Grains of sand are picked up in large patches and blown to drift across the expansive plains and dunes. Some of that sand is caught against a wall colored the same golden shade, yet while it has that same grainy texturing, it also has a metallic tint.

That wall is only a part of the exterior of a huge structure with sharp ridges and corners, standing in place against the breeze without wavering.

Below the black night sky, the great golden structure composed of a network of rectangular prisms stands as the heart of the facility, surrounded by other structures albeit smaller such as tall towers and long bunkers, all built with rectangular shapes for the most part; the bunkers being a series of cubes placed along a strip.

Populated, there are crowds of individuals standing around and patrolling the area bordered by dunes, although they’d hardly be distinguishable if it weren’t for their movements as they’re the exact same color of the sand. Some stand by the bunker strip, others by the tower, with most by the core building.

Still, even with all those people, little noise is produced, rather the desert is largely silent. So much so the breeze is audible, the stronghold cloaks itself even in what may at first glance seem to be a flat biome. But even then, since the conception of the stronghold, not one siege had been made against it, in fact it was regarded as the best base, leading it to also pioneer much of the manufacturing and storage.

One of if not the most paramount storage units resides in that central building, sized appropriately as a warehouse, dimly lit and crammed with metal racks and containers in aisles and squares. The room’s interior walls and floor are industrial gray, jaded without the shine that a metal material would otherwise emit.

Crates house arrays of cylindrical missile tanks tightly packed together, and tables hold numerous cone-shaped warheads, snuggly fit the wavy design of the surface which separates all the warheads from one another. More than handheld weaponry, greater devices of war appear to be being kept in the facility, dangerous devices.

Among those lethal weapons are individuals colorized with the golden shade of sand, wearing their fully covering fiber woven bodysuits. They patrol the storage room with the masks resembling human faces, although they do not initially have weapons on their hands unlike their fellow guards patrolling the outside.

One of those individuals stands in front of a closed door, indicated by a darker shade of gray, his suit sporting the artificial grain to better disguise itself as sand. He glances around the room, which is only vaguely visible due to the lackluster lighting, the only sounds to entertain him being the gentle footsteps of his comrades.

The guard lets out a soft sigh, and speaking in a familiar voice, he examines, “It’s only been about half an hour since the shift started, damn.”

A fellow guard standing on the far right side of the room turns towards the complaining guard, responding with a deep African accent, “Hey, what’s the crying for? You have probably the best or at least one of the best stations here, you have no reason to make a fuss over it.”

The first guard turns towards the responder and lowers his head in shame after being scolded. He then raises his head to justify, “Well, it’s just more empty here without the breeze or anything, and there’s a lot less people around. It’s kinda nice outside usually, at least during the night.”

The fellow guard shakes his head before disagreeing, “It’s nicer here with the conditioning, and you don’t need to worry about the sand; I don’t like sand. Let me guess, this must be your first time being in an indoors station, isn’t it? What’s your name?”

The first guard stretches his back and answers, “Reggie, and you’d be right, I was moved here the other day. I want to call it a promotion, but the supervisor might’ve also just gotten tired of me. I know this station is a lot more important, sorry for whining….”

The fellow guard nods his head in understanding now that he recognizes the situation his comrade is in. He tilts his head and calmly assures, “Well, you’ll get used to it here. Trust me, it won’t be a full week before you wish you didn’t need to go outside. And besides, it’s magnitudes safer in here anyways.”

Reggie sighs softly and nods his head, turning to face forwards before casually remarking, “Eh, not like it’s really unsafe anywhere else here, so it doesn’t make much of a difference. But thanks.”

Moments later, the dim lights flicker a couple times, pulling Reggie’s attention to the ceiling as the most minor of disturbances were infinitely more entertaining to him than what he currently was given to protect. After the lights restabilize, he sighs in disappointment, lowering his head back down knowing he’d likely be in for hours of bland watching.

Upon lowering his head however, he notices that far on the other side of the room, which is hardly visible due to the poor lighting, a pair of parallelogram lamps in the place and size of human eyes radiate an azureus glow in the black darkness.

Staggering back from the heart-spiking sight, Reggie begins breathing heavily, shaking his head in disbelief. The lights begin to start flickering again as the lamps gradually enlarge, and a set of footsteps gradually becomes louder from the direction of the light.

Reggie takes another step back, his heart beating out of his chest as the lamps move closer, and the footsteps get louder, every step acting as a heartbeat: a calm, calculated heartbeat. One without fear. One with control.

Following his first instinct, Reggie turns to the right where his fellow guard was earlier, shakely reporting, “Hey uh, I think we have a probl-,” before his eyes set on the guard, who’s laying on the floor collapsed.

The ally is on his back with his head tilted sideways, as though he was pushed off his feet. He doesn’t make a sound, in fact it’s hard to tell from Reggie’s position if he’s even breathing. What is crystal clear to Reggie however is that he is now alone.

Reggie turns back ahead of himself, haunted by a sense of isolating dread. Only furthering his fears, he watches as the lamps sharpen, and a silhouette forms within the darkness, the silhouette of a man with both lamps over his eyes. The silhouette marches forward casually, unconcerned, for there are no more threats to him.

The last man standing, Reggie raises his right hand, aiming it at the silhouette as he grips his elbow with his left hand to stabilize it. A construct materializes over his hand, a long rifle-shaped device painted in the same golden camouflage.

The firearm has a medium-sized barrel and tall yet slim body, resembling a close quarters firearm. The barrel is aimed right at the silhouette, although it wavers unsteadily as Reggie struggles to contain himself.

Out from the shadows, the azureus eyes reveal themselves to be part of a black mask with a carbon fiber texture all under a black hood. From each goggle, a glowing streak extends upwards originating from the central diagonal line up into the invisible void beneath the hood, and another streak extends downwards originating from the far diagonal line down to the bottom of the mask, which glistens like unholy tears.

The hood is connected to a black leather jacket with silver linings down the sleeves and ribs. The being also has black pants with a pair of gunmetal gray streaks down both of his legs, leading to his silver shoes with a black streak down the middle and others protruding in a fashion mimicking laces.

The being marches forward, his arms by his side, not even reactive to Reggie’s arming. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t change pace, he just keeps moving forwards, down the center of the heavily dangerous storage room. Every couple steps he takes, Reggie backtracks, as even though he’s the one armed, it’s as if he’s the defenseless victim.

Reggie’s back bumps against the door, still struggling to stabilize his arm as the being marches forward. He then gulps, and in a shaky shout, he threatens, “Take another step, and I’ll set the alarms! I’ll do it, and you’ll have everyone coming for you! There’s a lot of guys here with big guns, you don’t want to mess with us! Don’t do it!”

The being takes another step, and another, not changing pace.

Reggie sighs, having no other choice. He places his left hand on his ear, and while keeping it there, he reports, “This is Reggie, there’s a breach in B6! I repeat, there is a breach in B6! I need backup, a lot of it! Come quick!”

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After making his declaration, he waits on a response. However, rather than hearing a voice, he instead receives a loud static sound. His breathing loudens, and he exhorts with terror, “Hello?? Is anyone there? Can anyone read me? If you can, please respond! Or send reinforcements! Hello??”

However, the only response he’s given is more static. He is not only physically isolated, but isolated on every field. He is definitively alone. All he can do is stand helplessly.

At last, the being comes to a stop, standing in the center of the room. Reggie lowers his left arm, perplexed by the sudden halt of movement, his heart still racing as it’s all he can hear.

The being then extends both of his arms to the side, standing in the center of the tables. From both hands, a myriad of projections of blue cables begin firing out, each of them sticking to one of the cone-shaped warheads. More cables fire out, establishing a stable link between the being and the destructive devices, until all of the warheads are linked to him.

As Reggie stands in place, he watches in silence as the being then begins levitating off the ground, slowly ascending into the sky. After ascending several feet, the silence is finally shattered.

A flash of blue light overwhelms the being’s body, and a broad beam of energy erupts from him like a cone, which fires straight into the ceiling. That single eruption of energy entirely incinerates the metal ceiling of the room, revealing the black sky above.

As the being climbs higher, the tension on the cables reaches its threshold, and all of the warheads slowly get pulled upwards, being carried up into the sky. At once, the entire stronghold’s supply of warheads is lifted into the sky by the being, who exits the room, continuing to tower the facility as the warheads loom below.

Now blazing in terror, Reggie slams his elbow into the door behind him, causing it to dematerialize. He then sprints out of the room panting, having been unable to fire a single shot at the intruder, and now knowing exactly what was happening.

Up in the sky, the being rises, his arms extended out, carrying the umbrella of warheads. His head tilts down, watching the stronghold below as red lights begin flashing from the watchtowers, and a roaring siren begins playing nonstop. Guards move rapidly in groups as chaos ensues, although the being knows already that they wouldn’t shoot.

Down on the ground, hordes of guards in sandy armor come together, gazing up at the umbrella in the sky. Large doors dematerialize in the main building, releasing masses of guards who join to view the terrifying sight. The alarm continues to blare as guards leave their cubicle barracks, tilting their heads up at the sky.

Among the guards is the commander, who stares at the sky in silence, lost for words. That is until one of the guards approaches her before hastily requesting, “Ma’am, permission to fire on the intruder?”

The commander tsks in pain before turning to the guard who asked, and apprehensively denying, “We can’t.”

The guard shakes his head and stiffens up in shock before following up, “Wait, why? Commander, this is him, isn’t it? We need to take him out!”

Sighing in acknowledgement of defeat, the commander explains, “Look up there, he shielded himself with our own T8 warheads, seems like all of them. Even though that means we could probably take him more easily, that also means that even trying to get a shot on him means we risk losing our entire incendiary supply. We can’t risk that.”

Flooded in fear, the guard holds out his hands and argues, “But ma’am, we might lose it anyways!”

Drowned in dread, the commander lowers her head and admits, “I know…I’m sorry…I can’t lose the arsenal. All of our communications are jammed, even the towers’, and there aren’t any scheduled shipments today. I…don’t know what we can do.”

Now instilled with the same hopelessness, the guard can only raise his head, staring up into the sky as his one attempt to save face was lost.

High up in the sky, the being continues to gain altitude, not moving his arms as he watches the carnage below. The stronghold becomes smaller to his perception as the crowds are nothing more than dots, for he was above them all.

On his command, on the side of all the warheads a small red dot illuminates, indicating activation on impact. With every activation, a small whoosh is played as confirmation, which culminates in a loud roar from the mass collection of warheads.

Raging is the wind in the black night sky as the being hovers far above the facility, his arms extended with eleventy cables projecting off his hand gripping the warheads.

At once, all the cables vanish.

In the one swift move, all of the warheads are no longer held, and instead begin plummeting down to the Earth. All lit red, they accelerate downwards, dive down onto the stronghold below.

Down on the ground, the guards sprint towards the edge of the stronghold, screams and cries mixed with the sirens. Countless guards run for their lives as some trample over one another, tripping and bringing more comrades down with them as the hail of warheads rain down on them in the dark sky.

One of the guards trips on the ground, instinctively reaching his hand out and screaming as loud as he can as the warheads drop down on the center of the facility, and a massive orange eruption emerges in a single moment.

From above in the sky, the being watches as the orange ignitions come one after another, consuming the base. The dunes rumble as detonation after detonation crumbles the base, releasing thunderous roars that can be felt even from the altitude of the being.

However, the night is still young, and the mission is far from over. Watching down on the flames of ruin, the being’s entire body flashes blue before vanishing entirely into the night, gone in a second.

Far from the lifeless bland desert lies a fruitful rich forest with dark green leaves that rustle in the breeze. The bright moon shines down, bringing beautiful light to the landscape of the vast forest, thriving in vegetation.

Deep in the forest is a pocket without trees, where the ground can receive more moonshine than the rest of the covered forest. In that spot resides a large facility composed of a network of rectangular prisms similar to the previous one, although this one does not camouflage itself, but rather is revealingly silver.

There too are barracks made of long strips of cubes, as well as guardtowers, as the overall structure is not far from the previous stronghold, only largely differing externally in the lack of disguise. Standing around the barracks as well seem to be crowds of guards, patrolling the luscious plains surrounded by the comforting forest.

Those guards are dressed in black bodysuits with orange streaks down the body that zigzag similar to a tree branch, the same uniform as Alexander and the other Exhumans encountered previously. However, there are far more guards than the previous squad, and some of the barracks have open sides which reveal other uniformed guards inside.

Blanked with the black night sky, the stronghold is largely silent and serene, as most guards silently glance at their surroundings, but they don’t appear too concerned. There is no reason to anyways, beyond quelled suspicions there has never been an invasion triggering anxiety. It is just another peaceful night, and among the moon are other planetary bodies in the night sky with blue bodies and green segments, sitting amongst the stars.

A few of the guards turn around to face the core facility and raise their heads, with some patting their allies in curiosity.

In the distance, a group of five figures in the same black and orange uniforms stand by the trees on the far edge of the stronghold, all facing various directions as they relax, having just returned from their patrol routine. One of them glances towards the facility, to which their head sticks in place. They then raise their head slightly as their eyes widen and sink, and their jaw slowly drops in awe. He blinks a few times before staggering backwards, tapping the shoulder of one of their squadmates, who’s focused on the trees behind.

The awed man hesitantly apprises, “Hey uh, uh, Alexander? What’s that?”

Indeed, turning his head with an irritated sigh, Alexander demands “What is it Rodge?” as he moves his gaze to where his ally is facing. However, immediately upon facing the same direction, his expression morphs to one of shock as his jaw drops too, and he staggers backwards.

The other three men part of the group turn their attention towards the base, tempted by the discussion. They all dawn the same expressions after capturing the sight that had captivated the other two, slowly stepping backwards.

Far in front of the group over the main building of their fortress, an entity appears stationary in the air high up above the roof. The entity has the figure of a human, standing on air with both of its hands crossed over its chest.

Alexander peers closer as he tries to get a clearer image of the figure, taking a step forward while his allies continue to backtrack.

In a sudden movement, the figure thrashes both of their arms outwards. At that exact time, a massive spherical wave of pitch black darkness discharges from the body, expanding rapidly. The growing black sphere consumes the facility a second after being released, quickly swelling up as it then begins consuming the guards standing by the base, all staring at it in awe, unable to react.

Frozen in petrification, Alexander stays in place with wide eyes as his comrades jump and begin stepping back. Rodge suddenly grips Alexander’s upper arm, pulling him back while cautioning, “Hey boss, we should move! Boss!”

However, Alexander’s attention is far from himself, as those words aren’t so much as received. His eyes remain on the growing black globe, his defeat accepted without even conjuring a single oppositional thought. All of it happened too fast.

He simply stands in place, resisting the tugs, as the immense black wave devours him and his subsequent allies at once.

Darkness consumes the base and all within it in the matter of seconds, the considerable black orb visible from afar as it expands above the level of the trees, the blast without bound as it decimates all its targets in one single swoop.