At 10:30 pm, The gravel road stretched endlessly into the abyss of the night, flanked on either side by gnarled trees that twisted upwards like skeletal hands clawing at the moonless sky. Captain Wen-Liao and his squad sat tense in their armoured jeep, its metal frame rattling softly with every bump and rut. The air was thick, oppressive, as if the very night itself were conspiring against them.
At the wheel, Kerin Longcutter frowned, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. The engine sputtered, coughed once, and died, plunging them into an unnatural silence.
“What the bloody hell?” Kerin muttered, flipping switches and turning the ignition with increasing frustration. “The jeep’s gone cold, sir. Nothing’s responding.”
Dagdan Leesoney, ever quick with his sarcasm, leaned forward. “Nothing a good thump on the bonnet can’t fix. Or is this one of those cursed nights you hear about in those cheap horror films?”
Sionola O’Leahy, perched beside him, rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut it, Dagdan. Not every odd thing needs your running commentary.” She shivered slightly but masked it with an irritated shrug.
Wen-Liao raised a hand, silencing them all. “Quiet.”
The soft toll of a bell echoed faintly through the trees, its sound delicate yet piercing, like the mournful cry of something lost. Wen-Liao stiffened, his sharp eyes scanning the woods. “Do you hear that?” he asked, his voice low but firm.
The bell tolled again, faint but deliberate, its rhythm pulling at something primal in their minds.
“I don’t think we should investigate,” Sionola murmured, her voice betraying her unease as her heart thundered in her chest.
Before anyone could respond, a scream ripped through the stillness, rising from the depths of the woods. It was a sound of raw terror, human yet otherworldly, and it sent a chill racing down their spines.
Wen-Liao stood, his expression unyielding. “Are you soldiers or not?” he barked, his voice cutting through their fear like a blade. “Fear has no place here.”
Kerin, jolted into action, restarted the jeep with a shaky hand. The engine roared back to life, and the vehicle lurched forward, the gravel crunching beneath its tyres.
The squad arrived at the abandoned base an hour later, the shadows of the hollowed-out buildings looming over them like silent sentinels. Once teeming with military precision, the base was now a ghost of its former self.
The buildings stood lifeless, their windows shattered and their doors swinging aimlessly in the wind. Ammunition crates lay strewn across the ground, their contents spilling like the guts of a gutted beast. Blood streaked the walls in jagged, dried smears, and furniture lay overturned, crushed under the weight of chaos.
“Sergeant Davis, are you sure this is the place?” Wen-Liao asked into his crackling walkie-talkie.
A shallow voice replied, distorted and distant. “Yes. That's a command confirmation. Get ready.”
The squad disembarked from their vehicle, their boots crunching through the brittle leaves carpeting the ground. Fog coiled around them, thick and unrelenting, obscuring their view and amplifying the weight of the silence.
“Stay sharp,” Wen-Liao ordered. “Split up. Kerin, Sionola—you take the lower levels. Dagdan, you’re with me.”
The team moved cautiously, their weapons raised. The faint chant of numbers echoed from a radio transmission, its monotony worming into their ears like an incessant buzz.
Wen-Liao and Dagdan ascended a crumbling staircase, their steps muffled by layers of dust. The command centre was a shadow of its former self. The consoles blinked intermittently, their screens cracked and their keys smeared with blood. A single dim light flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across the room.
The chant from the transmission grew louder, a ceaseless repetition of numbers that seemed to thrum in Wen-Liao’s skull. The meaning eluded him, like a whisper lost in the fog, yet its insistence bore into his mind.
A bell tolled again, this time louder, closer. Wen-Liao’s grip tightened on his weapon as he keyed his walkie-talkie. “Sionola, report.”
Her voice crackled through. “We hear it too. It’s coming from the lower levels. It’s… it’s getting louder.”
The squad regrouped, descending into the depths of the base where the sound of the bell resonated like a heartbeat in the dark. Their torches pierced the gloom, the beams trembling slightly as they revealed a figure ahead.
It stood unnaturally still, a humanoid shape clad in a tattered cloak adorned with dozens of bells that swayed gently, emitting soft, eerie chimes. Its skin was pallid and stretched taut over its frame, its face obscured by a mask carved into a grotesque semblance of humanity.
For a moment, the air was suffocatingly still. Then, the figure moved.
The bells erupted into a cacophony as the creature charged, its gait jerky yet horrifyingly fast. The squad opened fire, the staccato of gunfire mingling with the deafening chimes. The creature’s cloak absorbed the bullets like a shroud of malice, its advance unrelenting.
Kerin yelled as the door behind them slammed shut with a metallic clang, trapping them in the confined corridor. “We’re locked in!”
“Keep firing!” Wen-Liao commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
The squad retreated as the creature closed in, its bells creating a soundscape of madness. Sionola threw a flash grenade, the detonation lighting up the darkness. The creature staggered, its bells emitting a discordant shriek, and Dagdan seized the opportunity.
“Now! Aim for the head!” he roared.
Wen-Liao fired a precise shot, his bullet tearing through the mask. The creature let out a guttural howl, collapsing as its bells fell silent, their eerie melody extinguished.
The squad stumbled out into the open air, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. Wen-Liao contacted Sergeant Davis, recounting the ordeal.
Davis’s voice was eerily calm. “Understood. Return to base immediately. This isn’t over.”
Sionola leaned against the jeep, her hands trembling as she wiped blood from her face. “That thing,” she murmured, her voice wavering, “it wasn’t human. It wasn’t anything I’ve ever seen. How can we fight something like that?”
Kerin placed a hand on his shoulder, his own expression grim but steady. “We fight because we have to. Because if we don’t, who will?”
Sionola nodded slowly, her resolve hardening. As the jeep roared to life and they began their journey back, the haunting chime of the bells lingered in their minds, a reminder that the darkness they faced was far from vanquished.
Next, The squad’s armoured vehicle rumbled down the gravel road, its steel frame groaning under the strain of its journey. The silence inside was oppressive, broken only by the rhythmic hum of the engine and the occasional hiss of static from the radio. The distant toll of the bells still echoed in their minds, a sinister melody that refused to fade.
The sprawling headquarters of the Federal Army Corporation (FAC) came into view, a fortress of steel and concrete bristling with watchtowers and floodlights. The gates opened with mechanical precision, and the squad drove through, their vehicle coming to a halt in the central motor pool. Soldiers moved purposefully across the compound, their boots clattering on the tarmac, but to Wen-Liao and his team, the familiar bustle felt strangely distant.
Sergeant Davis Washington, a broad-shouldered man with a grizzled face and piercing grey eyes, stood waiting for them. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable as the squad disembarked. Beside him were Commander Eleanor Vance, a stern woman with silver-streaked hair and a presence that commanded absolute respect, and Lieutenant Jared Colt, a younger officer with an analytical gaze and a perpetual air of unease.
Wen-Liao saluted sharply, his squad following suit. “Sir, mission completed. We encountered… something at the abandoned base. It wasn’t human.”
Davis’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “Explain.”
Wen-Liao gestured to his team, his tone measured but laced with tension. “The base was abandoned, but we found blood, destroyed equipment, and a repeating transmission of numbers. The source of the disturbance was a humanoid entity, cloaked, covered in bells, and seemingly impervious to gunfire. It attacked us. We neutralised it, but…” He paused, his words faltering for the first time. “It wasn’t like anything we’ve ever faced.”
The mention of the creature made Sionola visibly shudder. She glanced at Davis, her voice shaky but firm. “Sir, that thing… it wasn’t human. It wasn’t alive in the way we understand. And it felt like… like it was calling us.”
Davis’s expression darkened, a storm gathering behind his grey eyes. He stepped closer, his voice low but resonant. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just brought back to us? This isn’t a rogue unit or an insurgent. It’s something far worse.”
He turned sharply to Commander Vance, his voice hardening. “We need to alert the higher command. This aligns with the anomalies reported near the Delta Zone. It’s not an isolated incident.”
Commander Eleanor Vance’s expression betrayed no emotion, but the faint twitch of her jaw spoke volumes. She folded her arms across her chest, her tone as sharp as a razor’s edge. “So, we’re dealing with an unidentified threat. One that infiltrated a secured base and left behind… whatever this is.” She fixed her piercing gaze on Wen-Liao. “Did you recover anything? Evidence?”
Dagdan stepped forward, pulling a small pouch from his vest. “We salvaged a fragment of its mask, ma’am. It shattered when Captain Wen-Liao delivered the final shot.”
Vance took the pouch, holding it up to the light. The fragment glinted faintly, its surface etched with markings that seemed to writhe when looked at too closely. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“This is no ordinary foe,” Vance said, her voice cold. “It’s tactical, deliberate, and hostile. Lieutenant Colt, begin analysing the fragment immediately. I want a full report on its composition and origin within twenty-four hours.”
Colt adjusted his glasses, his expression tightening. “Yes, ma’am. But if this is what I think it is… we might be looking at something beyond conventional science.”
As the officers continued their discussion, Sionola leaned against the vehicle, her hands trembling as she lit a cigarette. Her nerves were frayed, and her usually sharp wit was dulled by the weight of the night’s events.
Kerin approached her, his tone softer than usual. “You alright?”
Sionola exhaled a plume of smoke, her eyes fixed on the ground. “Alright? After seeing that thing? Not bloody likely. I can still hear the bells, Kerin. Every time I close my eyes, they’re there.”
“You’re not alone,” Kerin said, his voice steady. “We all saw it. We all felt it. But we survived, and we’ll keep surviving. You just have to keep moving forward.”
Sionola nodded slowly, her hands steadying. “Yeah. Keep moving forward. It’s all we can do, right?”
Davis turned back to the squad, his voice resolute. “You’ve done your part, and you’ve done it well. But this isn’t over. Debrief, rest, and prepare. This mission isn’t done until we understand what we’re dealing with.”
He paused, his eyes locking with Wen-Liao’s. “And Captain, you and your team might be called on again. If we’re going to face more of these things, we’ll need soldiers who’ve seen them and lived to tell the tale.”
Wen-Liao nodded. “Understood, sir.”
As the squad dispersed, the weight of their ordeal lingered, an invisible spectre following each of them. The bells had fallen silent, but their echoes would remain, a haunting reminder of the darkness they had faced—and the greater horrors yet to come.
In the sterile confines of the Federal Army Corporation’s laboratory, Lieutenant Jared Colt stood hunched over a high-tech workstation. The room buzzed softly with the hum of advanced equipment, its walls lined with monitors streaming data. The fragment from the humanoid entity lay under a protective dome, illuminated by a harsh beam of light that revealed its strange, undulating markings.
Colt adjusted his gloves and leaned closer, his brow furrowed in concentration. The fragment, though inert, radiated an aura of wrongness, as if it were an object not meant to exist in this world. He activated the spectrometer, a beam of energy scanning the surface of the fragment.
“What are you hiding?” Colt muttered to himself, his analytical mind racing.
The machine spat out a series of readings, each one more confounding than the last. The composition of the fragment defied conventional understanding: its molecular structure was unstable, constantly shifting in a way that suggested it wasn’t bound by the same laws of physics as terrestrial matter.
Commander Eleanor Vance entered the lab, her presence instantly commanding attention. “Report,” she said curtly, folding her arms.
Colt straightened, removing his gloves. “The fragment’s composition is… anomalous, ma’am. It’s not made of any known material, at least not one we’ve encountered. Its molecular structure is unstable, yet it’s holding together. Almost as if it exists halfway between states of matter.”
Vance’s expression darkened. “Can it be weaponised?”
Colt hesitated. “Not in any conventional sense. But if we can’t understand it, I’d wager whoever—or whatever—created it knows how to use it. This isn’t just technology, Commander. It’s something more… advanced, or perhaps older.”
Vance’s jaw tightened. “Keep working. I want every piece of data extracted from that fragment. No detail is too small.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Colt replied, returning to his station.
In the barracks, the mood was subdued. The team sat in various states of exhaustion, their minds still reeling from the night’s events.
Kerin Longcutter stretched out on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. “You ever think about quitting?” he asked, his voice soft.
Sionola O’Leahy, perched on the edge of her own bunk, let out a dry laugh. “After tonight? More than once.” She rubbed her arms, the memory of the bells crawling over her skin like phantom insects. “But then I think, what else would I do? Go back to normal life? After seeing that?”
Dagdan Leesoney, sitting cross-legged on the floor, snorted. “Normal’s overrated. Besides, we’re alive. That’s something to toast to, right?”
“Toast with what?” Sionola replied, smirking faintly. “The mess hall coffee?”
The group shared a laugh, the first one since their ordeal. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
In his private quarters, Captain Wen-Liao sat at his desk, his fingers hovering over his encrypted communicator. He hesitated for a moment before dialing. The connection buzzed briefly before the screen lit up with the familiar face of his sister, Chief Wen-Li of the SSCBF.
“Wen-Liao,” she said, her voice warm but tinged with her usual sharpness. “You don’t call often. What’s the occasion?”
Wen-Liao leaned back in his chair, his expression calm but guarded. “Can’t a brother check in on his sister?”
Wen-Li raised an eyebrow, her black hair neatly tied back in her signature bun. “You’ve never been the sentimental type. So, how’s your mission? Routine, I assume?”
Wen-Liao’s hand tightened slightly around the communicator, but his voice remained steady. “Routine, yes. Nothing out of the ordinary. We handled it.”
Wen-Li narrowed her eyes, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. “You’re hiding something. You always do that little pause when you’re lying.”
Wen-Liao smirked faintly. “I’m not lying. The mission’s done, that’s all. What about you? How’s life at the top?”
Wen-Li sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Busy. Too busy. The SSCBF is an endless storm, and I’m the one holding the umbrella.”
“You’ve always liked storms,” Wen-Liao said, his tone light.
Wen-Li chuckled softly. “True enough. But even I need a break sometimes. What about you? When’s the last time you actually took a day off?”
Wen-Liao shrugged. “A soldier doesn’t take breaks. You taught me that.”
Her expression softened. “Maybe I taught you wrong.”
The siblings shared a quiet moment of understanding before Wen-Li straightened, her sharpness returning. “Well, don’t die out there, Wen-Liao. I’d hate to have to explain to the family that you got yourself killed being reckless.”
“I’m not reckless,” he said, smirking. “Just efficient.”
“Sure you are,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Take care, brother.”
“You too, Wen-Li.”
As the call ended, Wen-Liao stared at the blank screen, his smirk fading. His thoughts drifted back to the bells, the creature, and the unshakable sense that something far greater was unfolding.
Chief Wen-Li sat at her desk, her eyes darting across the endless cascade of reports glowing on her holographic screen. The room was silent save for the rhythmic tapping of her fingers on the glassy interface. Her focus was unyielding, the weight of her responsibilities anchoring her to the task at hand.
Yet beneath her composed exterior, a rebellion stirred. A faint rumble broke the silence, low and subtle, emanating from her midsection. Wen-Li froze, glancing around as though the sound had been an external disturbance. She dismissed it with a sharp shake of her head, returning to her work.
Moments later, the rumble came again, this time louder and more insistent.
“Oh, not now,” Wen-Li muttered under her breath, pressing a hand to her abdomen as if to silence the protest.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Nightingale stepped in, a neat stack of files cradled in her arms. Her poised demeanour was as sharp as her neatly pressed uniform.
“Chief, here are the files you requested,” she said, setting them gently on the corner of the desk. “Everything cross-referenced and verified.”
“Thank you, Nightingale,” Wen-Li said, not looking up.
Nightingale tilted her head, her keen eyes catching the faint flush on Wen-Li’s cheeks. “You look… distracted, Chief. Is everything alright?”
Wen-Li sighed, leaning back in her chair. “No, everything is not alright. I’m starving.”
Before Nightingale could respond, another loud growl erupted from Wen-Li’s stomach, reverberating through the room like the low growl of a waking beast.
Nightingale froze, blinking in surprise before a soft chuckle escaped her lips. “Chief, was that… you?”
Wen-Li’s lips thinned, her cheeks warming. “Yes, alright? That was me. And it’s a problem I intend to solve immediately.”
Wen-Li stood abruptly, smoothing the creases of her jacket with a decisive motion. “Nightingale, we’re going out. Dinner.”
Nightingale blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “Dinner, Chief? Are you… inviting me?”
“Yes, and not just you. Lan Qian, Tao-Ren, Captain Lingaong Xuein, Labibah, Demitin—all of them. I’m not eating alone tonight.”
“But why—”
Wen-Li cut her off with a raised hand. “Because I said so, and because I’m too hungry to think straight.”
As if to punctuate her statement, her stomach growled again, louder this time, echoing through the room with such intensity that even Wen-Li paused in surprise.
Nightingale doubled over with laughter, trying to stifle the sound but failing miserably. “Chief, your stomach has more authority than most commanders I’ve met.”
“Enough of that,” Wen-Li said, waving her hand dismissively, though her lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile. “Now, go. Gather the others. Dinner is on me.”
As Nightingale turned to leave, she paused at the door. “Chief, just to confirm, only the women?”
Wen-Li nodded, crossing her arms. “Yes. This is a tactical deployment of camaraderie. Men can fend for themselves tonight.”
Nightingale chuckled, shaking her head. “Understood, Chief. I’ll inform the others.”
As the door slid shut behind her, Wen-Li allowed herself a small smirk. “Maybe this stomach of mine has the right idea after all,” she muttered, grabbing her jacket and preparing for what was sure to be an evening of laughter and well-deserved indulgence.
The events of the abandoned base gnawed at Captain Wen-Liao’s mind like a relentless predator. The bells, the cryptic numbers, and the humanoid entity—all of it hinted at something far beyond the scope of ordinary conflict. His instincts, honed by years of service, told him the answers lay buried in the fractured remnants of the base, waiting to be unearthed.
In the dim light of his quarters, he poured over the reports collected by his squad, cross-referencing them with classified archives from the Federal Army Corporation’s database. Maps of the region were spread across his desk, their surfaces marked with coordinates, troop movements, and anomalies reported by other units.
The fragment retrieved from the entity weighed heavily in his thoughts. He hadn’t seen it since handing it over to Lieutenant Colt for analysis, but its memory lingered, vivid and unsettling. It wasn’t just a piece of debris; it was a message, though its meaning eluded him.
Unable to shake his unease, Wen-Liao made his way to the intelligence archives, a fortified wing of the FAC headquarters where classified data was stored. The room was cold and sterile, illuminated by pale overhead lights that cast long shadows. Rows of monitors lined the walls, each displaying streams of encrypted data and archived footage.
A junior officer manning the terminal looked up as Wen-Liao entered. “Captain, I wasn’t expecting you.”
“I need access to anomaly reports from the Delta Zone and surrounding regions,” Wen-Liao said, his tone brisk but calm.
The officer hesitated. “Sir, those files are restricted. Commander Vance would need to—”
“Commander Vance trusts me to act with discretion,” Wen-Liao interrupted, his sharp gaze freezing the officer in place. “Give me access.”
After a tense pause, the officer nodded, entering a series of commands into the terminal. “Access granted. The files are on screen three.”
Wen-Liao moved to the monitor, his eyes scanning the reports. Each document painted a fragmented picture of unexplained phenomena: bases that had gone dark without warning, patrols reporting cryptic transmissions, and sightings of entities that defied conventional understanding.
One report caught his attention: “Anomalous Presence, Delta Zone Outpost, Case 0916.”
Opening the file, he read about a unit that had encountered a creature similar to the one his squad had faced—cloaked, humanoid, and adorned with bells. The report described its movements as “erratic yet purposeful” and detailed its apparent imperviousness to conventional weaponry until targeted at a critical point.
Wen-Liao left the archives and headed for the laboratory, where Lieutenant Jared Colt was still immersed in the analysis of the fragment. The lab was quiet save for the hum of equipment, the air thick with the scent of chemicals and ozone.
“Lieutenant,” Wen-Liao said as he entered, his voice cutting through the silence.
Colt looked up, his expression tired but focused. “Captain. I was about to send for you. There’s something you need to see.”
Colt gestured to the monitor displaying a magnified image of the fragment. “This isn’t just an inert object. It’s resonating—emitting a low-frequency vibration that’s almost imperceptible. At first, I thought it was ambient interference, but then I realised it’s deliberate.”
“Deliberate?” Wen-Liao asked, stepping closer.
Colt nodded, adjusting his glasses. “Yes. It’s as though the fragment is trying to communicate, but not in a way we understand. The frequency it’s emitting matches part of the encrypted numbers from the abandoned base’s transmission.”
Wen-Liao’s jaw tightened. “So, it’s connected to the broadcast.”
“Not just connected,” Colt replied. “It might be the source. Or at the very least, a relay.”
Wen-Liao left the lab, his thoughts racing. If the fragment and the broadcast were linked, the answers might still be at the abandoned base. With Commander Vance’s tacit approval, he assembled his squad for a return mission, briefing them thoroughly on what lay ahead.
“This isn’t a standard operation,” Wen-Liao told them, his voice steady. “We’re going back to the base. We missed something, and we’re going to find it. Stay sharp. If you see or hear anything unusual, report it immediately.”
The squad nodded, their expressions a mix of determination and unease.
The base was even more foreboding the second time. Fog clung to the ground like a living entity, and the buildings loomed like silent sentinels. The air was heavy with anticipation, every sound amplified in the oppressive quiet.
Wen-Liao and his squad moved cautiously, their weapons raised. The radio transmission was still active, the monotonous chant of numbers echoing faintly through the desolation.
“This place feels worse than before,” Sionola muttered, her voice barely audible.
“Focus,” Wen-Liao said, his eyes scanning the surroundings.
The team reached the command centre, their footsteps stirring the dust of the forgotten outpost. Wen-Liao’s torch illuminated the consoles, now flickering erratically as if responding to their presence.
Dagdan Leesoney moved to the corner of the room, crouching beside a pile of broken equipment. “Captain, over here.”
Wen-Liao approached, his torch revealing a hidden hatch beneath the debris. It was sealed, but faint vibrations emanated from it, the same frequency described by Colt.
“This is it,” Wen-Liao said. “Whatever’s down there, it’s the key.”
Wen-Liao and his squad stood around the sealed hatch, their breaths misting in the cold air. The vibrations emanating from it were faint but insistent, a low-frequency hum that seemed to resonate in their bones. The surrounding fog pressed in closer, as if curious to witness their next move.
“We’re really going down there?” Sionola asked, her voice tinged with unease.
Wen-Liao gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. “Dagdan, get this hatch open. Sionola, Kerin, cover our flanks. Stay sharp.”
Dagdan knelt by the hatch, his tools clinking softly as he worked. The lock yielded with a reluctant hiss, and the hatch swung open, revealing a ladder descending into darkness. The smell that wafted up was acrid and metallic, tinged with a faint sweetness that turned their stomachs.
“One at a time,” Wen-Liao ordered, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. “I’ll go first.”
The ladder creaked under Wen-Liao’s weight as he descended into the unknown. His flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing a narrow corridor lined with corroded walls and cables snaking across the ceiling like veins. The hum grew louder, accompanied by an occasional flicker of dim, bluish light from deeper within.
The rest of the squad followed, their boots clanging against the rungs. They moved in silence, their breaths shallow as they took in their surroundings. The corridor led to a large, circular chamber, its floor littered with fragments of shattered equipment and what appeared to be human remains, partially decomposed and disturbingly arranged in symmetrical patterns.
“What the hell happened here?” Kerin whispered, his voice barely audible.
Wen-Liao crouched by one of the remains, his flashlight illuminating the corpse’s twisted features. Its eyes were missing, and its mouth was frozen in a silent scream.
“It’s like they were… offering themselves to something,” Sionola said, shivering.
At the centre of the chamber stood a massive machine, its design alien and unknowable. It pulsed faintly with light, its surface covered in the same shifting markings as the fragment they had recovered. The vibrations were strongest here, and the sound of the numbers from the transmission seemed to originate from its core.
Dagdan approached cautiously, his rifle trained on the device. “Captain, what is this thing? It looks alive.”
“It’s a transmitter,” Wen-Liao said, his voice low. “But not like anything we’ve ever seen. This might be the source of the broadcast—and the anomaly.”
Before they could examine it further, the hum intensified, and the lights in the chamber began to flicker violently. The machine emitted a low, mournful tone, and the markings on its surface started to glow.
“Something’s activating it,” Wen-Liao barked. “Fall back! Now!”
Back at the Federal Army Corporation headquarters, Lieutenant Jared Colt stood before a room of senior officers, including Commander Eleanor Vance and Sergeant Davis Washington. The fragment was displayed on a holographic screen behind him, its shifting markings magnified for all to see.
“The fragment isn’t just an artifact,” Colt began, his voice steady. “It’s a node. A piece of a larger system that appears to be a combination of organic and synthetic material. It’s emitting a signal—a low-frequency vibration that matches the anomaly reported by Captain Wen-Liao’s squad.”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
Commander Vance narrowed her eyes. “And this signal… what’s its purpose?”
“We’re still decoding it,” Colt admitted. “But its pattern suggests communication. It could be a warning, an instruction, or even a call to something else.”
Davis leaned forward, his expression grim. “A call to what? Reinforcements? More of those things they encountered?”
Colt hesitated. “That’s a possibility. But it’s not just the signal we need to worry about. This fragment—and whatever system it’s part of—isn’t terrestrial. It’s not bound by our understanding of materials or physics.”
“You’re saying it’s alien,” Vance said flatly.
Colt nodded. “Yes, ma’am. And it’s far more advanced than anything we’ve seen.”
Commander Vance turned to Davis. “If this is alien technology, we can’t afford to let it fall into the wrong hands—or worse, let it remain active. I want a containment team ready to deploy immediately. If Captain Wen-Liao and his squad recover more fragments, they’re to be quarantined and analysed in a secure facility.”
“And if the technology is hostile?” Davis asked.
“Then we destroy it,” Vance replied without hesitation. “Whatever it takes.”
“Understood, ma’am,” Davis said, rising to his feet. “I’ll oversee the preparations personally.”
As the officers dispersed, Colt remained behind, his gaze lingering on the shifting fragment. His analytical mind churned with questions, but one thought remained at the forefront: What have we awakened?
In the shadowed elegance of Madam Di-Xian’s office, she stood by the tall windows, gazing out at the rain-slicked cityscape. Her agents’ chatter filtered through the open door, growing louder as they prepared to leave.
“Where are they going?” she asked, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.
Jun, always the quick talker, popped his head in with a cheeky grin. “Dinner, Madam. Yǔlíng’s Rain Spirit seafood place.”
Madam Di-Xian raised an eyebrow. “Seafood? And you’re leaving Agent-90 behind?”
Jun shrugged. “He doesn’t eat. Or at least, not with us. Anyway, Rain Spirit’s got this crab stew that’s so good it could make a grown man cry. They use these bioluminescent algae, and it glows in the dark, right in the bowl. You’ve never seen anything like it.”
Hella, standing nearby, perked up. “Wait, it glows?”
“Like stars on water,” Jun replied dramatically, his hands gesturing as if painting the image in the air. “And the prawns? Fresh as the rain outside. Melt-in-your-mouth stuff. And don’t get me started on their seaweed noodles—they’re like silk.”
Hella’s stomach growled audibly, and her mouth practically watered. “Why didn’t anyone tell me about this place sooner?”
Jun smirked. “Guess you’re lucky I’m around.”
Meanwhile, in the heart of Yǔlíng, Agent-90 stood atop the tallest building, his silhouette blending into the neon-lit night. The city was a symphony of perpetual rain, its droplets catching the glow of bioluminescent trees that lined the streets like silent guardians.
Far below, the annual Rain Festival unfolded, holographic water projections dancing above the crowds, and digital rain gardens glowing with iridescent colours. Tea houses served their molecular creations, blending tradition and innovation in delicate porcelain cups.
Agent-90 adjusted the brim of his black hat, the rain dripping off its edge. His black attire, mask, and gloves made him look like a shadow given form, his icy blue eyes scanning the cityscape with measured precision.
The distant wail of a siren broke the serenity. He tilted his head, listening. The sound wasn’t random—it was deliberate, rhythmic, almost like a signal.
He turned sharply, his gaze narrowing as he pinpointed the source. The siren echoed from the eastern quadrant, where the city’s older districts lay shrouded in darkness. Without hesitation, Agent-90 leapt from the building, vanishing into the rain-soaked streets below, a ghost moving through the veins of Yǔlíng.
The chamber pulsed with a blinding, rhythmic light, each flash accompanied by a low-frequency hum that seemed to rattle their very bones. Wen-Liao barked orders into his radio, his voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the rising panic.
“Fall back! Move!”
The squad scrambled towards the ladder, the air around them growing heavier with each passing second. The alien transmitter’s markings glowed brighter, the patterns shifting into something almost intelligible, as if it were trying to communicate.
Dagdan was the first to reach the ladder, covering their retreat with his rifle. “Captain, whatever this thing’s doing, it’s getting worse!”
Kerin and Sionola followed, their boots clanging against the rungs as they ascended. Wen-Liao was last, his gaze lingering on the pulsating machine. For a brief moment, the patterns on its surface seemed to align, forming an eerie symbol that bored into his mind before fracturing into chaos again.
As the last of the squad climbed out, the chamber erupted into a deafening cacophony. The transmitter emitted a piercing shriek, the vibrations so intense that cracks began forming along the walls. Wen-Liao heaved the hatch shut behind them, the metallic clang echoing like a thunderclap.
“Move!” he ordered, and the squad sprinted back through the corridor, their breaths ragged as the ground beneath them quaked. They emerged into the open air just as the fog thickened, swallowing the base behind them.
“What the hell was that?” Sionola gasped, clutching her knees as she caught her breath.
“Something we’re not equipped to understand,” Wen-Liao replied, his voice grim. “We’re heading back to HQ. Whatever’s down there isn’t staying buried.”
Back at the Federal Army Corporation headquarters, Commander Eleanor Vance was in the operations centre, overseeing preparations for a containment mission. Screens displayed live feeds of troops suiting up in advanced hazard gear, their helmets equipped with atmospheric scanners and neural inhibitors.
Sergeant Davis Washington entered, his expression steely. “Teams are ready, ma’am. We’ve equipped them with EMP devices and high-intensity disruptors, just in case.”
“Good,” Vance said. “Once Wen-Liao’s team arrives, I want a full debrief. Whatever they encountered needs to be neutralised before it spreads.”
“What if it’s not just technology?” Davis asked, his voice low.
Vance turned to him, her gaze unwavering. “Then we adapt. And we survive. That’s what we’ve always done.”
The perpetual rain of Yǔlíng drizzled over the glowing streets, droplets catching the neon light like scattered gemstones. The SDF agents, clad in raincoats, navigated the bustling city with ease. Gonda Subuchi, his sharp eyes scanning the environment, led the way, accompanied by the ever-composed Captain Robert, who wore an air of calm authority despite the city’s chaos.
They approached a seafood restaurant known as Shuǐzhì Chǔ (水之处) – "The Water Place." The establishment was famed for its fusion of bioluminescent ingredients and traditional seafood recipes. The exterior glowed softly with digital projections of swimming koi, inviting patrons into its warm, lively interior.
As they entered, the aroma of fresh seafood and sizzling spices enveloped them. The restaurant was alive with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. A waiter guided them to a long table near a corner window, where rain streaked the glass in shimmering trails.
The group settled in, and as menus were handed out, Alvi tilted her head, eyeing Robert and Gonda. “Captain, what a surprise you came. I thought you’d skip out on something as, uh, relaxed as this.”
Gonda smirked, adjusting his tie. “What can I say? Even warriors need sustenance. And I couldn’t let Robert eat alone—he’d make the table look too grim.”
Robert raised an eyebrow. “I’m right here, you know.”
Hella leaned forward, curious. “What’s good here?”
Gonda gestured dramatically at the menu. “Everything. The bioluminescent crab stew is a marvel. The prawns are buttered to perfection. And the seaweed noodles? They’re like eating silk spun by Poseidon himself.”
Hella’s mouth watered visibly. “I’ll take all of that.”
Hecate rolled her eyes. “Don’t drool on the menu, Hella. It’s embarrassing.”
Meanwhile, Wen-Li led her team—Lan Qian, Demitin, Labibah, Nightingale, Tao-Ren, and Captain Lingaong Xuein—through the glowing streets of Yǔlíng. Their boots splashed lightly in puddles as they passed under the radiant canopy of bioluminescent trees.
“When Chief invited us out, the boys’ reactions were hilarious,” Lingaong Xuein said with a chuckle. “Robert’s face? Priceless. It was as if someone told him he’d been reassigned to kitchen duty.”
Lan Qian smirked. “He does have a flair for dramatic reactions, doesn’t he?”
Wen-Li glanced over her shoulder, her expression calm but amused. “Well, if they can’t handle a little surprise, they’re in the wrong line of work. Let’s just hope they’re not up to anything too ridiculous tonight.”
The group arrived at Shuǐzhì Chǔ, and as they entered, they were greeted by the warm glow of the restaurant’s interior. A waiter led them to a table on the opposite side of the room, and they began scanning the menu.
“What shall we order?” Nightingale asked.
“The prawns,” Lan Qian suggested immediately. “And the bioluminescent crab stew sounds intriguing.”
“I’m going for the seaweed noodles,” Tao-Ren said.
Wen-Li nodded. “A bit of everything, then. Let’s make it worth the outing.”
As their conversation continued, a loud, familiar voice erupted from the other side of the room. Lan Qian froze, her ears tuning in as she turned toward the commotion.
“Farhan?” she whispered incredulously.
Curiosity piqued, Wen-Li gestured for her to investigate. Lan Qian stood and walked toward the noise, her eyes widening when she spotted Farhan, Jun, Roy, Masud, Hella, and Hecate seated with Captain Robert, Gonda, and Alvi.
Lan Qian returned quickly, her expression stunned. “Chief, you’re not going to believe this, but… they’re here. Captain Robert and Gonda. With Farhan and the others.”
Lingaong Xuein raised an eyebrow. “Robert? Impossible. He wouldn’t show up here.”
Lan Qian’s voice rose slightly. “I saw them with my own eyes. And they’re not even drunk. Well, most of them.”
Wen-Li exchanged a look with Nightingale. “Let’s see for ourselves.”
As Wen-Li’s group approached the other table, the atmosphere shifted. Captain Robert, mid-pour with a bottle of wine, froze when he saw Wen-Li. His hand wavered, and instead of pouring into Gonda’s glass, the wine splashed onto Gonda’s lap.
“Robert!” Gonda exclaimed, standing abruptly. “My trousers!”
“C-Chief!” Robert stammered, his face a mixture of shock and mortification.
Jun, already a few drinks in, scoffed as he saw Nightingale. “Well, well. If it isn’t the nightingale herself. Come to sing us a tune?”
Farhan, startled to see Lan Qian, blinked in disbelief. “Lan?”
Lan Qian’s eyes narrowed. “Farhan? What are you doing here?”
Masud leaned back, smirking. “Guess the universe isn’t big enough for us to avoid bumping into each other.”
Hella, mid-chew, froze when she saw Wen-Li. She swallowed hard and set her chopsticks down, trying to avoid eye contact.
Wen-Li folded her arms, her calm gaze scanning the table. “I didn’t imagine you’d be here.”
Jun, raising his glass, smirked. “We could say the same for you, Chief. Honourable occasion, is it?”
Lingaong Xuein looked at Robert. “When did you get here?”
Gonda, now patting his soaked trousers with a napkin, answered for him. “Not long ago. We were just… enjoying the city’s finest cuisine. Isn’t that right, Robert?”
Robert coughed nervously. “Y-Yes. Exactly.”
Wen-Li’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s Agent-90?”
Alvi, calm as ever, replied, “He didn’t come. He’s probably out being mysterious and brooding, as usual.”
“And you are?” Wen-Li asked.
Alvi adjusted her glasses. “Alvi, data analyst of the SDF. I keep these lunatics in check.”
Jun raised his glass again. “She does a terrible job of it.”
The table burst into laughter, and even Wen-Li allowed herself a small smile. Despite the odd circumstances, the evening had taken a pleasantly unexpected turn.
Further the shared table at Shuǐzhì Chǔ was a scene of lively chaos. Plates of steaming seafood filled the space, their tantalising aromas mingling with the hum of conversation.
* Wen-Li: Nibbling delicately on a piece of glowing crab, her posture composed despite the laughter around her.
* Lan Qian: Enthusiastically devouring a plate of prawns, her cheeks flushed from the spicy seasoning.
* Nightingale: Watching with a faint smile, her plate untouched as she observed the antics around her.
* Labibah and Demitin: Quietly eating their seaweed noodles, their calm demeanour contrasting sharply with the rest.
* Captain Lingaong Xuein: Sipping soup, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
On the SDF side:
* Jun: Slurping noodles with exaggerated gusto, laughing loudly at his own jokes.
* Farhan and Masud: Engaged in a spirited debate about the best dish.
* Hella: Carefully dissecting her crab, occasionally stealing glances at Wen-Li.
* Hecate: Picking at her food with mild disinterest.
* Captain Robert: Drunkenly swaying in his seat, his plate barely touched.
* Gonda Subuchi: Eating with meticulous precision, trying to ignore Robert’s antics.
Lingaong Xuein leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Robert, why didn’t you bring Sakim and Daishoji with you? They’re usually glued to your side.”
Robert, visibly drunk, waved his hand dramatically. “Sakim’s too serious! Always patching people up, always with the ‘Don’t drink too much, Captain!’ And Daishoji? That guy never shuts up about tactics. I needed a break!”
Jun burst into laughter, nearly choking on his drink. “So, you ditched them for peace and quiet, and now look at you! Absolutely smashed!”
Robert pointed a finger at Jun, his coordination lacking. “Quiet, you. I’m the Captain. You’re the joker!”
As the night wore on, Jun grinned slyly at Wen-Li. “Chief, have a drink with us! Loosen up a little!”
At first, Wen-Li declined, her calm composure intact. But the persistent encouragement from her team and the SDF agents wore her down. She took a sip of wine, then another. Soon, her cheeks flushed, and her normally sharp eyes softened.
Unexpectedly, she stood, clearing her throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, a song!”
The room fell silent as Wen-Li launched into a surprisingly melodious, if slightly off-key, rendition of a popular folk tune. Her voice grew louder, her enthusiasm overtaking her sobriety. She swayed and twirled, clapping her hands to the beat only she could hear.
Lan Qian and Lingaong Xuein exchanged wide-eyed glances, both stifling laughter. Jun cheered loudly, raising his glass. “Encore, Chief!”
In her drunken state, Wen-Li turned toward the SDF agents, pointing dramatically. “You! Stand up! Dance!”
Jun obliged immediately, spinning awkwardly in place. Farhan tried to pull him down, but Wen-Li intervened, tapping him lightly on the head with her chopsticks. “No sitting during my performance!”
Hella froze mid-bite, staring at Wen-Li with wide eyes. “Is she… drunk?”
“Yes,” Hecate muttered, returning to her food. “Very.”
Nightingale watched the scene unfold with a hand over her mouth, hiding a rare smile.
As the group finally left the restaurant, Wen-Li leaned heavily on Lan Qian for support, still humming her song. Robert stumbled into Gonda, slurring his thanks for “the best seafood of his life.”
Farhan and Lan Qian exchanged awkward glances as they tried to herd the more inebriated members of their group.
Unbeknownst to them, a figure stood in the shadows of a nearby alleyway, watching their movements with icy precision. Luciano Ferro adjusted his black gloves, his piercing gaze fixed on Wen-Li.
The perfect opportunity was approaching.
The factory was a cathedral of decay, its vast interior cloaked in darkness. The air was thick with the scent of rust and something acrid that stung the nose. Agent-90 moved like a shadow, his black-clad form blending seamlessly with the dim surroundings. His sharp blue eyes scanned the space, his senses tuned to the faint chime of the bell echoing faintly in the distance.
As he advanced deeper into the labyrinth of machinery and shattered glass, a figure emerged from the shadows. She stepped forward with slow, deliberate grace, her presence exuding menace.
Garofano Chounmeing. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her eyes, a piercing silver, seemed to glow in the dim light. She wore a flowing coat adorned with metallic accents that shimmered as she moved.
“Agent-90,” she said, her voice soft but cutting. “You’re as predictable as the rain in this city.”
From the shadows, more figures materialised. Ashera, tall and imposing, with eyes that seemed to flicker between light and darkness, her presence amplified by her ability, Eclipsed Veil, which cloaked her movements in illusions of light and shadow.
Syntara, her lithe frame draped in sleek armour, her piercing voice cutting through the air. Her ability, Echoing Nightmare, manifested as a disorienting hum that filled the factory, causing the surroundings to warp and shift.
Blaze, the muscular enforcer, his fiery red hair catching the faint light. His ability, Inferno Surge, was evident in the flickers of flame that danced along his arms.
Finally, Xira, slender and serpentine, her movements as fluid as smoke. Her ability, Toxic Bloom, exuded a faint green mist that hissed faintly as it touched metal, corroding everything it lingered on.
Garofano tilted her head, her voice dripping with condescension. “You should have stayed on your rooftops, spectre. This is our domain.”
Agent-90 said nothing, his only reply a swift motion as he drew his firearm and fired at her without hesitation.
Garofano leapt back, the bullet grazing her shoulder as she narrowed her eyes. “Get him.”
The room erupted into chaos. Blaze charged forward, flames surging from his fists as he swung at Agent-90. The assassin dodged with inhuman precision, countering with a quick strike to Blaze’s jaw that sent him sprawling.
Syntara’s voice cut through the air, her ability twisting the environment. Agent-90’s vision blurred momentarily, the walls seeming to close in. He steadied himself, firing a shot that ricocheted off a pipe, narrowly missing Syntara but forcing her to retreat.
Xira’s green mist spread across the floor, corroding metal and filling the air with a toxic haze. Agent-90 activated a filter in his mask, his movements calculated as he avoided the spreading danger.
Ashera appeared beside him, her form flickering between shadows and light. She slashed at him with a blade that seemed to materialise from the darkness. He blocked it with his forearm, countering with a kick that forced her to vanish back into the shadows.
Despite their combined assault, Agent-90 moved with relentless efficiency. He landed precise blows on each of them, disarming Blaze, injuring Syntara, and sending Xira stumbling with a well-placed strike to her ribs.
Garofano watched, her silver eyes narrowing. She raised her hand, and an aura of energy rippled around her. “Enough. I’ll end this myself.”
But before she could act, Agent-90 hurled a smoke grenade to the ground, the room filling with a dense cloud. Using the cover, he disappeared into the darkness, leaving the Sinners injured and furious.
Outside Shuǐzhì Chǔ, Wen-Li and her group exited the restaurant, laughing as they shielded themselves from the rain. The night was alive with glowing lights and the buzz of the festival.
Unseen in the shadows, Luciano Ferro adjusted the scope on his rifle, his gaze fixed on Wen-Li. Clad in black, he was an invisible predator amidst the city’s chaos. He steadied his breathing, his gloved finger tightening on the trigger.
The shot rang out, shattering the festive atmosphere. The bullet whizzed past Wen-Li, narrowly missing her head.
Jun reacted instantly, tackling her to the ground as the group scattered in panic. “Chief, get down!” he shouted, his voice sharp with urgency.
Ferro cursed under his breath, already moving to a secondary position. He fired again, the bullet grazing Jun’s arm as he shielded Wen-Li.
Lan Qian and Lingaong Xuein drew their weapons, scanning the surrounding rooftops. “There!” Lan Qian shouted, catching a glimpse of Ferro as he darted into the shadows.
Despite their pursuit, Ferro moved with the precision of a ghost, disappearing into the labyrinthine streets of Yǔlíng.
Back at the Federal Army Corporation, Captain Wen-Liao stood before Commander Eleanor Vance and Lieutenant Jared Colt, his expression grim as he detailed the events beneath the hatch.
“The chamber was unlike anything I’ve ever seen,” Wen-Liao said, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. “The machine—if we can call it that—was alive in some way. It responded to our presence, activating as if aware of us.”
Colt leaned forward, his analytical mind racing. “And the symbol you saw before you left?”
“It was… unnatural,” Wen-Liao replied, his brow furrowing. “It wasn’t just a marking. It felt like it was looking back at me.”
Commander Vance nodded, her expression unreadable. “We’ll need to escalate this. The containment team is being deployed immediately, and I want full surveillance of the area. Whatever’s down there, we can’t allow it to reach the surface.”
As Wen-Liao left the briefing, his thoughts were heavy with the implications of what they had uncovered. The echoes of the machine’s hum still resonated in his mind, a haunting reminder of the unknown forces they were now entangled with.
Wen-Li leaned against a nearby wall, her breathing uneven as she processed what had just happened. The others formed a protective circle around her, scanning the surroundings with sharp eyes. Jun, clutching his grazed arm, forced a grin.
“That was close, huh, Chief?” he said, wincing slightly.
“You saved me,” Wen-Li replied, her voice steady despite the chaos. “I won’t forget this.”
Jun waved a hand dismissively. “All in a day’s work. Though I’d prefer fewer bullets next time.”
Lan Qian approached, her weapon still drawn. “The shooter was skilled—too skilled. He vanished before we could get close. This wasn’t random. Someone’s targeting you, Chief.”
Wen-Li straightened, her composure returning. “Then we’ll find out who. I won’t let anyone make my people a target.”
In a dimly lit room in Yǔlíng, Luciano Ferro paced restlessly, his black gloves still damp from the rain. His communicator buzzed, and Gavriel Elazar’s image materialised on the screen. Gavriel’s expression was cold, his sharp features illuminated by the eerie glow of his desk monitor.
“Ferro,” Gavriel began, his voice like a blade sliding from its sheath. “Is it done?”
Ferro hesitated, his jaw tightening. “No. I missed. The target’s alive.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Gavriel’s eyes narrowed, his calm facade cracking to reveal the fury simmering beneath. “Missed? Missed? You’re supposed to be the best, Ferro. Explain yourself.”
“She wasn’t alone,” Ferro replied, his tone clipped. “An agent—Jun, I believe—intervened. He’s fast, skilled. He protected her and gave the others time to react.”
Gavriel’s fist slammed onto the desk, the sound reverberating through the room. “One agent ruined the plan? You were supposed to account for these variables!”
Ferro’s voice remained steady, though his frustration was evident. “I had no intel on this Jun. He wasn’t supposed to be a factor.”
Gavriel leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he forced himself to regain composure. “Jun. Fine. I’ll make him a factor.”
Moments later, Gavriel placed another call. The screen flickered to reveal Kenji, a wiry man with calculating eyes, seated in a room lined with monitors displaying endless streams of data. Kenji, the SCP’s lead intelligence operative, was a master of extracting secrets from even the most secure sources.
“Kenji,” Gavriel said, his voice regaining its calm but carrying an undercurrent of menace. “I have a task for you.”
Kenji straightened, his fingers already dancing over a keyboard. “What do you need, sir?”
“Agent Jun,” Gavriel replied. “Find everything on him. His team, his family, his habits. I want his life in my hands.”
Kenji nodded, a faint smirk curling his lips. “Consider it done. I’ll have his entire existence mapped out before dawn.”
“Good,” Gavriel said, his tone icy. “And make sure you find a way to use it. If Jun is a weakness for them, we’ll exploit it.”
As the call ended, Gavriel leaned back in his chair, his anger smouldering beneath the surface. Ferro’s failure was an inconvenience, but if there was one thing Gavriel excelled at, it was turning obstacles into opportunities.
Back at the SDF hideout, the atmosphere was tense but buzzing with determination. Nightingale was already compiling a report on the assassination attempt, while Alvi cross-referenced surveillance data from Yǔlíng.
Jun sat with Farhan and Masud, his arm freshly bandaged but his mood light. “Well, I didn’t expect to get shot at during dinner, but I suppose it adds spice to the evening.”
Hella, perched nearby, rolled her eyes. “Is everything a joke to you?”
Jun grinned. “Most things, yeah. Keeps the blood pressure low.”
Alvi walked in, her expression unreadable. “The Chief wants us on high alert. Whoever this Ferro is, he won’t stop at one attempt.”
Masud nodded grimly. “Then we’ll be ready next time.”
In a secured briefing room at the Federal Army Corporation, Wen-Liao stood before Commander Eleanor Vance and Lieutenant Jared Colt. The air was heavy with tension as he detailed the events beneath the hatch.
“The machine’s activation was deliberate,” Wen-Liao said, his tone steady but his expression grim. “It responded to our presence, almost as if it recognised us.”
Colt frowned, his mind racing. “Did you observe any additional patterns or symbols before it activated?”
“Yes,” Wen-Liao replied, his voice firm. “A symbol appeared briefly, but it felt more like a message. Something that didn’t just exist—it wanted to be understood.”
Vance leaned forward, her sharp eyes fixed on Wen-Liao. “And the implications?”
Wen-Liao hesitated. “If that machine wasn’t fully active, then we’ve only seen the beginning. Whatever it’s connected to is far larger than one chamber.”
Vance exchanged a glance with Colt, her jaw tightening. “We’ll escalate containment efforts. And Captain, your team will remain on standby. If this spreads, you’ll be our first line of response.”
Wen-Liao nodded. “Understood, Commander.”
As he left the room, the weight of his mission pressed heavily on his shoulders. The symbol, the machine, the sense of something alive within it—it all pointed to a growing threat that no one fully understood.
The rain fell unrelentingly over Yǔlíng as Agent-90 moved through the labyrinthine streets, his figure a phantom amidst the glowing bioluminescent trees and the bustling chaos of the Rain Festival. His assignment, delivered in the cryptic manner he was accustomed to, was deceptively simple: find the source of the disturbances rippling through the city's underworld.
Yǔlíng was no stranger to secrets, but this was different. Entire districts had fallen into disarray. Power outages, unexplained disappearances, and rising violence painted a picture of a city unraveling. The chaos, though seemingly random, was too precise in its execution to be mere chance.
Agent-90’s first stop was an old contact, Luka Zhen, a tech-savvy informant who thrived on the city’s underbelly. Luka’s workshop was hidden beneath a decrepit arcade, the neon lights above flickering like dying stars.
“90,” Luka greeted as the assassin entered, his voice tinged with nervous excitement. “You’re a hard man to find. Or is it that you only show up when trouble’s brewing?”
“Save the pleasantries,” Agent-90 said, his voice low and precise. “What do you know about the chaos in Yǔlíng?”
Luka hesitated, glancing around the dimly lit space as though unseen eyes were watching. “Word is, it’s all connected to someone—or something—called The Conductor. Nobody knows who they are, but they’ve been coordinating these attacks. Sabotaging infrastructure, turning gangs against each other, even hacking the city’s eco-grid.”
“The Conductor,” Agent-90 repeated, his tone devoid of emotion. “And their location?”
Luka shrugged helplessly. “That’s the thing. They don’t operate from one place. They’re always a step ahead, always in the shadows. But…” He reached for a tablet and tapped a few keys. “There’s been chatter about an abandoned eco-tech facility in the Delta Zone. Strange power surges, encrypted signals—things that don’t add up.”
The Delta Zone was a stark contrast to the vibrant heart of Yǔlíng. Its once-thriving eco-tech facilities now lay in ruins, overrun by moss and reclaimed by the bioluminescent flora that defined the city’s landscape.
Agent-90 approached the largest facility, a towering structure whose walls were streaked with rust and glowing vines. The faint hum of machinery resonated from within, an unnatural sound in an otherwise silent expanse.
Inside, the air was thick with humidity and the scent of decay. Broken equipment littered the floors, and the faint glow of forgotten screens illuminated the darkness. Agent-90 moved silently, his sharp eyes scanning every corner for signs of life—or its absence.
As he ventured deeper, Agent-90 discovered a control room. The walls were lined with monitors, each displaying a fractured mosaic of the city’s chaos. Fires burned in some districts, while others showed violent clashes between rival factions.
A voice crackled through the speakers, low and smooth like the rumble of distant thunder.
“Welcome, Agent-90. You’ve come far, but you’ve walked straight into my symphony.”
“The Conductor,” Agent-90 said flatly.
“You catch on quickly,” the voice replied, dripping with mockery. “But you’re too late. The chaos you see is only the prelude. Yǔlíng will fall, and you will watch helplessly as the city drowns in its own despair.”
Agent-90’s eyes narrowed. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“What I want,” The Conductor said, “is liberation. The city clings to its illusions of order, but I will shatter them. This is evolution, Agent-90. And you are standing in the way.”
The monitors flickered, and a countdown appeared. Ten minutes.
“Enjoy the crescendo,” The Conductor said, laughing as the line went dead.
The countdown was tied to a reactor deep within the facility, its energy output spiking dangerously. Agent-90 moved quickly, his precision unmatched as he navigated the facility’s labyrinthine corridors.
Security drones activated, their red lights cutting through the gloom. They converged on his position, firing lasers that scorched the air around him. Agent-90 ducked and weaved, returning fire with deadly accuracy. Each shot dismantled a drone, their shattered remains clattering to the floor.
At the reactor, the sabotage was evident. Power conduits had been rerouted, their cables sparking wildly. Agent-90’s sharp eyes scanned the control panel, his mind racing. The reactor would overload in minutes, leveling not just the facility but a significant portion of Yǔlíng.
Agent-90’s hands moved with mechanical precision as he worked to override the countdown. The Conductor had encrypted the system, but his training and enhancements allowed him to break through.
“Too slow,” The Conductor’s voice taunted, now emanating from the facility’s PA system.
Agent-90 ignored it, his focus unwavering. With seconds to spare, he severed the power conduits and initiated a shutdown. The reactor’s hum died, replaced by an eerie silence.
As Agent-90 left the facility, he found a single monitor still active, displaying a message:
"You’ve silenced the prelude, but the symphony has only begun. Until next time, spectre."
Agent-90 stared at the screen for a moment before vanishing into the night, his mind already calculating his next move.
Back at the Federal Army Corporation, Captain Wen-Liao pored over the data recovered from the alien transmitter beneath the abandoned base. The symbols and patterns continued to elude conventional analysis, but Lieutenant Colt’s insight had proven invaluable.
“The symbols,” Colt said, gesturing to a holographic display, “aren’t just a language. They’re a form of communication designed to interact with machines—and possibly even organic life.”
“They felt alive,” Wen-Liao muttered, recalling the oppressive presence of the transmitter. “Like they were trying to pull something out of me.”
Colt nodded. “It’s possible. The frequency of the vibrations matches those of neural activity. The machine wasn’t just broadcasting—it was probing, looking for a response.”
Commander Vance entered the room, her sharp gaze sweeping over the data. “Captain, Lieutenant, what’s the progress?”
“We’re narrowing it down,” Colt replied. “But there’s one thing we can confirm: the ‘bells’ your team heard weren’t just sound. They were part of the signal, a carrier wave designed to resonate in human consciousness.”
Wen-Liao frowned. “It’s psychological. A way to disorient, confuse, and control.”
“Exactly,” Colt said. “And if the transmitter is only one piece of a larger system, we may be dealing with an entire network designed to subvert human minds.”
As they continued their analysis, an encrypted signal was intercepted—a faint transmission matching the alien patterns. It was originating from a remote mountain range beyond the Delta Zone, an area known for its treacherous terrain and uncharted anomalies.
“It’s the next step,” Wen-Liao said, his voice firm. “Whatever’s out there, we’re going to find it—and stop it before it finds us.”
Commander Vance nodded. “You have the green light. Take a full team, and be prepared for anything.”
The rain in Yǔlíng fell heavier as Agent-90 emerged from the abandoned facility, the neon lights of the city reflecting off the waterlogged streets. The Conductor’s words lingered in his mind: "The symphony has only begun." The enigmatic foe had evaded him, but the sabotage at the Delta Zone provided more than destruction—it had left breadcrumbs, and Agent-90 was determined to follow them.
Returning to his makeshift base—a nondescript room in a high-rise overlooking the city—Agent-90 began decrypting the data he had extracted from the facility. The Conductor had been sloppy, leaving behind fragments of code embedded in the reactor's network.
His enhanced mind worked in tandem with his AI system, Spectre Node, a cutting-edge interface embedded in his neural framework. Strings of data scrolled across his vision as he pieced together the puzzle.
The Conductor’s operations were decentralized, spread across a network of hidden hubs. Each hub acted as a node, coordinating attacks, spreading disinformation, and destabilizing Yǔlíng’s infrastructure. One location stood out: The Skyvault, a derelict skyscraper on the edge of the city.
Agent-90 narrowed his eyes. The Skyvault had been abandoned for years, its upper floors gutted by fire. It was the perfect location for someone who thrived in the shad
The journey to the Skyvault was uneventful, but the building itself loomed like a gravestone against the stormy sky. Agent-90 scaled the structure with practiced ease, his black-clad form disappearing into the rain and mist.
Inside, the building was eerily quiet. The once-thriving offices were now skeletons of their former selves, filled with broken furniture and graffiti-covered walls. As Agent-90 ascended, the atmosphere grew heavier. Flickering lights illuminated the corridors, and faint traces of classical music played from hidden speakers.
The top floor was a stark contrast to the ruin below. A sprawling command centre had been established, its walls lined with monitors displaying live feeds of Yǔlíng’s chaos. In the centre stood a single chair, its occupant shrouded in shadow.
“You’re persistent, spectre,” The Conductor said, rising slowly. A woman stepped into the light, her appearance striking. She was tall, with short platinum hair and piercing green eyes. Her attire was a blend of tactical gear and elegance, reflecting her role as both a strategist and a provocateur.
“You’ve caused quite a mess,” Agent-90 said, his voice calm but cold.
The Conductor smirked. “And you’ve been a thorn in my side. But tell me, Agent-90, do you understand the beauty of chaos? It’s not destruction—it’s transformation.”
Before he could respond, The Conductor activated a series of turrets hidden in the walls. They sprang to life, firing in a synchronized pattern. Agent-90 darted between them, his movements a blur of precision as he disabled each one with calculated strikes.
The Conductor moved to intercept, her combat prowess evident. She wielded a pair of energy blades, their edges glowing faintly in the dim light. The two clashed in a flurry of motion, their movements almost too fast to follow.
“You’re skilled,” The Conductor said, her voice steady despite the exertion. “But you’re fighting a losing battle. This city is mine now.”
Agent-90 parried her strike, his voice even. “Not while I’m still breathing.”
Their battle was relentless, but as reinforcements—drones and automated defenses—closed in, Agent-90 realized he had to retreat. He hurled a smoke grenade, vanishing into the haze as The Conductor cursed behind him.
The Federal Army Corporation’s VTOL transport soared through the darkened skies, slicing through thick clouds as it carried Captain Wen-Liao and his team toward the remote mountain range. The air inside the cabin was tense, the team quietly reviewing mission protocols and equipment. The intercepted signal from the alien transmitter pulsed faintly in their comms, an ominous reminder of what lay ahead.
Lieutenant Colt sat beside Wen-Liao, his holographic tablet displaying a map of the region. “The signal is originating from somewhere within this range,” he said, pointing to a glowing dot on the map. “If the transmitter we found was a relay, this might be the source—or worse, the next link in the chain.”
Wen-Liao nodded, his face grim. “We shut it down, whatever it is. No one else gets caught in this web.”
The team disembarked at a clearing near the base of the mountains. The terrain was rugged, the air sharp with the scent of pine and damp earth. As they began their ascent, the signal grew stronger, its frequency resonating faintly through their equipment.
Hours into their climb, the team came upon an ancient structure carved into the mountainside. Its architecture was alien, with jagged spires and flowing patterns that pulsed faintly with light.
“This is it,” Colt whispered, awe in his voice.
The entrance yawned before them, a dark maw that seemed to breathe cold air. As they stepped inside, the sound of the bells returned, faint and distant at first, then rising in intensity.
The interior was a vast chamber filled with alien machinery. Symbols similar to those from the abandoned base covered the walls, glowing softly. At the centre stood a massive construct, its surface shifting like liquid metal.
Colt moved forward cautiously, his scanner buzzing with activity. “The signal’s coming from this. It’s broadcasting—feeding something.”
Wen-Liao motioned for his team to form a perimeter. “Colt, can you shut it down?”
“I’ll try,” Colt said, connecting his equipment to the construct.
The chamber suddenly trembled, and the symbols on the walls flared brighter. Figures began to materialise—spectral forms similar to those in the previous encounter.
“Contacts!” one of the soldiers shouted, raising their weapon.
“Hold the line!” Wen-Liao ordered.
Back in Yǔlíng, Agent-90 pieced together The Conductor’s network from the data he had extracted. The decentralized hubs were all connected to a central command node, which was mobile and encrypted. His search led him to The Nexus, a hidden underground station beneath Yǔlíng’s tech district.
The Nexus was a sprawling complex of tunnels and server rooms, humming with energy. As Agent-90 infiltrated the station, he encountered resistance: automated drones, armed guards, and even traps designed to slow his progress.
Agent-90 reached the central command room, where The Conductor awaited him. Unlike their previous encounter, she was prepared, flanked by her elite enforcers.
“Impressive, Agent-90,” she said, her voice filled with mock admiration. “You made it this far. But this is where your pursuit ends.”
“You’re out of moves,” Agent-90 replied, his voice steady. “I’ve dismantled your network. The city’s safe.”
The Conductor smirked. “You’re thinking too small. The chaos in Yǔlíng was merely a rehearsal. The real performance begins elsewhere.”
Before he could respond, The Conductor activated a hidden escape route, vanishing into the shadows. Agent-90 engaged her enforcers, dispatching them with calculated efficiency. However, her escape left him with more questions than answers.
As Wen-Liao’s team fought to contain the spectral entities, Colt completed his analysis. “Captain! The construct isn’t just transmitting—it’s a hub for the network. It’s connected to something massive.”
“Then shut it down!” Wen-Liao ordered.
Colt activated a disruption device, and the construct began to collapse, its symbols flickering and fading. The spectral entities vanished, and the bells fell silent.
Back in Yǔlíng, Agent-90 accessed the remaining data from The Conductor’s network, uncovering fragments that pointed to the same mountain range. The network wasn’t just local—it spanned the globe, tied to the alien machines.
Agent-90’s investigation and Wen-Liao’s mission revealed a chilling truth: the chaos in Yǔlíng and the Cries of the Bells were part of a larger plan—one that connected humanity to an unknown force beyond comprehension.