It was night.In the middle of a silent desert, a massive military base stood, illuminated by floodlights that cut through the darkness. In the sky, countless stars shone coldly, as if watching the preparations for something both grand — and dangerous.
Outside the base, a group of engineers worked around a colossal missile, adjusting cables, checking valves, and reviewing data on clipboards. Every movement was precise, but the tension in the air was unmistakable.
"Prepare everything for launch!" shouted the chief engineer, his voice echoing across the yard like an unquestionable order.
One of the engineers stepped forward. He wore a white uniform with the military insignia on his shoulder. His name was Tyler, responsible for the final adjustments.
"Sir, I believe further adjustments are necessary before launch," Tyler said, his voice steady, almost too calm.
Yes, of course… but who cares about details when we can simply turn everyone to ashes? Nothing like playing God with a deadline.
"Stop this nonsense, boy!" the chief engineer growled, impatient. "The superiors want results, not excuses. We launch now, whatever it takes!"
Results… of course. Such a fine word to disguise an accidental mass execution.
After a few frantic minutes, everyone was in position, nervous. The missile was ready.
The chief engineer moved to the control table, where several technicians monitored data on giant screens.
"Launch now!" he commanded.
A deafening roar filled the air, making the ground tremble. It was the missile's ignition systems coming alive.
Tyler, standing beside the chief engineer, felt cold sweat run down his neck. He knew something was wrong. Critical checks had been skipped, and this haste could prove fatal.
The missile began to rise slowly, fire roaring at its base…
Then, a colossal explosion lit up the desert.
In a single instant, everything was consumed by light and heat.
When he opened his eyes, the desert was gone.No more base, no more engineers screaming, no more metallic stench of burned fuel.
There were screams now—different ones.
Tyler blinked several times, his mind foggy, until the flames around him forced back his lucidity. He was in the middle of a burning forest. Tree houses devoured by fire. Silhouettes running. Shouts echoing.
But they weren't ordinary people.Their ears were long and pointed, like fantasy characters Tyler had only ever seen in movies.
Great. Either I died… or someone handed me a ticket to a medieval nightmare. Same result: burning flesh and people screaming.
He tried to move, but realized something even more absurd:short arms, useless legs, fragile hands.
He was tiny. A baby.
He tried to scream, but only a weak cry slipped from his mouth.
Wonderful. From death engineer to nursery ward. Tragic, comic… grotesquely perfect.
Amid the chaos, a woman appeared before Tyler.Like the others, she had long, pointed ears, but her armor was in tatters, marked by cuts and burns. An arrow pierced her arm, blood dripping and mixing with the soot clinging to her skin. Her name was Isabell.
Tyler blinked, trying to process it. Houses collapsing in flames. Warriors torn apart on the ground. The nauseating stench of charred flesh.
If this is a hallucination… it's the best one I've ever had.
Isabell ran toward him and scooped him off the ground without hesitation. He tried to struggle, but his tiny body didn't obey. Frustrating. She limped, but she didn't stop. Every step was a battle, yet she pressed forward with him clutched against her chest.
Looking back, Tyler saw hell in its rawest form.Thousands locked in combat. Bodies strewn like broken dolls. Warriors spewing fire from their own hands. Explosions of energy tearing the sky apart.
His eyes widened — not in fear.
This isn't science. No cables, no detonators, no valves. It's raw. Wild. I need to see how it works.
The flames lit up the world, and the dark smoke gave the massacre a ritualistic, almost sacred tone.
And here I am, reduced to a baby in the arms of a bleeding warrior… A babysitter in the apocalypse. Better than nothing. Just don't die before showing me more.
But the fragile body demanded its price. An unbearable weight dragged his consciousness down. His eyes closed, even as his mind still burned with feverish curiosity.
When he awoke again, everything had changed.Now he was lying in a rustic wooden room. Through the window, the sun shone in a calm blue sky — as if mocking the memory of the burning forest.
Tyler tried to speak, but only weak sounds came out of his mouth.
Condemned to babbling. An entire mind trapped inside soft, useless flesh. Almost comical.
The door creaked. Isabell entered. She approached slowly, her expression worried.
She said something softly, gentle words in a strange, indecipherable language.Tyler only stared back at her, eyes fixed.
Isabell sighed, shaking her head, and kept speaking to herself.
Great. My life depends on someone who talks to babies like it's therapy. If I had the strength, I'd laugh in her face.
Isabell sighed again, shaking her head."Ah… you don't understand me. It's madness talking to you like this," she murmured, exhausted.
She hesitated for a moment, then whispered to herself:"I need to go back… maybe there are still survivors. But I can't leave you behind."
She tied him to her back with a cloth, pressing him tightly against her. With each movement, Tyler felt the rhythm of her run, the smell of blood and smoke searing his nostrils. Strange sounds spilled from her mouth — the completely unfamiliar tongue.
His tiny body trembled. It wasn't panic — it was rage mixed with helplessness. He hated the feeling of being carried like an object, powerless to resist.