Ting…
[The Primordial Racial Preservation System requests connection.]
Ting…
[The Primordial Racial Preservation System requests connection.]
Ting…
[The Primordial Racial Preservation System requests connection.]
The sharp, grating sound shattered the sepulchral silence that wrapped the ruins like an ancient shroud. The letters floated mid-air, glowing with an almost offensive insistence—too bright to be ignored, even with eyes closed.
Lua slowly opened her crimson eyes. There was no surprise in them. Only emptiness. Exhaustion. The kind of weariness born from watching too many worlds fall and still being alive to remember them.
She stared at the glowing panel for a few seconds before finally raising a hand, unenthusiastically. She had nothing left to lose.
[Connection accepted.]
[Welcome, new host. Activating Primordial Racial Preservation System: Code C-Regs-550.]
[My name is SIA, and I will be your guide.]
A feminine voice, mechanical yet oddly gentle, echoed softly in her mind.
Lua frowned slightly, barely moving. "What is… a system?"
There was a brief pause. Then, the voice gave a synthetic chuckle, incredulous. "You accepted without having any idea what I am?"
Lua closed one eye, irritated. "I just wanted to sleep. You wouldn't shut up."
SIA made a sound like a digital sigh. "Well… technically, a system is a support interface. Some grant power, others offer spiritual guidance, some even teach cooking. I was created to preserve races. I help optimize survival using systematic and slightly invasive methods. I also connect with other worlds to seek allies, resources… or compatible souls."
Lua said nothing. Then, in a neutral tone, she murmured, "There's no one left. Just me… and my mother. She's in a coma."
The panel flickered a few times, as if uncertain. Then:
[Would you like a full scan of your race?]
Lua nodded disinterestedly.
[Scanning…]
[Scan results:]
Race: Spiritual Monster.
Active beings: 1.
Inactive beings: 1.
Total biological count: 1.5.
Classification: Extinct race.
Nothing changed in Lua's expression. She already knew.
[Preservation system cannot operate on an extinct race.]
[Requesting direct intervention from the World Core.]
[Awaiting response…]
The air seemed to hold its breath for a few moments.
[The World Core acknowledges the host as a Primordial Heir.]
[Authorization granted.]
[Releasing world energy…]
[Fusing extinct racial core with dimensional reconstruction core.]
[System evolution: 35%... 60%... 100%.]
[System successfully evolved.]
[New name assigned: Race Summoning System – RSS.]
[Hello again, host. I'm SIA, your assistant. I've been… upgraded.]
Lua looked at her, emotionless. "You sound the same."
SIA let out a nervous giggle. "Touché. But before you try to go back to sleep… want to know what the new system does?"
Lua sighed, closing her eyes. "You're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?"
"Correct. It's part of the protocol. Now we can summon souls from other worlds. We give them bodies compatible with your race, basic abilities, and let them live as new members. They can evolve, learn, fight, build. And most importantly… repopulate."
Lua raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I sleep with strangers from other worlds?"
"WHAT?! NO! I mean… not necessarily. Unless you— I mean, it's not required." SIA's voice stuttered, as if searching for the emergency brake. "They can have offspring among themselves… or simply help you. They can form a new home. A kingdom."
Lua crossed her arms. "Not interested."
"…Maybe I chose the wrong host," SIA murmured in a low buzz.
"You said they could help me. How exactly?"
"Oh, right. The summoned souls will receive your racial traits, a direct spiritual channel, and accelerated evolution. For them, it will be like… a game. You guide them, give them quests. And they grow. You grow stronger as their spiritual leader. It's… a symbiosis."
Lua thought silently. "And if they die?"
"They revive. As long as they're linked to the system, their souls are recyclable. No permanent death. Just… traumatic learning."
"And why would they want to come?"
"For fun. We'll find them in worlds where life is dull. We'll offer them fantasy, power, magic. A paradise. It'll be real for you… and an escape for them."
The idea hung in the air.
"…Show me," Lua finally said.
SIA gave a genuinely excited laugh. "Leave it to me! You're about to witness the rebirth of a race… from the ashes of oblivion."
And then, in the spiritual horizon, a connection began to form. Gateways between worlds flickered like stars awakening from a long slumber. And for the first time in centuries, the wind in the ruins changed direction.
Because a new era… was about to begin.
Planet Earth, Year 3550
A young woman walked alone through dark alleys, where neon lights flickered erratically, as if even electricity had forgotten how to be steady. The air was thick, heavy with dust and recycled moisture. But she knew the way. Her steps were automatic, guided by memory rather than will.
Upon reaching a rusted, peeling door, she knocked in a precise rhythm: three fast knocks, two slow.
The door opened soundlessly, like a creature resigned to its function.
The young woman entered without hesitation. No one followed. The door closed behind her, shutting out the world.
She walked blind for a few seconds until darkness gave way to the dim glow of descending stairs. She went down unhurriedly, like someone who had done it too many times. At the bottom, she was greeted by the muffled murmur of an underground bar: forced laughter, clinking glasses, and music from another era, soft, as if afraid to disturb anyone.
It was a place that didn't match the outside world. Here, people laughed. Here, toasts were made. Though what they drank wasn't liquor, but rare, glowing liquids in tiny vials. The new currency: bottled mana.
The young woman went straight to the bar. The bartender, a sturdy man with a weathered face and an easy smile, recognized her instantly.
"Hey, Lolian. Good to see you," he greeted warmly.
"Hi, Alfred. I'm here to make a deal with Sig," she replied bluntly.
"Of course. You know where he is." He nodded toward a door in the back.
Lolian nodded and walked toward it. She crossed the lounge, where several adults gambled, smoked, and used blue vials like poker chips. A few glanced at her briefly, greeting her with barely noticeable gestures. No one truly smiled.
She walked to the office at the end of the hallway. Inside, a girl her age was reviewing documents with a sharp gaze. She was surrounded by piles of empty vials and yellowed paper like the ancient kind that once existed.
Hearing the door, she looked up annoyed—but softened instantly when she recognized Lolian.
"Loli! Good to see you. How are you?" the girl exclaimed, setting the papers aside.
She was beautiful, with carefully tied blonde hair, blue eyes, and pale, almost unreal skin. The kind of beauty no longer seen on the surface.
Lolian, on the other hand, had black hair, light brown eyes, and a small mole under one of them. They were different… yet inseparable.
They had been friends since childhood. "The twin fairies," people used to call them in school, because they were always together. Protecting each other. Holding on. In a world crumbling apart, they stayed strong.
Even though their paths had diverged, they still met whenever they could. It was more of a necessity than a habit.
"Stop calling me that," Lolian grumbled, taking a seat. "Thanks to you, no one even remembers my real name—and now you're shortening it."
"But you said you hated being called Loderana," the blonde replied with a mischievous smile.
"Yeah, but I preferred Lina. Or my last name. An. Not that weird mix you made up."
Sig shrugged. "It's better not to use real names around here. You know that. I don't even remember mine."
"Sistina," said Lolian teasingly.
Sig put a finger to her lips, a sudden look of alarm on her face. "Shut up, idiot! What if there are spies?"
"Spies? Of what? The elves don't bother spying on us. They only care about draining us. They treat us like cattle. They don't care how we survive."
"Exactly. And if they find these vials here, they'd take them without blinking," Sig replied, now more serious.
Lolian sighed. She was exhausted. "I'm in a hurry. Give me the usual." She placed five vials on the table, neatly lined up.
Sig stared at them in silence. Then, slowly, she reached under the desk and pulled out a small flowerpot.
A flower grew there. Or at least, it tried. A green emerald rose, wilted at the edges, as if hope itself was unraveling petal by petal.
"This is all I could get this month. Sorry, Loli. The routes are watched. We barely managed to save this one."
Lolian looked at her. Not with disappointment. With sorrow. With resignation.
"It's fine. It'll do."
She reached for the vials, but Sig gently pushed them back toward her.
"I can't take them. This plant isn't worth it. Give it to your grandpa. Even if it doesn't last, it'll bring him a bit of relief."
"Thank you…" Lolian murmured. The exhaustion in her eyes was clear—the look of someone who's learned to be grateful even for crumbs.
"Go. Don't leave him alone for so long. I'll visit him another day," Sig said in a near whisper.
Lolian carefully placed the pot in her backpack and left. She climbed the stairs without looking back.
Outside, the city welcomed her with its unbearable reality.
The sky was brown. Thick, mud-like clouds floated above decaying buildings that had once been symbols of youth and hope. Neon lights flickered, powered by rotors spinning in a filthy wind that tasted of rust. Everything smelled of dust. Of endings. Of forgetfulness.
People walked like ghosts: thin, with deep eye bags, lifeless eyes. They didn't talk. They just moved. Existed.
This was once the central student city. The heart of humanity.
Until they came.
A hundred years ago.
And the heart stopped beating.
Lolian walked with determined steps, as if decay couldn't reach her. She passed long lines of people in front of specific shops. One person entered. Another left with blue vials in their hands and a soul just a little more empty. A cruel cycle, with no promises.
Finally, she arrived at a house larger than the others. Her own.
She opened the rusty gate, crossed the small dry garden, and entered through the front door.
She closed it softly behind her. Not out of fear.
But because that silence…
Was the only thing she still respected.
"Lina, you're back! How was your trip? Did you go see a boy or a girl out there?" asked a cheerful voice, cracked with age.
Loli turned and saw the old man in his wheelchair, watching her with a smile full of mischief and affection.
"Of course not, Grandpa. I'm not into romance," Loli replied with a light smile, already used to his teasing.
"Is that so? What a shame... By the way, the neighbor next door asked about you," the old man said with a playful grin.
"The neighbor next door died, Grandpa," Loli said quietly, almost gently.
The smile vanished instantly. His age-dimmed eyes clouded with sorrow.
"When?" he asked, his voice trembling.
"Three days ago. He was drained," Loli replied.
"I see… He was a good kid," the old man murmured before slowly turning his chair.
But Loli noticed something beside him. She walked quickly, her expression changing in an instant.
"Why do you have this?" she exclaimed angrily, grabbing a strange device connected to a small vial, only half full, glowing with blue mana.
"I'm sorry… I just wanted to help a bit. I know how hard you work for me," the old man said, guilt heavy in every word.
"Do you want to die? You can't use this! Your body can't take it!" Loli yelled, her voice cracking at the end.
"I'm fine. I've been feeling better lately… I can help fill at least one," the old man insisted.
"No! You can't! I… I can't lose you too," Loli said, gritting her teeth to hold back tears.
Silence filled the room.
"I'm sorry. Sorry for being a useless old man," the grandfather murmured, staring at the floor.
Loli knelt down and hugged him gently.
"It's okay… Don't say that. I was born with enough mana. We have more than enough," she said with a forced smile, trying to sound firm. "Look what Sig got," she added, pulling the small plant from her backpack.
The old man looked at it. Seeing the wilted flower, he frowned.
"No," he said suddenly.
"Grandpa, please. This will help you…"
"No. I'm tired, Lina. If I die, you'll finally be free of a dead weight," he said with stinging seriousness. "Use it yourself. Replenish your mana. I know you spend it all on me."
"Please…" Loli whispered, feeling the knot in her chest tighten.
But the old man didn't respond. He rolled away slowly in his wheelchair, disappearing through the door to his room.
"I'll keep it… but you're going to use it, you hear me?" Loli murmured with determination. Even if she had to grind it and hide it in his food, she was going to give it to him.
The plant, though weak, had healing properties. It could regenerate damaged cells and recharge the body with energy, though it didn't replenish mana. That's why few wanted it—but in such a devastated world, where even plants struggled to grow, it was a miracle.
...
Loli entered her room, placed the pot on her desk, and stuck a mana vial next to the plant to keep it alive a little longer.
She collapsed into her chair, her eyes landing on the collector she had taken from her grandfather… and several empty vials. It was a painfully common sight.
These devices, the collectors, were a necessary evil.
A hundred and fifty years ago, a meteorite brought with it an unknown mineral. When absorbed by Earth, it changed everything. Life, flora, fauna. Mana awakened the planet's hidden power.
Humanity thrived. Magic, advanced technology, science, and faith merged. It was paradise.
For fifty years, humanity dreamed of the stars. There were no more wars, no hunger. Only hope.
But arrogance was our downfall.
Like a hunter who believes himself lord of the forest, we made noise. We looked beyond the stars.
And something answered.
A race of beauty, superior in every way, descended. Proud and cold as ice.
The elves.
And with terrifying ease, they conquered us.
Our weapons, our defenses, our mages. All wiped out in days.
Their soldiers, with a mastery of mana that made our best sorcerers look like children, crushed every attempt at resistance.
Then came the Machine. A monstrosity that drained mana from every corner of the world, leaving us dry—living corpses.
But they didn't wipe us out. No. We were useful.
Every human produces mana. And it became a resource.
Cattle.
Each month, to survive, we had to pay in vials. If you couldn't, they drained you. Strapped you to a machine that sucked out every last spark of your being.
They called it "draining."
As if it were something routine. A formality.
And the worst part… they laughed.
They enjoyed watching us grovel for a little energy.
Everything required mana. Eating, turning on the lights, heating water. Everything.
What once promised centuries of healthy life now barely let us reach fifty.
Some sold everything. Others gambled, lied, stole—anything for mana vials.
But it was pointless. Sooner or later, everyone's time came.
Because the elves didn't care about us.
They could grow more cattle.
Loli looked at her old computer on the desk.
The elves didn't care about our connection or the internet. It still worked.
But hardly anyone used it. It needed mana. And mana wasn't wasted.
"Sig gave me the flower, so I've got five extra vials this month… Maybe I can play for two hours, after all these years," Loli murmured, with a tired smile, like someone about to commit a small rebellion.
"I worked hard this month. Just one vial," she told herself, placing the container on the power dock.
The computer lit up immediately.
[You have a message.]
Loli reached for the keyboard projected in the air. But a sound stopped her.
A simple sound.
An interruption that prevented her from escaping for just a moment.
And maybe, it was the best decision anyone could have made…
In a world where everyone only tried to run away.