1st Day:
Ruan Mei writhed in agony, the venom burning through her. Her thoughts grew sluggish, her vision blurred. The pain threatened to overwhelm her, pulling her toward unconsciousness.
2nd Day:
The venom intensified, each moment bringing fresh waves of unbearable pain. Her body spasmed violently, leaving her weak and dizzy. Maintaining consciousness became a struggle, exhaustion pulling at her.
Hours Before the 3rd Day:
Alam found Ruan Mei curled into a fetal position, her breath ragged and shallow. Her skin felt feverish. Though disoriented, she could still hear him.
Alam gently touched her cheek. "Blink three times if you want the antidote."
Ruan Mei didn't react at first, her eyes twitching uncontrollably from the pain. Finally, with a monumental effort, she managed three blinks.
Alam chuckled. "Good. First phase. This will ease the pain." He injected the antidote.
Almost instantly, the burning subsided, replaced by a wave of soothing coolness. Her breathing evened, though her vision remained blurred. She was still weak, but the agony was gone.
Alam chuckled. "Hehe... Good... Then I inject the antidote. This first phase will give you enough to remove the pain."
Her vision slowly cleared. The antidote was working. She took a breath, then spoke, her voice faint but clear. "What would you like to hear?"
Alam leaned in. "Now... Say something."
Ruan Mei slowly opened her eyes, allowing her vision to readjust to its normal state. As her vision cleared, she could feel the effects of the antidote kicking in at the same time. She was able to think more clearly now, and she could process what Alam had just asked her to say. She took a moment to regain her composure and then opened her mouth to speak.
Alam pressed, "Say what?"
Ruan Mei took a moment to think, and then she spoke in a quiet and clear tone. "What would you like to hear?"
Alam smirked. "Where is the sorry part? For being a mad scientist and prideful."
Ruan Mei laughed slightly. "Sorry? Is that what you want to hear? An apology? You're joking, right? How can you expect me to apologize for being a mad scientist or for being proud of my work? My research has no limits, and my pride and sense of accomplishment can never be compromised."
Alam shook his head. "That antidote is just the first phase. Without the second one, you will still die in the next hour."
Ruan Mei laughed again. "You really think I will beg for the second phase of that antidote? What kind of idiot do you take me for? Do you actually believe that I will ask you to grant me the antidote? You're out of your mind. I'd rather die here than accept something from you."
Alam nodded. "Good... Die."
Ruan Mei closed her eyes, a smirk on her face. "If you think I'll die that quickly, then it is you who is the fool. I can still survive for a while longer, even without the antidote. My body is strong and durable, and so it may still live even without the antidote, although the agony and pain will return. But as long as it takes before I die, I'll resist you until my very last breath, because I'd rather die than give in to you."
Ruan Mei closed her eyes, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "If you believe it will be that easy, you are mistaken. My body is resilient. I will endure as long as I can. I will resist you to my last breath."
The smirk vanished as the venom's agonizing grip tightened again. Pain surged through her, blurring her vision, slowing her breath. Her strength ebbed away, and unconsciousness threatened to claim her.
Alam sighed. "One hundred thousand RM credits… wasted on a stubborn child."
Ruan Mei’s body convulsed, her breath rattling in her chest. The venom was reaching its climax. A weak chuckle escaped her lips at the irony. Even such a vast sum couldn’t save her now. She was slipping away.
Alam watched as her body was carried away, a grim look on his face. He considered her stubborn pride. Was it truly worth dying for?
He turned back to his duties, Carmelita watching him with a thoughtful expression.
In the 24th century, replicating ancient technology was a rare skill. Humanity relied on a strange mix of medieval and modern tools—iron swords and laser guns sharing the same battlefield. Certain technologies, like AI, human implants, advanced weaponry, cloning, teleportation, and genetic engineering, were officially outlawed. But in this chaotic world, laws were more like guidelines
The Wanderers, a Carpathian-based mercenary company, had risen from humble beginnings to become a significant regional power, though not yet strong enough to join the New World Council.
alam founding on the ruan mei and its genius society bunkers is like opening a pandora box m, the genius society is linked to various shady deal across the world, including wanderers donor. a red nation based in north america.
red nation is natural rival of yellow nation. and wanderer on the middle on the two giant. especially given their origins tied closely to the Red Nation or so-called Free World, and ruled by man named Zion.
Exploring the area around Ruan Mei's lab, Alam discovered a hidden missile launch site behind the vegetation, its targeting systems clearly aimed at Yellow Nation territory. The implication was clear: Zion was protecting and supporting the Genius Society, granting them sanctuary in exchange for advanced technology and strategic assets like this missile site.
This discovery presented Alam with a difficult choice. Ignoring the situation meant risking a devastating war between the Red and Yellow Nations. The Yellow Nation, led by Bayarl Khan, had long harbored grievances against the Red Nation, fueled by territorial disputes and a history of conflict. Both of these expansionist factions were willing to do anything to justify war.
If the Red Nation continued its aggressive ambitions under Zion, the Yellow Nation would likely retaliate, leading to a conflict that could engulf not only the Wanderers but also the surrounding regions. Alam's decision to intervene was not merely about loyalty to the Wanderers; it was a strategic move to prevent a larger war that could devastate their way of life. He understood that the stakes were high: a war would not only threaten their survival but also disrupt the delicate balance of power in the region, potentially drawing in other factions and escalating the violence.
In this tense scenario, the Wanderers found themselves in a position reminiscent of Cold War-era tensions, akin to Cuba, Korea, and Afghanistan, but with a unique twist. Intervening, however, meant severing ties with the Red Nation, a powerful former ally, complicating Alam's already precarious situation.
Alam stood before a Red Nation flag on the wanderer base,. With a swift motion, he drew his dagger and plunged it through the center of the crimson banner. The act was decisive. The alliance was broken. They were now in open rebellion. Alam, once a supporter of Zion, now understood that Zion’s expansionist ambitions were a direct threat to the fragile peace the Wanderers had fought so hard to maintain.
They say balance is key—a blend of action and introspection. Alam has come to understand the dangers of hubris and arrogance, having taken a life in the process. But how can a mere man stand against an empire?
Carmelita, a woman draped in a black veil, entered Alam's office. "I know you wanted to see her on her redemption arc," she said knowingly. "But not everyone seeks redemption. You could have saved time and resources by just killing Ruan Mei in the first place."
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
Alam turned to face her, their eyes locking. "I know... But I believe everyone deserves a second chance."
Carmelita rolled her eyes, sarcasm lacing her words. "Whatever you say, boss. So, what's the next move?"
Alam nodded, fingers intertwined. "We now understand Zion's plan to use AI virtual worlds to control his population. It's more effective than drugs, cigarettes, vodka, or even sex dolls." He paused, his mind racing. "Let's research this further and uncover the side effects. Perhaps we can convince the Free World of its dangers and tarnish Zion's reputation."
Carmelita considered Alam's insight. Past civilizations had indeed used cheap alcohol, substances, and pornography to dull the masses, but AI VR represented a new level of control. "So, send in an agent?" she suggested.
Alam smiled, a glint of cunning in his eyes. "Of course, dumbass."
Meanwhile, as his agents were dispatched, Alam now faced a more dangerous opponent: capitalism and nature itself. The region Alam controlled sprawled from the Carpathian Mountains in Ukraine to Central Asia—a vast, sparsely populated area with scarce resources. Moreover, their neighbors were mostly hostile, and the majority were Zion's lapdogs.
Despite the absence of Zion's ground forces in the region due to some… logistical difficulties, his influence lingered through vassals like the Blood Khaganate. Their loyalty wasn’t based on shared ideology or ancient treaties. It was about coal.
Thanks to various global catastrophes before and after WW3, Earth's temperature had cooled, especially in the winter, with days growing longer. If you lived in the tropics or near the equator,
Alam shivered, pulling his thick coat tighter. Winter was coming, and in this part of the world, that was a death sentence. The Free World knew this, of course. They’d been shipping tons of coal and those fancy heat generators to anyone willing to bend the knee. A clever way to control things without getting your hands dirty.
Now, Alam’s isolated faction faced its own harsh winter. Providing heat for his people was a nightmare…
He grappled with the daunting challenge. With most young men in the military, only the elderly and children remained in the cities, leaving him with a manpower shortage.
Alam refused child labor or slave acquisition. Instead, he made the difficult decision to scrap some of his tanks, repurposing them into generators. He also turned to the black market, dealing with pirates and shady nations like the Green Nation in south for robot laborers—Dolls.
In the past, Alam might have turned to child labor, but he had grown as a leader. Despite opposition from his officers, he insisted that their tanks were useless without fuel and that children should be allowed to be children. not a factory shift.
As winter dragged on, a new crisis emerged: rationing food and medicine. While this strategy preserved resources and prevented starvation, it also bred discontent and despair among the population.
Alam’s fingers were numb, his toes were numb, and honestly, his soul felt a little numb too. Distributing the last of the medicinal herbs, he wondered if frostbite counted as a medical emergency. Probably. This whole world was one big medical emergency, if you thought about it
Alam, drawing inspiration from the story of Yusuf, or Joseph, chose to preserve resources and granted extra rations only to the sick. He spread pamphlets about the prophet's wisdom to bolster mental fortitude. "we must preserve." The people, their eyes as hollow as their stomachs, reluctantly agreed. Hope, it seemed, was a luxury they could no longer afford.
As winter intensified, rumors of a Blood Khaganate spy spread chaos through Alam's city. Faced with growing discontent, Alam enforced strict laws to maintain order, a decision that eroded individual liberties and diminished hope, potentially leading to a tyrannical regime.
Late in the winter, a major crisis emerged when rebels stole a granary on the Khaganate's border, leaving many starving. The desperate question of cannibalism arose, threatening to damage the city's moral compass and lead to societal collapse.
Alam knew the Khaganate’s game: portray him as a monster, a subhuman who drove his people to cannibalism, thus justifying a full-scale invasion. It was a classic dehumanization tactic.
“They’re painting us as savages,” Alam said to his advisors, holding up a crudely drawn poster depicting Wanderers gnawing on bones. “It’s effective propaganda. But we won’t give them the satisfaction.”
As the ice receded and the harsh steppes bloomed with wildflowers, nomadic groups emerged, some allied with the Khaganate, others fiercely independent. Alam's strategy was simple: liberate these lands and attract more nomads to bolster his own dwindling numbers.
The Blood Khaganate, living up to their name, mobilized a massive cavalry force toward Alam’s border. Without their tanks, the Wanderers were at a distinct disadvantage.
One spring day, the two forces met in a lush valley carpeted with yellow blossoms. The Wanderers, armed with high-tech weaponry and gunpowder, faced a mixed Khaganate force: some clad in modern armor, others wielding crude metal shields and melee weapons. Their crimson banners, emblazoned with white tridents, symbols of their supposed lineage tracing back to some obscure steppe warlord—snapped in the breeze.
Alam’s intercom crackled to life. It was Subutai, a Khaganate captain. His head was shaved at the front, the long hair at the back gathered in a traditional braid—a style mirrored by his riders, whose horses were adorned with painted antlers and colorful saddle blankets. Subutai sat astride a richly decorated horse, clearly making a point.
“Back off, Turks,” Subutai’s voice boomed. “Lay down your weapons and join our Khan. He offers you… ‘protection.’ Refuse, and your men will become a fertilizer of this valley. Your women will become… ‘guests.’”
Alam raised an eyebrow, suppressing a sigh. “You think a bit of Mongol DNA gives you the right to waltz in here? We won’t back down. Zion’s using us to pave his way to Europe and challenge the Yellow Nation. That’ll destabilize the peace we have maintain.”
Subutai laughed. “Peace? You want peace in this world? Surrender, Alam. Think of your little mountain tribe. We’ll spare them. Just give us back our missile, and let Zion do what he wants.”
Alam’s eye twitched. “You’re not seeing the bigger picture. When the Yellow Nation retaliates, we’ll be the first to get crushed.”
Subutai’s grin widened. “Zion’s coming in a year or so. You can’t stop the inevitable. Besides, we have the blood of the conqueror within us. It is our birthright to rule!”
Alam shook his head. “We’re not backing down.”
Subutai’s face hardened. “Then remember this, Turk. Genghis Khan’s blood runs in my veins. We’ll show you no mercy.” The connection cut.
Alam gave a hand signal. “They thinks their numbers and some ancestor worship will scare us off? Let them bleed for that mistak e.”
the wanderers are take position on the high valley. and the khaganate soldiers charge, along side with their horses, and armored vehicles.
wanderer sharp shooters is aim on the drivers first. their thermal scope and their bullet manage to pierce the armor, after the armored vehicles taken out. next is their horseman, series of grenade launch by sling and rocket launcer is make their decimated their horseman.
Despite the heavy losses, Subutai and a handful of riders pressed on. Subutai’s horse cleared the hastily erected, pointy log fence the Wanderers had set up. He was a sight to behold—an SMG clutched in his left hand, a scimitar gleaming in his right, a true warrior in full charge.
Then, a Wanderer sniper’s bullet found its mark, hitting Subutai in the neck. He tumbled from his horse, ending the charge.
The remaining Khaganate forces, shaken by the sudden loss of their leader and the effectiveness of the Wanderers’ defense, broke and retreated, leaving behind their supply tents.
Alam examines a captured Khaganate supply depot, he could note the mix of advanced fuel cells alongside barrels of oil and simple farming tools, reflecting on how society has regressed in some areas while retaining fragments of the past. "They're hauling fuel for their tanks right next to barrels of lamp oil. It's a damn mess, but it works, I suppose."
The Wanderers celebrated their first significant clash against the Khaganate, a much-needed victory. But the fighting had taken its toll. They were tired, and ammunition was running low. As Alam surveyed the valley, the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the landscape. It was then he noticed them: a group of riders appearing on the horizon. They were nomads, but unlike any he’d seen before. Their mounts were magnificent creatures, larger and more powerfully built than any ordinary horse, almost like they’d stepped out of some pre-war sci-fi holovid.
“Great,” Alam muttered, squinting at the approaching figures. “Just what we need—more surprises. I hope they don’t come with a side of trouble.”
As the nomads drew closer, Alam noticed they were heavily armed. One warrior, in particular, caught his eye. He was mounted on a magnificent horse, wielding an RPG in one hand and a machine gun in the other, looking like a cross between a cowboy and a futuristic soldier.
“Whoa there, partner!” Alam called out, raising a hand in a gesture of peace. “What’s your game?”
The warrior dismounted from his black horse with a flourish, revealing a muscular build covered in tattoos “I am Ali, undefeated wrestling champion of the nomadic tribes!” he declared, puffing out his chest. “And we come in peace!”
“Peace?” Alam raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You’re packing enough heat to start a small war.”
He gestured to the valley below, littered with Khaganate wreckage. “Looks like you boys had some fun. Shame we missed the party.”
Alam raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You’re packing enough heat to start your own war. And those…” He gestured to the riders behind Ali.
A rider beside Ali casually tossed a burlap sack to the ground. Several more severed heads, their hair shaved except for the traditional braid at the back, rolled out. Ali chuckled, his laughter booming like thunder. “Consider them a… peace offering. We had a little disagreement with some stragglers on the way here. They weren't keen on our new… direction.”
Alam exchanged glances with his officers, who looked equally bewildered. “So, let me get this straight. You want to join us because you’re angry at the Free World for taking your family?”
“Exactly!” Ali nodded vigorously. “We nomads value family above all. The Free World’s actions have made us outcasts. We seek a new home, a new family—like yours!”
“Okay, but what’s with the enhanced horses?” Alam asked, gesturing to the magnificent creatures. “Did you hit the genetic jackpot or something?”
Ali grinned, patting his horse affectionately. “These beauties are the result of our tribe’s ancient practices mixed with modern science. They’re faster, stronger, and can even do tricks! Watch this!” He whistled, and the horse reared up, performing a perfect jump over a tent
“Impressive!” Alam couldn’t help but smile.alam remind his time when at ruan mei bunkers, there is a tons of mad scientist who will sell their mutaned creature and tools for profit, or just their amusement despite international law, he then back glance at the giant black horse “But can they, like... fly?”
“Only if you teach them!” Ali laughed, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “But seriously, we want to fight alongside you. We have skills, and our horses can outmaneuver any enemy.”
Alam considered this. “Alright, but we need to know more about you and your people. What’s your story?”
Ali's expression turned serious. “We nomads have survived in this harsh world by relying on each other. We adapt, we share, and we fight for our families. We’ve seen the chaos of war, and we know the value of community. Joining you means we can protect our loved ones and reclaim what was taken from us.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Alam said, nodding. “But we have to be careful. The Free World won’t take kindly to us teaming up with you.”
“Let them come!” Ali boomed, raising his RPG triumphantly. “We’ll show them the strength of our unity!”
“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Alam said, extending his hand. “Welcome to the Wanderer Group, Ali. Just remember, we’re all about teamwork here. No solo acts, okay?”
Ali clasped Alam’s hand firmly, a grin spreading across his face. “You can count on me, General! Together, we’ll make the Free World and khaganate regret ever crossing us!”