became a taxing struggle. The climate was in constant flux, and evolution on this star occurred and vanished in the blink of an eye.”

  Silence once again blanketed the briefing room. Every eye was fixed on the Primordial deity, waiting to hear the most terrifying truth of all.

  “In these dire circumstances... the unity of our younger Conservative generation began to fracture. Some, extreme in their lust for freedom, sought to reshape this world according to their whims. The power-hungry began plotting to establish themselves as gods... but the most dangerous group of all was the one led by Hoto.”

  Lord Oon clenched his fist. “Hoto has changed... the bitterness of exile has transformed him into a demon. He doesn't merely wish to conquer this world. His true objective is to forge a power base equal to or greater than Ronvultos itself—so he can lead an armada back to exact his revenge and bring everything in the universe to its knees before him alone!”

  “And you, Lord Oon... which group do you belong to?” General Nikolai asked bluntly, with the direct honesty of a career soldier.

  At that question, every eye in the room swiveled back to the Primordial deity. It was a simple question, yet the most potent one in a situation where trust was beginning to waver.

  Lord Oon allowed a thin smile to spread, his eyes filled with gentleness. “I belong to the 'Free Nature' group, Nikolai... We choose to live with moderation, without excess, and without seeking conquest. Most importantly, we choose to ‘coexist’ in peace with the local inhabitants of this planet.”

  Oon gestured toward the officers and the assembly. “The local inhabitants I speak of... are all of you. Mamus, or 'Humans' in your tongue. You are the species that evolved from the Wonwaning—the creatures you call 'apes' and 'monkeys,' both tailed and tailless...”

  The briefing room fell into a stunned silence for a brief moment, before Oon dropped the most terrifying truth of all.

  “The truth you do not know is this...” Oon continued, his voice heavy. “In the distant past, there were diverse tribes of Mamus on this planet who had evolved from lineages other than the ape. But Hoto’s faction systematically exterminated them all. He wiped out every differing species, ensuring that only those who evolved from the Wonwaning remained... simply because we, the Tefa, also trace our origins back to the Wonwaning.”

  A heavy, oppressive silence blanketed the briefing room. The Russian officers sat frozen, their minds racing to process the reality: humanity was "selected" to survive merely due to the bias of a trans-galactic criminal. They were now facing an entity who viewed them as nothing more than a "resembling byproduct."

  “Then what exactly is Brama, sir?” Yurin, General Nikolai’s wife, inquired while staring at the display monitors. “And can it withstand the Prom systems we currently possess?”

  Oon sighed before explaining with a grave tone. “To put it as simply as possible... Brama is the power base and the central processing unit for the entire Prom system. We journeyed across the galaxy with a total of five motherships. The first four ships were each equipped with a single Prom orb, supported by a 'Simulated Brama' to sustain the energy from a distance.”

  “But the fifth ship... that was the heart of it all,” Oon shifted his posture. “That vessel housed the authentic Brama, designed to control all four Prom orbs simultaneously. However, during the eons of travel, that ship had to utilize four simulated systems called 'Proma' to function in its stead, maintaining the stability required for galactic transit. For even four Promas combined do not possess a fraction of the stability found in a single, authentic Prom orb.”

  “We reached our destination by relying on the coordinated power of Brama and every available orb... but the moment our fleet landed on Ronlongka (Earth), everything shattered,” Oon’s eyes flickered with bitterness. “Factions arose, disagreements turned into schisms, and we scattered to establish our own territories.”

  Oon paused, reflecting on his own past. “I chose to follow Hoto from the very beginning. I was captivated by his courageous leadership and his immense endurance... He had waited for this opportunity for millions of years—longer than I have even been alive.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “And what happened after that, sir? How did a leader you once revered become your most formidable enemy?” another general asked, caught in the suspense.

  “Love... that was the true catalyst of the problem,” Lord Oon replied, casting a meaningful glance toward Meia, who sat beside him. “Meia and I were deeply in love long before we decided to embark on this journey. In truth, the two of us weren't prisoners forced into this; we were 'volunteers' who chose to abandon that fabricated paradise to become explorers—searching for a new world where Conservatives like us could truly live.”

  Oon paused, and the tension in the room shifted from the mechanics of war to the complexities of the heart. “But when Hoto saw her... he changed. The way he looked at us became clouded with envy. Despite there being over six hundred other souls on that vessel, his focus was fixed solely on us. He even came to escort us to our stasis capsules personally before we entered the long hibernation for the galactic crossing.”

  “At that time, he could do nothing to us, for the ship’s security was strictly governed by robots and an AI that followed orders directly from 'Prom',” Oon continued. “But the moment our feet touched the soil of this world... his true nature surfaced. He began to wield his power with tyranny. He ordered the construction of military bases before even securing food supplies. His sole objective was to expand his reach to seize the Prom orbs from the other three ships—and the Brama vessel that had separated from the fleet.”

  “As for what followed...” Oon’s gaze swept across the stunned officers. “You can likely imagine the scale of the chaos that unfolded, eventually spiraling down through the ages to the very era you live in today.”

  Silence reclaimed the briefing room for a moment, before a senior intelligence officer broke in with a voice laden with gravity.

  “Progress report, Lord Oon... We have completely lost contact and cannot detect any signal from the vessel transporting Brama. Our satellite arrays show zero traces—no heat signatures, nothing. Furthermore, the reconnaissance drones we deployed into the Amazonas basin have vanished without a trace, sir.” He paused briefly before continuing, “We are currently deploying a ground-level intelligence team to the site to conduct a high-detail forensic sweep of the area.”

  Lord Oon closed his eyes in profound stillness, as if his consciousness were traversing dimensional rifts to find answers that human technology simply could not reach.

  “We have no support network there... and it is effectively the 'backyard' of the Americans. The situation is far too perilous.” Oon opened his eyes, his gaze clouded with anxiety. “Send an immediate signal to our people: replenish their energy and withdraw at once. Brama is no longer there... they took the entire ship, the Exovigga.”

  Oon’s words brought the room to a stunned halt. “Within that ship, twelve Tefa officers remain in stasis... and I am certain Hoto will awaken them. He will not destroy them, for those twelve possess knowledge of Prom system engineering that is beyond measure. Hoto will find a way—whether through persuasion or coercion—to extract every fragment of their expertise for his own gain.”

  Oon let out a long, heavy sigh, his voice returning to that dry, hollow tone. “And once those individuals are no longer of use... their fate will likely be no different from the other 600 souls who arrived on the Exoron—the same ship as I. In the end, nothing remained but emptiness.”

  ————————————————————————————————————————

  The Healing Capsule Chamber, Mount Krailaz

  Under the cloak of a silent, pitch-black night, the capsule room remained devoid of standard neon lighting. Only a faint, rhythmic blue luminescence pulsed from the machines as they diligently labored to upgrade the physical forms of Master Tenzin and Victor.

  Through thin conduits interfaced with nerves and muscles, millions of nanobots executed their pre-programmed tasks. Any foreign substances not of biological origin were molecularly dismantled. The clothing of both men gradually dissolved into the fluid, revealing their bare forms as their cells were being reconstructed to be stronger than ever before.

  Yuri, feeling a sudden wave of loneliness without her companion to talk to tonight, stealthily crept into the room. She wanted to see for herself if her "sweetheart" was sleeping soundly. But the moment she glimpsed the scene inside the capsules, her fair complexion flushed a deep crimson, all the way to her ears.

  She glanced left and right, confirming she was alone. Then, her suppressed mischievous side took over. Yuri sat down in front of the capsules, her heart hammering as she stared at the "proportions" of the two men. She absentmindedly held up her thumb and forefinger, playfully gauging the size, while her mind raced with shy thoughts.

  “If it were to actually 'activate,' I wonder how much it would expand...” Yuri murmured to herself, her eyes drifting toward Master Tenzin’s side. “The Master’s looks... cute enough, I suppose. But it’s a bit cluttered, in that priest-like style, perhaps?”

  She turned her gaze back to Victor’s capsule, her eyes sparkling. “But Victor’s... that looks much better. Even though he’s quite hairy elsewhere, he’s kept it remarkably smooth down there. Truly a scientist who values hygiene!”

  As her thoughts wandered deeper, Yuri’s face felt hot enough to explode. Finally, unable to bear the internal conflict any longer, she hurried off to find thick blankets to cover the lower halves of the capsules—desperately trying to salvage what remained of her scattered moral compass!

  ————————————————————————————————————————

  Vereda Jungle, Colombia

  Amidst the biting cold that gnawed at the silence of the tropical rainforest, Drapa sat in a cross-legged meditative pose, as motionless as a statue. He followed the teachings of the 10th-generation masters with strict discipline; his body was absorbing surrounding energy molecules to fill his depleted reserves, negating the need for any sustenance.

  Suddenly, Drapa snapped his eyes open. He stared into the darkness ahead, but felt a peculiar warmth and a faint friction at the nape of his neck.

  Scritch... scritch... scritch...

  “What was that noise?” Drapa murmured, whipping his head around to look.

  Directly behind him stood a massive Spectacled Bear. It was inquisitively sniffing this strange new creature, but the moment it saw Drapa move, the bear was seized by sheer panic. Acting on instinct, it shoved Drapa hard with its thick claws before spinning around to flee for its life.

  Drapa stumbled slightly but remained completely unharmed. His skin was far too resilient for a beast's talons to even graze. Watching the furry back retreating, he decided to test his power by manipulating the air mass to hoist the giant bear off the ground and pull it back for a closer look. The Spectacled Bear could only flail its paws helplessly in mid-air, utterly bewildered.

  “You’re a strange-looking one, aren't you?” Drapa smirked, staring into the bear’s bulging eyes. “If you were just a bit smaller, I’d take you home as a pet. Truly adorable.”

  With that, he lowered his power, letting the bear drop gently to the forest floor. It scrambled into the undergrowth and vanished into the darkness. Drapa remained silent for a moment before his primary mission crossed his mind.

  “I might as well go investigate where that show-off Ben carried out his mission...”

  The words had barely left his lips before Drapa’s body drifted off the ground. He glided silently just above the treetops, surging forward toward the strange atmospheric signals he had detected!

  Amidst the dense, verdant canopy, the pale white beams from dozens of rescue helicopters sliced through the darkness, illuminating the forest floor below. The deafening roar of rotors echoed across the valley, mingling with the barked commands of uniformed officers cordoning off the area for investigation.

  Drapa immediately decelerated. He dipped his body below the treeline, utilizing the deep shadows of the massive flora to cloak himself from prying eyes. Driven by his innate curiosity, he began to maneuver stealthily around the perimeter to gain a clearer vantage point with his superhuman vision.

  “What on earth is that wreckage...?” Drapa muttered, eyeing the colossal, twisted metal embedded in the mud pit. “Falling from the sky like that—is it an alien craft? Or just an ordinary plane... Yeah, probably just a plane. With the storm that hit yesterday, it likely got struck by lightning. Heck, even I barely made it through that mess myself.”

  He watched as the officials busied themselves with rescue operations and photographing the metallic debris. Drapa shook his head slightly; he had no interest in getting involved or causing a scene. The lingering psychic signature of Benremained vividly etched in his consciousness, acting as a beacon.

  Deciding to ignore the chaos, Drapa used the absolute darkness to bypass the officers' blockade. He surged forward, channeling his psychic energy toward the coordinates he felt pulsating in the distance.

  Once Drapa was certain he was well beyond the operational radius of the crash site—and that no human eyes or high-tech sensors could track him—he unleashed his power. He skyrocketed above the treetops, tearing through the tropical rainforest at a velocity that increased tenfold.

  Hour after hour, the endless sea of green blurred beneath him. Finally, as he reached the terminal coordinates of his psychic sense, Drapa slammed on his internal brakes so violently the surrounding air crackled and popped. The sight that awaited him made his eyes widen in pure, unadulterated shock.

  It was a vision of destruction both magnificent and horrifying at once... the once-impenetrable jungle had been leveled, flattened into a vast, barren expanse. Even with only the waxing moon casting its pale glow, it was enough to see the skeletal remains of toppled trees, looking as though a titan’s hand had swept across the earth.

  “Ben... have you truly grown this powerful?” Drapa whispered to himself in awe. “What kind of technique did you use to flatten a forest like this? If I could see this clearly in daylight, how massive would it actually be?”

  He glided over the battlefield for a long moment, attempting to trace any lingering fragments of energy. Suddenly, his sixth sense jolted! Drapa’s mind caught a peculiar signal from the periphery of the forest that had escaped the devastation. The signal was deathly still... unnervingly so.

  Drapa strained his eyes from the distance, but the darkness and rising mist obscured his view. He decided to descend, dropping as light as a feather. His feet landed firmly on the trunk of a massive fallen tree bridging a swamp. Holding his breath, he channeled every sensory and psychic faculty he possessed, scanning the exact spot he had detected...

  Drapa shifted slightly, concentrating his focus to send a telepathic probe toward the target. But before he could begin, a familiar and powerful voice pierced his consciousness with such force he nearly lost his footing.

  “My dear disciple... since when did you start taking jobs for the Pentagon, showing your face around there?”

  Drapa jumped in shock. He scrambled to send a telepathic reply, desperate to apologize and explain his presence in the Colombian jungle. But the mysterious voice in his head continued in a rapid-fire cadence, giving him no room to speak, forcing him to sigh and listen in silence.

  “Once you are finished with that trivial nonsense, proceed with the original plan immediately! Hasten to Mount Krailaz now... I must have what is mine returned to me this instant. Do you understand, my dear disciple?!”

  With the command issued, the telepathic connection was abruptly severed. “Yes, Master... I understand,” Drapa replied in his mind, knowing full well the other party wasn't waiting for an answer.

  Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone to verify his latest coordinates. Tonight, the sky was clear, devoid of clouds or mist; the starlight acted as a guide, allowing him to lock onto Mount Krailaz with pinpoint precision. Drapa decided to leave everything behind. He detonated his internal energy in a split second, creating a thunderous Sonic Boom that shook the heavens. His form shot into the sky at supersonic speeds, leaving only a deafening roar echoing across the ruined forest.

  Deep within the darkened treeline, a Russian covert operative who had been hiding slowly opened his eyes, watching the streak of energy vanish into the distance. He swallowed hard in disbelief.

  “Another one?” the young spy thought, wiping sweat from his brow. “Who has that kind of Supersonic speed? Are they here to clean up the mess? As the days go by... more and more people with powers like ours are appearing. This world is getting smaller by the second.”

  He stared at the fading spark in the night sky, his heart heavy with anxiety for the future that was fast approaching.

  ————————————————————————————————————————

  The Ecological Garden, Mount Krailaz

  The evening sun cast golden rays across the meticulously crafted flora of the simulated garden. Chris’s family was savoring these precious moments, playing together as the children’s laughter echoed through the air. Yuri and Erik, Chris’s grandfather, joined in, adding to the vibrant atmosphere.

  Among the group, the two massive bulls and the once-imposing giant serpent had transformed into gentle playmates for the children. Little Liv, Chris’s younger sister, squealed with delight whenever the creatures playfully nudged closer—a scene of strange but perfect harmony, underscored by the gentle laughter of her father and mother in the background.

  Yuri, who had recently come into possession of her own "Pon" orb but had yet to begin her formal mission, treated the powerful artifact as a "magic ball," using it to playfully "subdue" the bull and serpent monsters. The children chased her, leaping and dancing along the garden paths, while even the small animals within the simulated ecosystem seemed to pause, watching the festivities with curious eyes.

  In another corner, Lars, Chris’s father—who had also received a Pon orb—chose to utilize it in a different manner. He sat calmly on a wooden bench, holding the orb to query information and learn the vast histories of the cosmos. Beside him sat Astrid, his devoted wife; the two conversed and teased one another amidst the cool, drifting breeze.

  It was a moment of profound peace, where time itself seemed to stand still—as if the looming threat of Hoto and the chaos of the outside world had never existed within this celestial sanctuary.

  The Prom Room, Mount Krailaz

  Amidst the radiant glow of the matter-processing system, the solemn Ren stood in tranquil silence. Yet, a faint smile played at the corners of his lips as his psychic senses brushed against the vast aura of happiness emanating from the ecological garden above. At that moment, the Prom matter-generator hummed softly, discharging dozens of ping-pong-sized orbs intricately woven from gossamer metallic fibers.

  “Ping... a success, then,” Ren murmured with satisfaction.

  He utilized his telekinesis to guide the Ping orbs, letting them drift behind him toward the capsule chamber, where the physical upgrades for Master Tenzin and Victor were nearing completion. Ren floated toward a massive workbench cluttered with hundreds of miniature mechanical devices. Upon the table lay a long-eared bat in a deep stupor, surrounded by nanobots busily conducting experiments on other bats in the vicinity.

  “I hope this won't be too taxing for you...”

  Ren spoke while maneuvering one Ping orb to hover before him. He tapped it lightly with his fingertip, chanting an ancient Tefa incantation in a rhythm that felt profoundly sacred. The moment he placed the Ping orb onto the chest of the unconscious bat, the metallic sphere transformed—morphing into hundreds of fine black filaments, like microscopic octopus tentacles, which instantly burrowed deep into the small creature’s body.

  He sent a gentle pulse of energy to rouse it. The tiny bat twitched its wings and turned to stare at Ren with eyes gleaming with an uncanny, unnatural intelligence. It stood still, listening to his command as if comprehending every word.

  “Go... find the Golden Eagle for me.”

  Upon his command, the bio-synthetic spy bat took flight. It soared through the capsule room, glided past the luminous Prom chamber, and rocketed up the elevator shaft—emerging into the ecological garden where Chris’s family was playing. It then darted through the garden gates into the sacred hall of stone statues, maneuvered through the winding entrance caverns, and finally burst from the cave's mouth into the vast world outside!

  ————————————————————————— Ruth VT-Hin —————————