"So, it’s scorpions all the time—day and night?" Alonso sighed as he finished pushing through the broken carcass into its brain.
> Stage 1 - 1.812%
"Well, the sun’s not completely down yet. Too early to tell."
Alonso pulled his bloodied arm back, pieces of brain tissue clinging to it. After shaking it, he went to gather the metal scraps to use as ammunition for his sling.
“By the way, do you reckon scorpion meat is edible? And what about the poison? Do they have venom in the sting?”
“Be my guest.”
"You know what? I might as well take some meat back and check the tail. I mean, the venom, if they have it, should be there, right?"
“As godly as my intellect is, knowing the anatomy of alien, eyeless, giant scorpions isn’t part of my vast knowledge.”
Huh.
Alonso's instincts flared. Something shot through the air, almost soundless—just a faint whistle as it sliced toward him. His EM Domain barely registered the incoming threat, but it was enough. Alonso's body moved on its own, muscles tensing as he gripped his sword and slashed upward to his side.
The blade met the creature mid-flight, but the speed and power behind its strike almost overwhelmed him. Alonso felt the shockwave in his arms as his sword connected with the attacker. The impact barely countered the creature’s momentum, and the sharp edge still grazed his shoulder, cutting deep through his clothing and into his skin.
A sharp sting hit him, and blood began to trickle down his arm. The force of the strike knocked him off balance for a split second, his feet digging into the sand as he staggered to regain control. The black shape shot past him, hitting the ground with a heavy thud.
Alonso spun, eyes scanning for his attacker. It wasn’t a large creature—no bigger than a falcon. Its sleek black body was built for speed, with razor-sharp talons and wings that cut through the air like blades. But now, one of those wings lay mangled and severed, flapping weakly in the sand.
Despite its small size, the power behind its attack was no joke. The sheer velocity of its descent had been enough to nearly take him out. Even as it flailed on the ground, Alonso could see the deadly precision in the way it moved, its sharp beak snapping at the air in a final attempt to fight.
Alonso didn’t hesitate. The bird was grounded, its flight disabled, but he wasn’t about to let it strike again. He rushed forward, his sword slicing downward with calculated precision. The blade cut cleanly through the bird’s neck, ending the threat in a single stroke.
Silence returned, broken only by Alonso’s heavy breathing and the faint rustle of the desert wind. He stood over the fallen creature, blood still dripping from the cut on his shoulder, watching as the black feathers settled in the sand.
Fast... way too fast.
He glanced at his shoulder, wincing slightly as he wiped the blood with his hand. The cut wasn’t deep, but it was a reminder of just how close that encounter had been. Even his Simulation hadn’t been fast enough to calculate the best response—only his instincts and EM Domain had picked it up in time.
Alonso knelt down, examining the bird's small, sleek body. Its size was deceptive, barely larger than a falcon, yet its speed and the momentum behind its dive had nearly overwhelmed him. He stared at its lifeless form, the severed wing and sharp beak still gleaming in the fading desert light.
He made a precise cut in its head and, sure enough, found an orb nestled within.
> Stage 1 - 1.832%
“0.020%? Less than the scorpions but twice as much as the worms.”
Standing up quickly, Alonso gripped his sword tighter. These birds were no joke. Any body gains kinetic energy as a square of its velocity, and this bird, in its descent, had easily been traveling over 100 m/s, or 360 km/h. The sheer force behind that kind of speed made every strike lethal, both due to the momentum and the minimal time for reaction.
Absolute speed. That was the greatest weakness of his current fighting style. It rendered his most valuable asset, Simulation, nearly worthless. But… how to counter it?
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Unfortunately, there was no time to think. No time to catch a break. He sensed it—another faint disturbance rippling through the air.
Another one.
Without a proper countermeasure, all he could do was slash as fast as he could. He knew a simple hide shield wouldn’t do much against the penetration power of the bird’s razor-sharp metallic beak, coming at nearly 400 km/h. The velocity was too great; any mistake could be fatal.
Clang!
The sound reverberated in his ears as his sword connected with the falcon-like bird’s beak. Thankfully, his experience from the last encounter had allowed him to adjust the strike just enough, altering the bird’s trajectory before it could reach him. The blade deflected the bird’s attack, and for the first time, no blood flowed. But his arms trembled violently from the force of the impact, his muscles absorbing the brunt of the momentum.
This is not going well.
Alonso's breath was shallow, but he couldn’t afford to rest. He walked quickly toward the downed bird, eyes scanning its form. It had died upon impact—the sword had severed half its neck in the chaotic strike. The body lay still, its black feathers rustling lightly in the desert wind.
Kneeling down, Alonso cut into its head and retrieved the orb.
> Stage 1 - 1.850%
He quickly made up his mind and rushed to his backpack. Slinging it over his shoulder, Alonso began running back.
“I thought you were having a good time. Leaving the party so early? What happened?”
“Fuck off, Houston. If two of those falcons attack at once, I’m dead. And speaking of the devil…”
He spun on his foot, slashing at the incoming bird. But this time, the angle wasn’t perfect. Its talons managed to scrape his waist as it flew past him.
“Motherfuck—”
Alonso gritted his teeth, the sting sharp and immediate. Without hesitation, he rushed toward the downed creature and stomped on its head, crushing it with a satisfying crack. He retrieved the orb, wiping blood from his waist as he resumed his trek back toward the jungle.
> Stage 1 - 1.866%
It was going to be a long 120 kilometers.
image [https://i.imgur.com/EPU265m.png]
> August 7, 2024 - Geneva, Switzerland
Elena returned to her office, having just endured a series of vexing conversations with the bureaucrats lingering outside her door. The memory of how they had once looked at her after she went off-script during that August 2nd address was still vivid. Back then, their eyes had brimmed with caution and skepticism. Now, they smiled and fawned over her, acting as if she were the president of the world. Hypocrisy in its purest form.
She locked the door behind her and collapsed into her chair. These past few days hadn’t just been long; they had been utterly surreal.
How much were those shadowy figures—these puppeteers behind the scenes—truly hiding? She recalled the casual nature of their correspondence, emails that arrived as though the weight of the world could be discussed over coffee. But the content? Disturbing, to say the least. Take the latest one, for instance:
Hi Elena,
I hope you’ve been enjoying the spotlight lately! Your presence has been remarkable, by the way. Now, about tomorrow’s speech—let them know we plan to distribute the helmets I mentioned earlier. It’s a two-year rollout to cover 60% of the target population, ages 20-40. So yeah, keep that in mind along with everything else we discussed.
Best wishes,
The Men Behind the Curtain
And even then, the email somehow had no address. No sender, no way to trace it. She couldn’t even reply if she wanted to. How were the details meant to be clarified? How was she supposed to present the information? What about a detailed script? Nothing. Just these casual, cryptic emails, leaving everything up to her. She was expected to prepare her own speeches on matters she barely understood, and she couldn’t even discuss them with anyone. Why? Because she had no idea these helmets even existed two days ago!
And now, apparently, 'specialized industries' were popping up out of nowhere. Even major companies like Maple, Sungsam, Beta, and Glimmer were jumping in, claiming they’d been working on it all along in secret. Sure, as if that wasn’t the most convenient excuse ever.
Elena spun in her chair, staring at the ceiling.
And then the massive rollout in two years! More than one billion of these high-tech helmets in just two years! What about their distribution, the training, adaptation, the cost? But, according to the plan, the default version of these helmets would be free of charge for anyone in the age range of 20-40. Free! It was absurd. Sure, there would be premium versions with hefty price tags, but that was a drop in the ocean compared to the overall investment.
She rubbed her temples, thinking about the logistics. The scale of it all was mind-boggling—coordinating with countries, managing global supply chains, ensuring compliance. And then there was the looming question of why the secrecy until now? Sure, The Tower had forced them to bring everything out into the open to survive, but why keep such technology hidden in the first place? Why not release it sooner and dominate the market, just like smartphones or AI? It didn’t add up.
But that wasn’t even the most unsettling part. The speed with which these “specialized industries” had responded—Maple, Sungsam, Beta, Glimmer—all acting like this was a normal development. Like they had just been sitting on this technology, waiting for the right moment. Elena wasn’t naive. She knew how these things worked, and there was no way they had developed this level of tech overnight.
The deeper she dug, the more questions she had. And the fewer answers she was likely to get.
Exhaling deeply, she clicked on her computer, bringing up her screen. She navigated through a maze of security protocols and encrypted files before logging into her ASCENT account.