Twelve hours until detonation. All personnel were evacuated from the Moon, the last transport ships racing along the fading light stream back to Earth.
Global power grids were shut down; electronic devices were deliberately destroyed—better to salvage basic components than let the pulse reduce them to useless scrap.
People poured into the streets, staring up at the Moon. It now glowed with a faint blue light, as if holding its breath.
Li Zhe stood atop a mountain in Tibet, once a backup site for Deep Eye VII. Academician Wang stood beside him, the wind whipping their hair.
Neither spoke. There was nothing left to say. Below them, a small village lay quiet, its inhabitants gathered in the square, hands clasped, waiting.
Three hours until detonation. The core beings emerged from underground, stepping into sunlight for the first time in five hundred million years.
Their stone skin glowed, blue arcs dancing across their bodies, as they formed geometric patterns across the globe—nodes in a massive energy network. They linked hands, their bodies merging with Earth's magnetic field, channeling its power toward the Moon.
"They're sacrificing themselves," Li Zhe whispered.
He could feel the energy in the air—thick, electric, alive. The ground trembled beneath his feet as the core beings poured their very essence into the pulse.
Academician Wang nodded, his eyes glistening. "Their bodies are crystalline, woven with the same energy as the filter. Overloading it will consume them. They knew this when they proposed the plan."
One hour until detonation. The Moon blazed like a blue sun, cracks spreading across its surface. The light was so bright it turned night into day.
The core beings' forms grew translucent, like glass statues, but they stood firm, their crystal eyes fixed on the sky.
Li Zhe closed his eyes, remembering the first time he'd spoken to one of them—asking what it wanted. Now he knew.
It wanted life to go on. It wanted Earth to remain a secret garden in the Dark Forest, even if it couldn't be there to guard it.
Ten seconds. The fleets loomed in the sky, their massive forms casting shadows over Earth. The largest ship unfurled a structure like a metallic flower, glowing with a deadly light—likely a weapon, ready to strike the moment the pulse faded.
Three. Two. One.
The Moon didn't explode. The blue light vanished in an instant, the cracks sealing themselves as if they'd never existed.
The glow faded, leaving the Moon's familiar silver surface. Static filled the communication channels, then a confused message from the core beings:
"We've lost control. The lunar filter... it's being shut down remotely."