What could possibly provoke such a call from Zenedeth? The question stormed through Guevente's mind. He tore himself from his workstation, the urgency in his friend's voice shredding his focus.
His boots skidded across the polished floor, breath shallow, chest heaving. The sterile air reeked faintly of ozone and antiseptic. Overhead, fluorescent lights buzzed with mechanical indifference, casting cold reflections on chrome surfaces. Only two consoles pulsed in the cavernous lab—beacons of sleepless ambition.
Guevente leaned into the flickering screen, and his eyes widened, pupils flaring with electric disbelief. Lips parted, but awe strangled his words.
"We've… succeeded," he finally whispered, voice fragile with reverence—as though staring into the impossible made real.
A green file lay open on the table, its curling edges betrayed hours of obsession. Within: photographs. A girl, no older than sixteen, missing for years. In one image, she was radiant and smiling; in another, wary and shadowed. Zenedeth flipped through pages of schematics, genetic codes, alien script. Then he slid it toward Guevente, whose gaze devoured every glyph and sequence.
When he finished, Guevente shot to his feet, heart pounding. The two men embraced—not as scientists, but as survivors of failure, of sacrifice. The hug held more than triumph. It held scars.
Zenedeth clung longer, then turned to the massive touch console sprawled like a bridge into another reality. His fingers danced across it. Symbols shimmered. Then—
A hologram flared to life.
Portraits of Shanazer unfurled in cascading symmetry: age nine… then seventeen. Vital stats. Coordinates. Behind it all lurked something darker—a spark.
Guevente's fist trembled with hunger. "Zenedeth, this will make us rich."
Zenedeth nodded, eyes steady. "Yes, my friend. This time, our pain pays off."
Their laughter rang out, hollow and strange against the sterile walls.
Outside, the full moon cast a pale breath over Veena, though the city lights fought it off with neon and noise. Floating signage and delivery drones painted the haze with pastel strokes.
Shanazer and Olivia exited Auntie Audrey's shop, full from feast and flush with coins. Their giggles fluttered through the dusk, hands clasped, spirits light. But the city bell tolled—low and sonorous.
"Ding… Dong…"
Then, the hologram ignited.
It burst atop one of the tallest structures, illuminating the plaza below with radiant 3D clarity. A man emerged, he looked commanding, grim-jawed, smooth-chinned. The stars on his combat jacket glimmered with age-earned prestige.
"Attention everyone," he began, his voice carrying through invisible speakers woven into every corner of Veena City.
Shanazer and Olivia instantly froze. The same went for the rest of the crowd.
"I am General Gerald Dracon. This is a notice from OxyamCorp Base One. We are now recruiting student technicians in Electrical Engineering, Aircraft Design, IT Systems, and Aeronautical Mechanics. This message is critical. Thank you—and goodnight."
The sooner he ended his announcement, the screen vanished. Once more silence took its hold.
Shanazer staggered, as if the pavement shifted beneath her. Her breath hitched. A thousand unspoken prayers swirled to the surface. She clutched her mouth, then sank to her knees, emotion crashing like waves inside her ribcage.
Tears came swiftly, her face grew hot, endless. Not from sorrow, but from hope finally touching her fingertips.
The crowd murmured. "Is she okay?" someone asked. But Shanazer didn't hear them. She was no longer in the plaza—she was reliving every dream she'd whispered into the stars. This was the moment she'd sworn would come.
Olivia knowing extra what her friend was going through. She dropped beside her, eyes welling up. "It's here, sis. The door you thought would never open."
Shanazer whispered like a girl in prayer, "Is this real, Olivia? Is the universe mocking me?"
Olivia shook her head, her hands reaching for Shanazer. "No," she said softly. "You're rising."
Shanazer stood up slowly, legs shaking. She knew her actions must have attracted some unnecessary attention. Somewhere deep inside, she felt the pulse of her future awaken. The shadows of mercenaries, the bounty, the years of being hunted. She smelt them. She had an inner conviction that they would return. But she would be ready this time.
She brushed tears away. Her voice was hoarse but resolved.
"I have to go. Now." Her eyes connected to Olivia who nodded. She did predict her next destination. "Let's go, sister." Just like that they found themselves on their way.
Shanazer and Olivia moved with purpose, their footsteps quick and silent like trained recruits. The humid dusk clung to their skin as Veena's cityscape fell behind them. Each stride echoed their urgency—every beat of their soles against the pavement felt like a countdown.
An hour later, they arrived.
OxyamCorp Base One loomed like a fortress built for the gods of technology. The facility stretched over five thousand square meters, all steel and glass married into a brutalist marvel. Holographic surveillance drones glided silently overhead, their blinking lights casting alien shadows on the ground below.
Five massive gates stood at the front, each humming with different energy signatures. Security beams scanned passersby indiscriminately. Shanazer and Olivia joined the queue at Gate One. Ahead of them, an imposing guard monitored the flow of applicants with the sharp gaze of a hawk bred for war.
To the left of the gate sat a compact gray terminal, resembling an ATM—but sleeker, colder. Two buttons stared back: one red, one green.
Shanazer was guided toward the machine. The hum of the tech made her skin crawl—the device was more than mechanical, it felt alive somehow. She pressed the green button. A soft click followed, and a ticket emerged, curling slightly from the warmth of its printing. A bold code marked the center: #15.
Her heart thudded as she returned to the queue, gripping the ticket like it held her destiny.
Twenty-five minutes passed.
The artificial voice vibrated through the plaza, amplified through embedded speakers in the pavement: "Number fifteen?"
The sound didn't just reach her ears—it filled her bones.
Olivia squeezed Shanazer's hand gently.
Shanazer stepped forward.
Every inch closer was a step into the mouth of fate.
Yes. This is it. Fate you can't deny me this glorious opportunity.