The air in the base felt frozen, thick with tension. Li Chuan sat in the core conference room, his fingers flying across the keyboard, eyes locked on the streaming data on the screen. Cold light reflected in his pupils as his breath quickened, veins bulging on the back of his hands.

“It’s almost ready,” Li Chuan muttered, sweat trickling down his brow, but he had no time to wipe it away.

Suddenly, the alarm lights flickered, red beams flashing against the walls.

“Something’s happening outside,” He Ling snapped her head up, her brows furrowed.

Li Chuan’s fingers froze for an instant, then immediately resumed pounding the keyboard with urgency, as if every second counted. A soft “beep” broke the silence, and a locked video file appeared in the center of the screen. He stopped typing, holding his breath.

“It’s finally decrypted,” Li Chuan whispered, his heartbeat racing faster.

On the screen, a line of text suddenly appeared—“Lunar Base.”

Li Chuan’s eyes narrowed, his breath catching. “They’re really there...”

He Ling leaned closer, her voice strained with suppressed worry. “Tongxu Bureau… what are they experimenting with on the moon?”

The room fell silent, every nerve in the room pulled taut. The name alone carried a weight that no one dared to ignore.

From behind, Su Na’s voice, tinged with rare anxiety, broke the tension. “So, these are their experiment records?”

The video feed cut to a stark, desolate view of the lunar surface. The base loomed in the pale light, its metallic sheen gleaming with cold menace, as if it concealed dangers in the silence.

The camera shifted to the core of the base, where a crystal floated in a magnetic field, glowing with an eerie green light. It rotated slowly, sending ripples of energy through the air, accompanied by a piercing hum.

The hum grew louder, and the green light intensified, swelling as if building up some force beyond human understanding. The base trembled in response.

“Energy fluctuation is out of control!” A scientist’s voice broke in, his face pale as he frantically typed corrective commands, but the data danced wildly on the screen, like a beast untethered.

External sensors showed a sharp rise in temperature. Tension hung heavy in the air, sweat dampening the scientists’ protective suits as they exchanged anxious glances.

“We need to stop this now!” one scientist shouted, his voice shaky.

The supervisor at the control panel cast him a cold glance. “Stop? Do you know what failure means? The higher-ups won’t allow it.”

The device controlling the magnetic field emitted a sharp grinding noise, becoming unstable.

At that moment, in the corner of the room, a young scientist noticed a strange string of symbols flash through the data stream. The symbols looked unfamiliar yet ancient, as if part of some language or forgotten markings.

His brow furrowed as his mind raced through memories. Those symbols… impossible. A chill ran through him as he realized they closely resembled the ancient imprints he had seen in the ruins of an old civilization.

Before he could investigate further, the screen flickered violently, the data descending into chaos. The symbols vanished in the confusion. His face turned pale as he muttered, “This… shouldn’t exist…”

Suddenly, the crystal flared with a blinding green light. Energy readings shot up, the needle dangerously close to the red zone. The scientists exchanged panicked looks.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“The system’s losing control!” someone shouted, their hands flying across the console, attempting a final repair.

The magnetic field shuddered more violently, green arcs of electricity crackling across the metal surfaces. The noise in the lab became unbearable as the situation spiraled into collapse. One scientist rushed to the control terminal, desperately keying in commands. “The system’s not responding!”

Despite their frantic efforts, the energy levels continued to spike. The light from the crystal intensified, and everyone could feel the looming catastrophe.

“Hurry! Reduce the magnetic field’s power!” shouted one of the scientists, but the light had already grown too large to contain. Someone buried their head in their hands, murmuring, “It’s over... we’re done for.”

The magnetic field grew unstable, the equipment lights flickering erratically. The alarm system blared relentlessly as the crystal's green light flared again, this time bursting like an uncontrollable wave of energy, ripping through the darkness. The energy hit its critical point. Smoke began to rise from the machines.

“It’s out of control!” Xiao Bai’s voice, trembling with fear, shattered the fragile calm.

Li Chuan’s breath grew heavier, each gasp felt like it was being forced from his chest. At that moment, he understood this wasn’t just a malfunctioning machine. This was something far beyond human comprehension—an overwhelming force no one could resist.

In the last moments before the screen cut out, it shook violently, as if some indescribable power was tearing it apart. The green light distorted, and strange geometric shapes began to emerge. They weren’t living things, nor pure energy—they seemed to be remnants of something ancient, from deep within time itself, breaking the rules of reality.

Su Na stared at the screen, her mind blank as the geometric patterns flashed before her eyes. Those vague shapes… she had seen something like them before, perhaps in the endless darkness of some underground caverns. But she shook her head. It had to be an illusion... impossible.

“What… was that?” Su Na’s voice was barely a whisper, as though she feared the answer.

Meanwhile, in the Tongxu Bureau’s command center, the commander stood before a screen, silently watching the experiment spiral out of control.

The commander stared at the screen, a sense of unease creeping up his spine. He knew there was more behind this experiment—power plays, hidden agendas. He was just one pawn in a much larger game.

Turning to his deputy, the commander said, “Follow the orders from above. Continue the mission. We’re only seeing a part of it.” He narrowed his eyes, the unease growing, but he knew he couldn’t question his orders.

The deputy didn’t ask any questions, just nodded. The tension in the command room thickened. Everyone’s breath was heavy with a shared anxiety, as though they were walking a path from which there was no return.

A scientist murmured, “These energy waves... they’re too similar to the cosmic aftershocks of the Big Bang... but that’s impossible... they should only exist in theory.” The others exchanged uneasy glances, unwilling to acknowledge the impossible truth.

The data continued to spiral out of control. No one had time to process the implications. They were all too focused on the immediate crisis.

Suddenly, the screen plunged into darkness. All images ceased. The only sound left in the lab was a faint background hum, as though all movement had come to a stop.

The cold, oppressive air weighed heavily on them, and no one dared to speak. Fear, like an invisible shadow, hung over them all.

Li Chuan sat rigid, his fingers trembling slightly. It wasn’t just the images on the screen that haunted him—it was the sense that something far older, predating the birth of the universe, had stirred. Something incomprehensible, but terrifyingly real.

Back in the Tongxu Bureau command center, lines of code flashed across the screens. The commander’s face remained stone-cold as he surveyed the preparations.

“Coordinates confirmed,” a soldier reported quietly.

The commander nodded slightly, his gaze hardening. “All units, proceed with the operation. We can’t give them another chance.”

Li Chuan released his tense grip on the controls, his heart pounding. The memory of the piercing green light and the scientists’ despair wouldn’t leave his mind. Tongxu Bureau had underestimated the crystal’s power, and now, time was running out for them all.

He Ling’s voice cut through the tension. “Tongxu Bureau hasn’t fully mastered the technology. This is our chance.”

Li Chuan swallowed nervously. “The crystal’s power... it’s too strong. We still don’t fully understand it.”

Su Na interrupted sharply, “There’s no time. Move now.”

Time slipped away, each second increasing the pressure.

Suddenly, a deafening boom echoed from outside the base, shaking the ground. The screen flickered, momentarily freezing the image.

The room buzzed with sudden urgency. He Ling acted swiftly. “Li Chuan, switch the base to defense mode, activate the auto-turrets!”

Li Chuan’s fingers struggled to keep up with the flashing alarms. His eyes locked onto the screen—“Turrets activated!” His voice was low, but the tension was clear.

“Go!” He Ling’s order was brief. The Awakened fighters disappeared into the shadows as the base became a battlefield.