Chapter 4: The Heroes land in Neo-Arcane City and Hermes' and her classmates must survive the trials of Lodoria.
After the meeting with the other heroes Ungar was notified by a voice after he walked outside, a being coming out of a portal appeared. It looked like a man with long fox-like hair down to his feet, with a fox-like face with red fur and horns sticking out of his head. This was Grand Ambassador Alabaster of the Qatari Empire, who was a skilled Necromancer. He came out of the portal and asked Ungar to speak to him. Ungar for his part entered the portal and sat down at a table across from him where some tea was placed. "Would you like some sugar with your tea," said Alabaster. Ungar replied: "You know I couldn't if I wanted, you know I can't digest food. That should be clear by now." Alabaster chuckled, stirring his own cup with a delicate silver spoon. "Ah, right. I keep forgetting. Old habits, you know. Hospitality and all that." He took a sip, his red-furred ears twitching slightly as he observed Ungar with calculating eyes. "Still, I appreciate you joining me. We have much to discuss." Ungar leaned back in his chair, his metal fingers drumming against the wooden table. "Then get to the point, Alabaster. I don't have time for pleasantries. The trials of Lodoria await."
Alabaster's grin widened, showing sharp canines. "Of course, of course. But you see, that's precisely why I called you here. The trials are no mere tests of strength or willpower. They are ancient, designed to probe into the very essence of those who undertake them. And I have reason to believe that your little group will face... unique difficulties." Ungar narrowed his glowing eye sockets. "Go on." Alabaster set his teacup down with a soft clink. "Neo-Arcane City is no longer the safe haven it once was. Lodoria's trials will bring forth nightmares from the deepest recesses of your minds. Shadows that even you, Ungar, cannot simply dismiss with your usual bravado." Ungar scoffed. "We're prepared. We know the risks. Hermes and the others are ready." Alabaster grinned, "that's the thing, we need Hermes (the Prophet) her DNA could be used to make a secret weapon, you see we have many enemies, political radicals, subversives, foreign saboteurs, demons, metaphysical threats, foreign powers, the League of Villains, just to name a few. We have spy cameras situated around Lodoria to keep an eye on her progress during tomorrow's field test. And we could use a force like her to triumph over our enemies, needless to say my benefactors are extremely interested in this prospect." Ungar grumbled eventually saying in his cold metallic voice, "There's no need for any of that, they're obviously hope, the Prophet lives does she not?"
Alabaster's grin faded slightly, his crimson eyes narrowing. "Hope, yes. But hope is fragile, and hope alone has never won a war. Lodoria's trials are not just about survival; they are about understanding power, about control. Hermes may live, but does she understand the depths of what she can be?"
Ungar's metal fingers tightened against the table's edge. "She doesn't need to be your weapon, Alabaster. She chooses her own path." The Grand Ambassador let out a soft chuckle, swirling the remaining tea in his cup. "You think choice is so simple? That destiny doesn't have its own way of enforcing itself?" He leaned forward, his horns casting jagged shadows against the flickering light of the portal. "My benefactors do not wish to steal her future. They simply want to ensure that the future aligns with the greater good." Ungar scoffed, pushing himself up from his chair. "You mean your version of the greater good. And if she refuses?" Alabaster sighed, shaking his head. "Then forces beyond our control may take the choice from her altogether." He reached into his robe and pulled out a small crystalline device, sliding it across the table. "These are the locations of the surveillance nodes tracking her. Consider it a gesture of good faith." "Because I respect you, Ungar. And because I know you'll do what is necessary when the time comes." Alabaster's vulpine face softened into something resembling sincerity. "You and I both know the trials will test more than just her physical endurance. They will push all of you to your limits, force you to confront truths you'd rather ignore."
Ungar's eye sockets dimmed slightly, his fingers curling around the crystal. He knew Alabaster wasn't lying. Lodoria's trials were legendary, a crucible meant to break even the strongest of souls. But the idea of Hermes being watched like some experiment sat uneasily with him. "I'll take this," he finally said, slipping the crystal into a compartment in his armor. "But if I find out you've done anything to compromise her, you'll wish you had stayed in the shadows." Alabaster chuckled, standing as well. "Duly noted, old friend. I suppose we will see soon enough who shapes the future—us, or fate itself." Alabaster said, "Ungar I know of potential threats you can't even imagine." Ungar uncharacteristically began to laugh hysterically which confused Alabaster. Ungar replied: "I have seen countless worlds, countless horrors, countless timelines and universes, and dimensions, so I know too well about things one can't imagine." Alabaster smirked, "Fair enough, I should have known better, I know full well what you are, but still keep an eye on the Prophet." Ungar sighed, "I'll do what I will." Ungar left through the portal and Albastar for his part sat back and stated: "Indeed, I'll be keeping an eye on her myself."
In Neo-Arcania: Zaiyal and the others landed in the city and we're ready to land in the city. It was a beautiful city, and as they landed at night it clearly had an incredible night life. The neon lights of Neo-Arcania pulsed like a living heartbeat, casting reflections across the sleek, glass-paneled buildings. Hovercars wove seamlessly between glowing sky bridges, and the streets below bustle with an eclectic mix of species—humans, cyborgs, and beings from distant star systems. A soft drizzle coated the city in a shimmering mist, enhancing the surreal beauty of the metropolis.
Zaiyal stepped off the landing pad, his shoes clicking against the polished surface. He adjusted the straps of his coat, the metallic embroidery catching the ambient glow from the towering signs above. "So," he muttered, glancing at his companions, "I guess this is Neo-Arcania. Let's not get too comfortable. We have a mission to complete." Sarai in response declared: "We need to head to the Mythal-Kares, a nightclub in the city that's where we'll meet this merchant, "Darvek." Zaiyal sighed: "I remember we're never going to make it over the border without him." Everyone nodded, and walked until they found Mythal Kares. They entered the night club and it became clear immediately that they were in a discotech. The bass reverberated through the floor as they stepped inside, the flashing strobes painting streaks of electric blue and crimson across the crowd. Mythal-Kares was alive with music that pulsed like the city itself—synthetic beats layered with hypnotic melodies. The walls shimmered with holographic projections, displaying abstract patterns that morphed in sync with the rhythm.
Zaiyal scanned the room, eyes narrowing as he took in the sea of dancers, patrons lounging in private booths, and servers weaving effortlessly through the chaos with glowing trays of exotic drinks. The clientele ranged from sleekly dressed humans to towering reptilian beings, their reflective scales gleaming under the strobe lights. Holo-masks obscured some faces, while others openly flaunted cybernetic enhancements.
"Stay close," he murmured to his team, keeping his voice low but firm. Sarai was already ahead, her keen eyes darting toward the VIP section at the back. It was cordoned off by a shimmering energy barrier, guarded by two bouncers clad in armored suits.
"Darvek will be there," she said over her shoulder. "We need a way past security."
Qayyim, ever the tech specialist, smirked and tapped the side of his visor. "I could overload the security scanners, but that might draw unwanted attention." "Let's not make a scene unless we have to," Zaiyal replied. "Maybe we can talk our way in." Another voice was heard, "And that won't even be necessary, as you can plainly see I'm already here." Before all of them stood a middle-aged man with short black hair in a nice suit. Zaiyal asked: "Darvek?" The man replied back: "The one and only."
The group found themselves to a more quiet table in the back. "Nice to meet you, my name's Zaiyal. This is my wife Qayyim, and my ex-wife and friend Aquarius and my other friends Talus, Sarai and Crockus." Crockus for his part let out a bellowing laugh and said: "Nice to meet you little man, you're a bizarre little cretin aren't you, CHA!!" Darvek looked confused: "Yeah, thanks in any event, as you all know I've been hired by the government to aid you I'm also in contact with some millionaire named Nova with the government's permission." Qayyim quickly stated: "Nova's my father, we know all about that." Darvek replied: "Interesting, you see I'm new to all of this, you see Guardia is very different than this Empire, its much more quote-on-quote primitive there is no Industry or Technology of any advanced scale. In fact I've been in the city for over a month and its nothing like anything I could imagine, it's like a dream, and that's partly by design, Guardia is an isolationist kingdom, and technology is largely frowned upon." Zaiyal smirked, "So I guess we'll be leaving all our technology behind." Darvek replied: "Affirmative, but at the hotel specifically, you'll have to leave everything you brought behind and change your clothes, I have your clothing changes set up in your hotel rooms." Zaiyal nodded: "Very professional, and I can assume we'll be heading towards the border tomorrow."
Dervek nodded: "Yes, we'll be heading to the border, first by motor (hover) car and then by horse. We have horses set up at a checkpoint at the border. Everything is set up. Just get some sleep, we will handle it in the morning." Every nodded, Darvek had indeed handled everything for them, as to say they could sleep easy tonight.
Meanwhile in City X Around 16:00:
The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement of City X's abandoned district. Ungar picked at his metal fingers, glancing at Sir Rhyme, who was humming a quiet tune while tapping his gloved fingers against the hilt of his rapier. The Green Wisp, kneeling on a prayer mat (Salat) spread over the uneven ground, whispered his final supplications, his green-tinged aura flickering faintly in the dim light. Ungar adjusted his thick coat and looked towards the distant skyline. Smoke curled up from one of the city's many factories, blending into the hazy sky. His armor tightened with anticipation. The League was unpredictable—sometimes they showed up in full force, sometimes they sent a single representative to negotiate. Either way, the outcome would not be simple.
Several of the other heroes were prepared including Mock the Fox, Gordo, Nightblade, Siren, Silverstar, Scott Greer, Red Ace, Sarah the Amazing Sex-Pun, and some of the other heroes stood by and waited until without missing a beat an explosion went off. The culprits are four villains: She-Wolf, Jackpot, Loan-Shark, and Coocoo the Clown leading the charge. As they were beginning their rampage the heroes confronted them.
The explosion rattled the ground beneath them, a plume of fire and smoke bursting from the shattered remains of a nearby storefront. Glass rained down like jagged stars, and the echoes of the blast rolled through the abandoned district. Ungar snapped his head toward the source, his metal fingers tightening into a fist. From the flames, four figures emerged like specters from a nightmare. She-Wolf stalked strutted towards them with a wicked demeanor, her silvered claws glinting menacingly. Her lupine eyes locked onto the heroes, lips curling back into a wicked snarl. Jackpot sauntered beside her,a giant Casino robot that was no less than 7 feet tall. "Let's make this interesting, shall we?" he mused, flicking one of the chips into the air, where it spun like a coin of fate. Loan-Shark, his thick, brutish form barely and razor sharp shark teeth and face contained within his pinstripe suit, cracked his knuckles. His teeth—jagged, razor-sharp—flashed as he growled, "I think it's time to make a splash." And then there was Coocoo the Clown. A cackling whirlwind of chaos, spinning in circles before pointing at the heroes with a gloved hand. "You called, we answered! Time for a little...game (Hoohoohooohooohoooo)!" as he cackled His oversized mallet swung onto his shoulder with a dramatic thunk.
The heroes moved instantly. Mock the Fox disappeared in a blur, vanishing into the shadows to find the perfect angle of attack. Gordo braced himself, his immense frame acting as a shield for the others. Nightblade unsheathed his twin daggers, his gaze locked on She-Wolf. Siren's hands began to glow as she prepared to unleash a sonic blast. Silverstar floated above them, her silver energy crackling like lightning between her fingertips. Scott Greer pulled his pistol, eyes scanning the battlefield with cold precision. Red Ace flipped a card between his fingers, ready to strike. And Sarah the Amazing Sex-Pun—well, she cracked her knuckles and grinned. "Looks like we're about to get real close and personal, boys." Ungar was quite annoyed: "The pride of these ridiculous heroes and their stupid catchphrases." The battle erupted in an instant. She-Wolf lunged at Nightblade, her claws swiping with inhuman speed. He barely managed to parry, his daggers meeting her claws in a shower of sparks. Loan-Shark charged straight for Gordo, slamming into him like a freight train. The impact cracked the pavement beneath their feet. Gordo began to shit out honey everywhere as he cried out in pain, "MY GOD! That freaking' hurts so bad!!" Coocoo the Clown? He just laughed, spun his mallet, and went swinging at anything that moved. Ungar stepped forward, his metal fist clenched. Ungar yelled: "you know the plan, everyone now!!" Gordo in confusion said: "Wait… what plan?" Mock the Fox began to pick up speed running at break-neck speed. Mock the Fox brushed his finger under his nose, and then took off using his super speed to pick up more and more speed for lack of a better term.
"Behold the fastest thing alive!!" in an instant Mock picked up Gordo and kicked him towards Silverstar, Silverstar hit Gordo into the air like a volleyball and waiting above was Ungar hit him down into the ground with both fist, Sir Rhyme was waiting bellow and used a spell to knock Gordo into Sarah's fist, Sarah punted him towards the Green Wisp, and then to Red Ace, Scott Greer, Siren and eventually flying up to Nightblade. Gordo began to scream: "I HATE YOU GUYS SO FUCKING MUCH!! THIS IS SUCK BULL-CRAP!!!!" Nightblade, obviously not using his Katanas, knocked Gordo onto the ground, crushing Coocoo and scaring the other three (She-Wolf, Jackpot and Loan-Shark) to flee.
When this was all over, Coocoo the Clown was knocked out, and Gordo was on the ground honey gurgling from his mouth, shouting expletives. After the final smack from Nightblade, not only honey shot out of him but fecal matter so Gordo was sputtering around on his fatback covered in honey and shit. The dust settled as the heroes stood victorious—well, most of them. Gordo groaned, sprawled out on the cracked pavement, his body aching from the impromptu game of "Volleyball with a Bee." He weakly raised a honey-coated fist and muttered, "I swear... when I get up… I'm mauling every single one of you." Sarah grinned, wiping Gordo's sticky honey off her knuckles. "Aw, don't be a sore loser, big guy. You were the ball MVP." Ungar, still unimpressed, crossed his arms. "You're all idiots." Sir Rhyme adjusted his sword in his hilt, nodding in agreement. "Verily, our tactics are...unconventional, yet the villains have retreated, thus the ends justify the means." "Yeah, well, sweet ain't how I'd describe it," Gordo grumbled, finally rolling onto his stomach. Mock the Fox, however, didn't wait around for the post-battle banter. He was already zipping after She-Wolf, Jackpot, and Loan-Shark, leaving only a blur in his wake. "I got these guys! The last thing this guy will let them get away with is escaping!" his voice echoed before he vanished into the night. Scott Greer holstered his gun and scanned the burning wreckage. "This attack was planned. No way those freaks just decided to show up here."
Silverstar floated closer, silver energy still crackling around her fingers. "Agreed. But who sent them?" Before anyone could answer, a slow, mocking clap echoed from the shadows. The heroes turned as a tall figure stepped forward, his trench coat billowing in the night breeze. His face was hidden beneath a sleek, gold-trimmed mask, and in his hand, he idly twirled a long, ornate cane. Siren tensed, recognizing the figure instantly. "Oh, hell." "Damn right, 'Oh, hell.'" The masked man tilted his head, his voice dripping with amusement. "Did you really think a simple skirmish was the endgame?" Ungar's eyes narrowed. "Who are you?" The masked man gave a dramatic bow. "I go by many names. The Gentleman. The Puppeteer. But tonight… Call me The Dealer." Red Ace's grip tightened on his cards. "A gambler, huh? That explains Jackpot." The Dealer chuckled, tapping his cane against the pavement. "Oh, Jackpot? Please. He's just a piece in the game. Like you. Like them." He gestured toward the burning street. "I deal the cards. You play your hand."
Nightblade took a step forward, daggers still drawn. "And what exactly is your game?" The Dealer leaned in slightly, his golden mask catching the firelight. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough. Consider this… the first round." Before anyone could react, he flicked his cane upward. A flash of golden energy surged out, slamming into the ground. A blinding explosion of light consumed the street—when it faded, The Dealer was gone. Only his laughter remained, whispering through the smoke. Scott Greer exhaled slowly. "Well… that's not ominous at all." Siren rubbed her temples. "Great. Another overdramatic lunatic." Ungar sighed, turning away. "Everyone, back to base. We need to prepare. In fact… I have a place to be, I need to head off to Lodoria." Ungar took off into the air flying towards the island, as the other heroes picked up the knocked out Coocoo, meanwhile Gordo began kicking and screaming and shooting honey and poop all over his fat body, "I hate you guys, so much!!"
Meanwhile on the island of Lodoria:
Meanwhile, the Xelios University airship landed on Lodoria Island. Hermes and her friends would have been able to survive such calamities. As they left the ship Ungar was almost there, he was traveling at Mach 5, and would be there within 5 minutes, however he would watch Hermes and the others from the distance, keeping an eye on them in case they were in danger, but interfering as little as possible. When everyone got out of the ship they saw the beautiful island, the sirene landscape, it didn't look like a death-trap at all, yet their goal was to simply survive on this Island for 48 hours, nothing more nothing less. As a side note the hours on Helios go by faster on that part of the planet near the Solar Pole in its relation to the Polestar. So the days on this island were much shorter, equivalent to a 23 hour day, which made this even curiouser.
As Hermes and her companions stepped onto the soft, almost luminescent grass of Lodoria Island, a warm, gentle breeze greeted them. The air smelled of salt and exotic flora, and in the distance, they could hear the gentle hum of unseen creatures. Despite its tranquil beauty, there was an underlying tension in the group. Professor Kain, the group's chaperone and a seasoned survival expert, took a deep breath and turned to face the students. "Alright, everyone, we have twenty-three hours to complete our objective. We are here to observe, learn, and endure. This island may look like paradise, but don't let that fool you. Stay vigilant." Hermes adjusted the strap of her gear bag and exchanged a glance with her best friend, Mira. "Something about this place feels…off," she muttered.
Mira smirked, flipping her hair. "Yeah, it's too perfect. But hey, at least we're not running from giant mechs this time." Professor Kain motioned for the group to move forward, and they began their trek deeper into the island. Towering trees with silver leaves lined the pathway, their trunks humming softly as if responding to the presence of outsiders. The path soon opened into a clearing where a waterfall cascaded into a serene, emerald pool. A few of the students marveled at the sight, but Hermes couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them. High above, Ungar hovered within the clouds, his sharp eyes scanning the group and the island beyond. His instincts told him that the island wasn't as benign as it appeared. Movement in the treetops—too synchronized, too calculated—suggested the presence of something or someone else. He clenched his fists. "I'll give them space… but if something happens, I'm going in." Back on the ground, the group set up a temporary base near the waterfall. Tents were erected, rations were distributed, and duties were assigned. Hermes, Alric, and another student named Lyra were tasked with scouting the immediate area for food sources. The trio ventured into the dense jungle, carefully navigating the strange, glowing underbrush.
"So, Hermes," Lyra said, brushing aside a luminous fern. "What do you think is the catch? I mean, the university wouldn't send us here if there wasn't something to test us, right?" Hermes nodded. "Exactly. We're not just here to survive—we're being observed. I'd bet anything that something is about to happen." As if on cue, the ground beneath them trembled slightly. A low, guttural growl echoed from the trees, followed by a rustling sound that didn't match the wind. Alric gripped his stun baton. "Yeah, I don't like that." Lyra pulled out her scanner, but before she could analyze the source, something leapt from the shadows—a sleek, quadrupedal creature with shimmering, obsidian-like skin. Its eyes glowed a deep violet, and its claws gleamed like polished metal. Hermes barely had time to react before another shape moved in the canopy above, tracking their every movement. Back in the clouds, Ungar tensed. "Here we go…"
Hermes began to run in the opposite direction grabbing Khadija by the hand and telling Nala and Mira to run, Hera was close behind. "What the hell is that thing?!" said Hera. Mira replied: "That's not even the worst thing on this island, the worst thing is Blingo." "Blingo?!" said Hera. Hermes replied: "No time to talk about how we need to get away from this thing first!!" Mira would go on to explain who Blingo was. Blingo was an imp like creature he was a member of the Gandara race, the race were enslaved by the Antaro people, which were similar to Humans and Elves but slightly deficient in intelligence, there were no less than 20 other tribes. 2 of them were completely wiped out by the Antaro but one of the two tribes except a single member of the Gandara Race. This was Blingo eventually Blingo overcome by rage unlocked a secret power and he exterminated the Antaro people, his rage could not be controlled and all the other surviving tribes formerly enslaved by the Antaro fled the island leaving him as the only sentient being remaining.
But that would have to wait for now Hermes and company had to survive the monster. The monster smashed the ground causing a tremor, which Hermes and Nala dodged in an instant. The creature snarled, its violet eyes narrowing as it tracked their every move. Its obsidian-like body shimmered, shifting with an unnatural fluidity as it leaped forward, slashing at the air with its metallic claws. The impact of its strike sent shards of rock flying, narrowly missing Hermes as she ducked behind a glowing tree trunk. "Move! Move!" Hermes shouted, gripping Khadija's wrist tighter as they dashed through the dense jungle. Vines and luminescent flora blurred past them, their eerie glow illuminating the terror on their faces. Mira and Nala were right behind them, their breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Behind them, the beast roared, its voice reverberating through the jungle like a shockwave. With a single bound, it closed the distance, its razor-sharp claws carving deep gouges into the ground where they had just been standing. The earth trembled beneath its fury. Alric skidded to a stop, spinning around with his stun baton crackling to life. "We can't just keep running! We need to fight—" "Are you insane?!" Mira shouted. "That thing just turned solid rock into gravel with one swipe!" The creature's violet eyes locked onto Alric, its lips peeling back to reveal jagged, metallic fangs. It lunged.
"Alric, MOVE!" Hermes screamed. Alric barely dodged in time, rolling to the side as the beast's claws slashed through the air inches from his face. He swung his baton at the creature's leg, electricity crackling along its surface. The impact landed, but the monster barely flinched—it only seemed to anger it more. Suddenly, the trees above them rustled violently. Another growl—this one lighter, faster—pierced the air. Hermes's stomach sank. There wasn't just one of these creatures. "We've got company!" Nala shouted, pointing skyward. From the canopy, a second creature, slightly smaller but no less terrifying, dropped down in a blur of dark metal and glowing eyes. It landed between them and their escape route, cutting them off. The two creatures exchanged guttural growls, their bodies tensing as they prepared to strike.
"This is bad," Khadija whispered. "No kidding," Hermes muttered. High above, Ungar clenched his fists. He had promised himself he wouldn't intervene unless it was absolutely necessary, but this was spiraling out of control fast. He tracked the movements of the two creatures, calculating their attack patterns. If he acted now, he could take them out before they tore Hermes and the others apart. But before he could make his move, the larger beast lunged again—this time straight for Hermes. She barely had time to react before a blur of motion slammed into her from the side, knocking her out of the way. She hit the ground hard, her vision spinning. When she looked up, she saw Mira standing between her and the monster, a plasma blade humming in her grip. "Enough running," Mira growled, eyes burning with determination. The creature snarled, lowering its stance, ready to pounce. "Uh, Mira," Alric said, inching back. "Please tell me you have a plan." Mira smirked. "Yeah. Don't die." And with that, the real fight began.
The monster lunged at Mira with terrifying speed, its claws a blur of metallic death. She barely had time to react before it was on her, swinging wildly. She ducked the first swipe, then rolled beneath the second, her plasma blade igniting in a crackling blue arc. With a fierce yell, she slashed upward, aiming for its exposed underbelly. The blade connected—but instead of cutting through, it scraped against the creature's obsidian-like skin, sending a shower of sparks into the air. "What the—?!" Mira's eyes widened. The creature's hide was tougher than she expected. Too tough. The monster retaliated instantly, whipping its massive tail at her with enough force to send her flying. Mira barely managed to brace herself before crashing into a tree, the impact rattling her bones.
"Mira!" Hermes shouted, her pulse pounding. She didn't have time to check on her friend—the second, smaller creature was already moving in, circling her like a predator closing in on wounded prey. Alric and Nala stood side by side, their weapons drawn. Alric's stun baton crackles with energy, while Nala activates her twin energy daggers, their violet glow reflecting in the creatures' eyes. "These things don't go down easily," Alric muttered. "No kidding," Nala shot back. "We need to find a weak spot." The larger creature, emboldened by Mira's fall, roared and charged at them. "Split up!" Hermes commanded.
Alric dove left, Nala rolled right, and Hermes darted forward, grabbing a broken tree branch from the ground. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. She had to think fast. These creatures were armored like tanks, shrugged off stun batons, and barely reacted to plasma blades. Direct attacks weren't working. They needed a different approach. That's when she noticed it—the creatures' eyes. Unlike the rest of their armored bodies, their glowing violet eyes were unprotected. "Go for the eyes!" she shouted. Nala didn't hesitate. She twisted mid-dodge and hurled one of her energy daggers with pinpoint accuracy. The blade soared through the air, its violet glow slicing through the darkness— And struck true. The smaller creature shrieked in agony as the dagger embedded itself into its left eye. It staggered backward, thrashing wildly. "Yes!" Nala cheered. But the victory was short-lived. The larger creature, enraged by its wounded companion's cries, turned on Nala with terrifying speed. Before she could react, it was on her, claws raised— Then, out of nowhere, a sonic boom cracked through the jungle. A black blur streaked down from the sky like a meteor. Ungar. In an instant, he slammed into the ground between Nala and the creature, the force of his landing kicking up a shockwave of dust and leaves. The monster hesitated for just a second—long enough for Ungar to rear back his fist.
And then he struck. His punch connected with the creature's chest like a cannon blast. A thunderous boom echoed through the jungle as the force sent the monster hurtling backward, crashing through trees like they were paper.
Silence fell. Hermes, still gripping her makeshift weapon, exhaled in shock. "Ungar…?"
The warrior straightened, rolling his metal shoulders. "Figured it was time to step in." The surviving creature, still clutching its ruined eye, snarled at him, but it no longer had the same confidence. It backed away, dragging its wounded form into the darkness of the jungle before disappearing completely. Ungar exhaled, turning to the group. "You all okay?" Mira groaned, pushing herself up. "Ugh. Define okay." Alric let out a shaky breath. "That was—wow. That was insane." Hermes nodded, still catching her breath. "And I have a feeling that was just the beginning." Ungar's expression darkened as he looked toward the jungle where the creatures had disappeared. "Yeah. And something tells me there's worse to come."
Meanwhile in an official A.H.C. (Allied Helios Corporation) meeting:
The dimly lit council chamber of the A.H.C. was filled with the hum of murmuring voices, the tension palpable in the air. The room was lined with sleek, obsidian walls, each embedded with thin veins of luminous blue circuitry—a testament to the fusion of technology and governance that defined the Helion state. A massive holo-display floated above the council table, showing data streams of planetary expansion efforts, military logistics, and socio-political trends across the empire.
At the head of the table sat Alabaster, his fingers methodically tapping the polished surface in an almost rhythmic cadence. His piercing red eyes swept across the gathered members, each representing a vital function of the Helion state: military command, economic strategy, philosophical doctrine, and political administration. Among them sat Nova, still lost in thought. Hermes' words lingered in his mind like an echo he could not dispel. The visions she spoke of, the voices of prophets long past, the life of the mysterious black-haired boy—it all gnawed at him, challenging his rationalism, his carefully constructed worldview. Hermes stated herself: "I am having experiences of speaking to the former Prophets Elvatorr and Talib, and there's more, I've been having flashbacks of someone else's life, a boy with black hair with magic and sword, he is apparently from a different time and a different place, so far as I can tell, I am slowly losing sleep over this, Nova, Ungar, I don't know what to do, it's too much." These were the words Nova was contemplating.
A slug-like diplomat seated near him—Ambassador Volgath, a representative of the Xelvan species—noticed his distant expression. His gelatinous form shifted as he turned to Nova. "Nova, what's wrong? Are you drifting already?" His voice was a wet, guttural rasp. Nova exhaled and forced a casual shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little homesick, that's all." Volgath regarded him with an unreadable expression before turning back as Alabaster cleared his throat, signaling for silence. "As we speak," Alabaster began, his voice steady, deliberate, "the threats against our sovereignty grow stronger. We stand on the precipice of an age-defining moment, where the ambitions of our state must surpass the petty, secular incentives of mere governance. If we are to unify our people, if we are to galvanize them into an unstoppable force, we require something greater." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the council before delivering his final statement.
"We need religion." A wave of murmurs swept through the chamber. Some council members exchanged skeptical glances, others leaned forward in anticipation. Religion had long been a tool of power, but to openly propose a state-ordained faith? It was a bold—perhaps even dangerous—suggestion. Alabaster's gaze settled on Nova. "You, my kind sir, have been outspoken against religion from the beginning. Yet you have spent your recent life in service to a Prophet—the so-called 'Voice of the Unseen.' You, a self-declared atheist, have walked in the shadow of divinity. So tell me, has your view changed?" Nova sighed, leaning back in his chair. He knew this question was inevitable. "I won't deny that I once sought to play God," he admitted, his voice calm but laced with an edge of regret. "I was defeated, given a second chance, and in that, I recognized the folly of my arrogance. But let's be clear—religion does not necessarily require a god. There have been non-theistic and even atheist religions throughout history (NAT-GEO), built on metaphysics and something akin to the Greek Logos."
A few council members nodded, some considering the weight of his words. "But," Nova continued, "the most enduring of traditional religions have always required one thing: an afterlife. A reward. The existence of a deity is irrelevant—what matters is the promise of something beyond this life. And as you well know, the Prophet's creed acknowledges the existence of the divine but speaks little of the afterlife. The question is, should we construct an orthodoxy regarding it? Should we give our people a defined vision of what awaits beyond death?"
Alabaster steepled his fingers. "Yes," he said simply. "If our soldiers are to conquer this planet—and in time, the universe—it will not be enough for them to do so for honor and patriotism alone. They must believe that their sacrifices mean something. That even if they die in the most brutal, meaningless fashion, a station of honor awaits them beyond this existence. Many of these men cannot wield Mana, Chi, or Ren. They will be fodder in a cosmic war. We owe them something."
Nova nodded slowly. "Plato once said that soldiers will not die for the honor of the republic without a promised reward in the hereafter. For without that, they have nothing to fear." He gestured toward the holo-display, where images of military operations flickered. "The arts, the industry, the wisdom of this empire—none of it will be enough, as both Plato and Aristotle agreed. Aristotle even stated in the Nicomachean Ethics that wisdom in the arts is merely excellence in skill, nothing more. That will not sustain an empire, nor its people."
Alabaster smirked, pleased with the direction of the conversation. "So we are in agreement, then? The state will uphold religious freedom, but it is this faith—our faith—that will be the one promoted. The one that binds our people together." Nova exhaled. "Yes. The masses need something to believe in. But the question remains—do we, as the architects of this vision, believe in it ourselves?" A shadow of amusement crossed Alabaster's face. "I suspect we will adhere to what we have always followed behind closed doors. As Nietzsche once said, 'Christianity is Plato for the masses.' By that logic, we—the ruling class—shall keep Plato as our Christianity.' Neoplatonism and Christianity are not relevant in this situation, of course Nietzsche was referring to 19th century Europe, but there needs to be a public and private ideology for our empire, that much is clear."
A quiet chuckle rippled through the chamber, though some remained stoic. Nova folded his hands together. "Then tell me, Alabaster—what exactly will we promise them? What afterlife shall we construct? Will it be one of divine judgment? Rebirth? An eternal battlefield where the honored dead fight forever?" Alabaster leaned forward, a predatory glint in his eyes. "That, my dear Nova, is what we must now decide." The council chamber grew silent again, but this time, it was the silence of purpose—the silence before something monumental was set into motion.
Nova watched as Alabaster leaned forward, the weight of his words pressing down on the room like an unseen force. The murmurs had died down, leaving only the quiet hum of the holo-displays and the rhythmic tapping of Alabaster's fingers against the table. The room was waiting—waiting for the next move, the next argument, the next decree that would shape the course of their empire. Nova sighed and folded his hands together. "So, tell me, Alabaster. What will our promised afterlife be? A land of endless peace, a celestial hierarchy of reward, or something more… brutal?"
Alabaster's smirk was almost imperceptible, but Nova saw it. "We must consider what motivates men," he said slowly. "What stirs them to action? Fear? Desire? Duty? No—glory." His red eyes flickered in the dim light. "We will promise them a warrior's paradise. An eternal battlefield, where the honored dead rise again, not as mere shades, but as ascended warriors, forever fighting, forever victorious. A heaven where only the strongest and most loyal may tread." A few council members exchanged approving nods, while others remained silent, processing the implications.
Ambassador Volgath's gelatinous form shifted, his deep-set eyes narrowing. "A warrior's paradise," he mused, his voice slow and deliberate. "A fitting reward for soldiers, but what of the common man? The laborers? The scholars? The architects of our empire who do not wield swords?" Alabaster did not flinch. "We will have levels. Castes within the afterlife, just as we do in life. Warriors ascend to the eternal battlefield, but the learned—the philosophers, the visionaries—will enter the Great Library, where knowledge flows like an endless river. The workers will find peace in the Eternal City, where prosperity and purpose never wane. Every soul will have its place." Nova's gaze darkened. "A neatly ordered eternity. A state-crafted heaven." He exhaled. "And if we fabricate this afterlife, what of the cost? What of the people who will see through it?" Alabaster's expression hardened. "If they see through it, then they were never meant to believe." A tense silence followed.
Nova knew this wasn't just rhetoric. Alabaster's mind was already turning, calculating. Those who rejected the faith would be cast out—not just in the spiritual sense, but in reality. Dissenters would be marginalized, removed, silenced. Faith was not just a tool of unity; it was a weapon of control. And yet, as much as Nova despised the thought, he could not argue against the logic. History had proven time and time again that civilization thrived not just on law and order, but on belief. The people needed something greater than themselves. But what about him? He had walked the path of secularism, had dismissed faith as a crutch for the weak-minded. Yet Hermes' words haunted him. The visions, the prophets, the boy from another time and place.
Could he truly claim that there was nothing beyond this world? A cold, metallic voice interrupted his thoughts. "You hesitate, Nova." All heads turned toward the source—General Thalos, a cybernetically enhanced officer of the A.H.C. His body was more machine than man, his face lined with the scars of a hundred battles. His glowing red optics locked onto Nova with unsettling precision.
"If you hesitate now," Thalos continued, his voice devoid of emotion, "it means you are uncertain. And uncertainty leads to weakness." Nova met his gaze, unshaken. "No, General. Uncertainty leads to wisdom. To question is not to falter—it is to refine."
Thalos gave no indication of offense, but his mechanical fingers flexed slightly, the servos whirring softly. "Then refine quickly. The empire does not wait." Alabaster cleared his throat. "Indeed. This meeting is not one of endless debate. We are here to build the foundation of something greater than ourselves." He turned to the council. "We must move forward with this decision. Our people will need time to accept it, but with the right guidance, they will follow." He glanced back at Nova. "Do you stand with us in this?" Nova hesitated. He was no fool—refusing outright would only brand him as an obstacle. But he could not ignore the nagging doubt in his mind, the feeling that something greater was at play. So he chose his words carefully.
"I stand with the people," he said at last. "If this faith is what they need, then I will ensure it is one they can believe in." Alabaster smiled, satisfied. "Then it is decided." The holo-display flickered as new data began to scroll across its surface—blueprints for temples, doctrines of the faith, symbols and rituals yet to be written. The state had just given birth to a new religion. And Nova had just helped shape it. But deep down, he wondered—was he creating something to unite his people, or something that would one day control them? And more importantly, did it even matter?
After the meeting was over, Alabaster entered one of his portals and entered a strange laboratory. There was a female scientist standing beside him typing on a tablet she was stating: "Sir we have some final tests, but the Prototype for the Ultimate Life-Form is almost complete." Alabaster looked at a human being in a large liquid vase floating with his eyes closed and wires coming from his skin. He calmly said: "Perfect, and once we get the genes of the Prophet, we should have security."