"The second phase of the war has begun."

Ayla reported that the first being to reach the summit had received a silver-blue card inscribed with English lettering. It followed the instructions perfectly.

This was the first Proxima Centauri being to embrace humanity, but certainly not the last.

The Tower's trials weren't designed to select the "strong" but the "weak."

Only the weak would submit, only the weak would obey.

Ayla estimated a 25% success rate.

"The final test is to teach these beings how to conceal themselves and ensure the survival of their civilization."

"It's proving more difficult than anticipated. The current success rate is around 6%."

"This civilization has successfully integrated the chips. When unfavorable information is detected, the chips will automatically modify their thoughts."

"This is a small victory for them in this second phase."

"The true battle will take place after their return."

Luna observed on the screen as the "re-educated" beings exited the tower. They were indistinguishable from their compatriots, equally confused and unaware of what had transpired.

"Perhaps we've been eliminated!"

One being transmitted this message, causing disappointment among the others.

Each had hoped to be chosen.

Reality, however, revealed their ordinariness.

One by one, they boarded ships and returned to their civilization.

But...

Warships intercepted them.

"What do you think you're doing?"

The recently disappointed creatures were in no mood for pleasantries.

The soldiers on the warships, however, were equally unyielding.

They had received orders to detain all those who had entered the tower, subjecting them to scrutiny, extended observation, and even mental examinations if necessary.

Anyone attempting to escape would be destroyed.

Preventing entry was one thing; preventing their return was quite another.

By controlling their return, they could limit the number of individuals potentially causing chaos.

The leaders could then simply announce that those who reached the summit had been transformed, potentially even using this to control the population's expectations.

"Prevent anyone who left the tower from returning to the planet."

If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

"We cannot determine if any of them are agents of the advanced civilization, nor can we determine if they underwent any form of mind control."

"Based on our intelligence, those who exited the tower had their memories erased within the tower."

"Was it as we suspected?"

"Memory erasure was the only way to ensure deception."

"Anyone exhibiting unusual behavior must be interrogated thoroughly. Better to kill a few innocent than let one get away."

After about ten days.

Over 3800 individuals were deemed to be potentially sympathetic to the advanced civilization—approximately one-fifth of those who returned from the tower.

"What should we do?"

"We can't detain this many."

This was a number the leaders hadn't anticipated.

"Execute them all?"

"Exposure could lead to our own destruction!"

"Apply pressure!"

"That might work in the short term, but eventually, conspiracy theories will spread throughout the planet."

"How about erasing their memories?"

"That's a good idea. If we erase their memories, it'll be as if they never entered the tower."

"But we can't be certain the advanced civilization doesn't have other methods of infiltration."

"We'll postpone memory erasure and prioritize relocating the inhabitants of the third planet (Proxima Centauri c)."

"We can't indefinitely detain them."

"We could announce that the tower has many levels, requiring a long stay. That isn't technically a lie; they did spend a considerable time in a state of suspended animation."

"..."

The leaders agreed upon a plan.

Those released would be closely monitored and restricted. Releasing some would also reassure the population.

Their main concern was that while they could prevent some from leaving the planet, the flow of individuals to the tower continued unabated.

Hundreds of ships arrived daily, adding to their workload.

"It seems no one has reached the tower's summit."

"Perhaps some have, but they are concealed, patiently waiting like hunters."

The entire civilization was on edge.

And time, seizing the opportunity, slipped away.

...

Fifty years had passed since the first group exited the tower.

For the inhabitants of Proxima Centauri b, that was nearly a lifetime.

The first group, whose memories had been erased, showed no unusual behavior. They interacted normally, lived ordinary lives; some even aged and died.

Nothing happened.

The second group, those who had entered the tower a second time and showed no signs of allegiance to the advanced civilization, similarly exhibited no unusual behavior.

The third group, those who had initially shown signs of allegiance but had their memories erased, also remained unremarkable.

The fourth, fifth groups... In total, 140,000 individuals were monitored. For fifty years, they showed no unusual behavior. Some who hadn't even entered the tower were still clamoring for the arrival of the advanced civilization.

"Could we be wrong?"

"Is that tower truly unconquerable?"

"No. We cannot afford to miss even one. Everyone who entered the tower must be monitored until their death."

"..."

This was interstellar warfare. Fifty years was a long time for an individual, but for a civilization, it was just a fleeting moment.

Luna had already entered a long period of hibernation.

She had set a timer for 1000 years.

The Multi-eyed planet would take 3600 years to reach Proxima Centauri, so there was no rush. She could simply wait.

Time, for her as an individual, was inconsequential. Hibernation wasn't strictly necessary; she could easily sleep for millions of years in a hibernation pod.

She believed time could heal all things.

Including the distrust between civilizations.

Of course, she didn't rely solely on the other civilization's complacency.

In reality, the second phase of the plan had already begun with the first group. The tower's purpose wasn't to implant memories or alter neural pathways.

It was to leave an imprint at the cellular level.

Like a swordsman who has practiced 100,000 times. When he grips his sword, he doesn't need to think; he simply acts.

Muscles have memory; cells have memory.

The memories implanted at the cellular level would persist even after memory erasure. These beings would act according to these ingrained patterns, even without consciously recalling their experiences within the tower.

The probability of this was low.

But it was worth the wait.