City-21 “Kyiv,” UNSA Protectorate, Avril Dominion
Julia Drozdova, Vratislav Shvets, Kamil Teodoryanu
August 15, 2049, 7:19 PM
Three close friends, who had worked together on a student startup for racing aerodrones, gathered at a corner table in the “Aether Lounge” bar-restaurant. They had only received access to this exclusive venue that very morning — making it the natural choice for their gathering, the first one since pledging allegiance to the Protectorate.
After all, the schedules and lifestyles of Julia and Vratislav — both engineers in the Blue Class — were worlds apart from those of Kamil Teodoryanu, a promising initiate in the Red Class. Intense training sessions and frequent medical procedures left Kamil, a future Templar, with barely any free time.
“So, this is what life for the elite really looks like!” Julia Drozdova — simply ‘Jules’ to her friends — exclaimed, leaning back in her ultra-ergonomic chair, glancing around in awe.
Her boyfriend, Vratislav Shvets — also known as Slavek — just chuckled softly, watching her usual burst of energy and enthusiasm. After exhausting days of studying Protectorate technology and grueling work on the Wall and its countless fortifications, it felt great to finally kick back and see what they’d been working so hard for.
Reaching this place was easy — shuttles operated regularly, bringing anyone who wished to come, at any hour. But only the best were granted entry, those who had proven their worth through dedication and intellect, those whom the Protectorate had fully recognized as its most valued and respected citizens.
The interior of the bar-restaurant, located in the lower level of the Sky Bastion “Queen Lamarck”, exuded an aura of restrained opulence. Tall columns, as if carved from black granite, rose toward the ceiling, where art deco patterns in golden and dark tones unfurled across the surface. Soft lighting embedded in the columns reflected off the marble floor, creating the illusion of floating structures and revealing details that changed with the light and time of day. Crystal chandeliers, resembling hovering orbs, cast a gentle, ambient glow.
The dark wood tables, inlaid with shimmering crystals, featured built-in holographic displays that allowed guests to view their orders and browse the digital menu. Velvet and leather-upholstered chairs and sofas ranged in hues from deep blue and jade green to dark ruby. Genuine holographic paintings lined the walls — not mere augmented reality projections, but dynamic displays depicting the Protectorate’s history in vibrant scenes that came to life at a glance.
Glimmering panoramic “windows” offered a breathtaking view of evening Kyiv, where thousands of lights below sparkled like distant stars. Jules had done her research and knew that no actual glass was present here. Instead, they sat across from holographic screens on a solid wall. A sophisticated camera system created an image indistinguishable from reality, allowing guests to observe even the finest details of the cityscape and evoking a thrilling sensation of flight.
For a finishing touch, pristine white napkins bearing the Protectorate’s emblem were set in sleek chrome holders on each table.
In a word, the decor embodied both luxury and perfection.
Julia glanced at Kamil with a smile. It seemed impossible for anyone to change even slightly in just a few days — yet he left a subtly different impression. His movements had become more measured, almost calculated to the millimeter, and his gaze was sharp and slightly piercing. But when this big guy flashed his familiar broad, friendly smile, all doubts faded away. He was still the same old Kamil!
The gray-eyed brunette chose a cherry stout from the menu, Slavek went for a traditional pale lager, and Kamil ordered a ginger biotonic infused with spices — alcohol was strictly forbidden for him now, as a future White-class warrior.
When the conversation momentarily lulled, Julia leaned forward, her eyes shining with excitement, bursting to share the news she’d been holding onto for hours.
“Guys, you won’t believe this!” she nearly shouted, leaning over the table. “Guess who I saw today? Alba!”
Kamil’s eyebrow lifted, and his stern expression softened just a bit.
“Alba? Seriously?” he repeated, his gaze filled with interest.
Jules went on, unable to contain her enthusiasm, gesturing wildly and practically bouncing in her seat.
“I’m serious! It was really her! But that’s not even the biggest news. Listen closely…” She paused dramatically, and then exclaimed, “Alba’s now in White Class! Can you believe it?”
Slavek straightened up to his full height in his chair, his eyes wide with surprise. They’d had separate shifts today, so he hadn’t seen his girlfriend since this morning and had no idea about her encounter.
“White Class?” he repeated slowly, as though the words were too surreal to grasp. “Like the Templars? Like Kriegsherzog Adalbert von Lamarck himself? That… doesn’t seem possible. I mean, really, Jules. I could believe Kamil here might become a Templar... maybe in ten years…”
“It’s twenty years, actually. After twenty years of flawless service and a brutal examination,” Kamil corrected him. “Everyone in our training group knows that.”
“See? So how could anyone make it into White Class just four days after the Shaiszu invasion? Are you sure you didn’t just mistake her for someone else?”
“No way!” Jules protested, banging her fist on the table in annoyance. “It was really her, our Alba! She was with us in the startup for two years; I remember her perfectly. I’d recognize her anywhere, even if she’s changed… incredibly so.”
Suddenly, Kamil raised a finger, squinting as if focusing on something in the distance. After a few seconds, he nodded.
“But it’s true. That really was her. Acolyte of the Grand Techno-Priest of the Fourth Avril Army, Junior Priest-Analyst of the Temple, Second Lieutenant Alba Maria Rodriguez Marquez. On the fourth day. Well, my life will never be the same.”
He nearly downed his non-alcoholic biotonic in one gulp and gestured to the waitress in a Green Efficiency Class uniform for a refill. “No mistake. I looked it up in the military app, in the ‘Officers’ section.”
Julia, thrilled that her story had been confirmed, eagerly began describing exactly how Alba had changed.
“Guys, you should have just seen her! White military robes with the Fourth Army insignia, a high-velocity officer’s needle gun on her left hip, and a techno-staff on her right. Her head was completely shaved; I even noticed fresh scars from implants — can you imagine? Where her right eye used to be, there’s now this shiny metal plate. And the strangest thing — these clear tubes were sticking out of her nose, filled with some sort of translucent yellow gas, leading somewhere under her robe. And on her back? Two additional cybernetic manipulator arms! Whoa! It’s absolutely WILD!”
She flung her arms out in excitement, nearly knocking over her glass but not even noticing. Her gaze darted between the two men, eagerly waiting for their reactions.
“Did you talk to her? Did you… tell her what we found out yesterday?” Vratislav asked cautiously.
“No…” Julia admitted, a little sheepish. “I… kind of froze up. Alba was moving so fast, with this stern look on her face, I just… didn’t get the chance. I messaged her later, but she’s got ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode on, and she still hasn’t read it. I really wanted to tell her…”
The waitress brought another tonic, and Kamil thanked her, swirling the glass in his hand before setting it back down on the table.
“Honestly, it’s impressive,” he said. “She’s bound to become a legend now. In our training, we’ve already started learning the history of the Protectorate from the time of the Exodus from the Original World. And I’ve never heard of anything like this. If our training is intense, I can’t even imagine what she’s going through…”
“Yeah,” Vratislav agreed. “And with all those implants added at once… that must be pure hell, I think. I’m still not fully recovered from our updates, and hers sound way more complex and exhausting from what Jules described.”
The brunette continued to chatter excitedly, clearly thrilled for Alba. Vratislav just smiled, watching her — that was just so like his Jules. No trace of jealousy or bitterness, nothing like that. Kind-hearted, smart… and maybe a touch naïve. She was genuinely happy for her friend.
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“See? I knew all along she was special. Alba was always different. Her mind, her determination… the Protectorate saw that. They recognized her! Now she’s part of our elite, like von Lamarck himself! And not just in the Halls of Honor — she’s got access to the inner sanctums of the Temple. She might have even met Him… It’s honestly hard to wrap my head around…”
A silence hung over their table for a few seconds as all three of them exchanged meaningful glances, each processing this news. The fact that someone from their old student group was already part of the White Class was hard to wrap their minds around……
The Protectorate’s White Class of Social Efficiency, which had once seemed so unattainable and distant, suddenly felt just a bit closer.
----------------------------------------
The conversation gradually faded, weighed down by darker news — the kind none of them dared to mention yet. A heavy silence settled over the table. Gentle strains of classical music, laced with digital notes, filled the air. But the three friends were hardly listening, all sound fading into a blur of white noise for them.
Kamil, Julia, and Slavek sat quietly, each lost in memories, silently mourning their recent loss.
The previous evening, at 9:00 PM, the Protectorate had finally released the list of those who’d fallen during the assault on the Factory and the renouncers’ ruthless follow-up attack on sections of the Wall. To their utter shock, Gleb Evseyev — a mutual friend and comrade — had been among the names. Julia had actually organized today’s gathering as a way to honor his memory.
And her bright chatter about Alba, just as that forced cheer — it was all an attempt to cover her own pain. Slavek and Kamil understood and chose to play along, unwilling to deny her this small comfort.
After a while, the future Templar leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, looking at his friends with visible sadness in his eyes. He raised his glass of tonic, giving it a small, almost hesitant shake. To Slavek, it seemed as though the Red Class warrior was gathering his strength to continue.
“Let’s… let’s raise a glass to Gleb,” Kamil finally said, his voice quiet and thick with emotion. “That guy… he was the real deal. Remember how he’d always find a way to lift our spirits before a race? How he’d pull us out of any mess? Damn… he was my best friend… Without him, all of this… just feels meaningless now.”
Julia quietly lowered her head, her eyes brimming with tears as she tried to hide them, staring down at her glass of cherry stout.
“I remember,” she said, her voice choked with the weight of grief pressing down on her. “And I still can’t believe he’s gone. How could he just… leave us like that? How could something happen that would just tear him out of our lives?”
She raised her head and looked up at them, her eyes filled with raw pain.
“I’ve known him since prep courses. He was always there, with his silly jokes, his contagious laugh. Remember how he amused us before last year’s finals? We were all on edge, and he put on that little show with the remote-controlled robot just to take our minds off things.”
Slavek managed a sad smile, recalling how, to ease the tension before the final races, Gleb had placed his small robot on the table and made it dance a ridiculous jig to the music. They had all laughed till they cried, and Gleb, pleased with their reaction, just winked and said, “Laugh it up, people! Laughter fuels focus! We’re here to take the victory!”
“And those ‘sports’ debates he’d always have with you, Kamil, over what was better — street workout or classic bodybuilding… Damn… He was our anchor, the heart of our team,” Slavek went on, struggling to hold back his emotions. “With him around, everything felt easier, even when things were rough. Not once did he ever complain. Remember that time when that unlucky jet engine blew up in his hands, taking two of his fingers? I can’t imagine the pain he must have endured, but all he said was, ‘No biggie, I’ve seen worse! Docs will stitch them back on! I recover faster than you guys can memorize equations… just find my lost bits under the stand, would ya?’”
He paused for a moment, reflecting on how much they had lost with their friend’s passing.
“Gleb was… irreplaceable. We didn’t just lose a teammate — we lost a brother.”
Kamil clenched his fists, his voice thick with bitterness and anger.
“You know what makes me the angriest? Those rebels, those damn Renouncers,” he growled, barely holding back a shout. “They don’t even realize the harm they’re doing. Gleb would still be alive if it weren’t for their pointless war. He gave his life to protect us from their madness. But they… they don’t even understand who they took from us!”
“You know, Kamil… maybe they do understand…” Julia murmured, shaking her head and looking up. “But that doesn’t matter. Because I’m certain — Gleb knew exactly what he was doing. And he’d do it all again without hesitation. He was a hero, even if he’d never call himself that.”
“He’s been honored, posthumously,” her voice trembled, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. “They gave him a medal. And the title ‘Hero of the Protectorate.’ Gleb would probably laugh at that. But deep down, he’d know he earned it. He gave everything he had… and even more.”
“Yeah, he’d definitely laugh…” Kamil nodded in agreement. “And then he’d say he did it all for us. Like he’d always say, ‘If anyone can take it, it’s me.’ Gleb never backed down, never held back.”
Slavek raised his glass, clearing his throat to fight back the stubborn lump that threatened to choke him, the one that kept bringing tears to his eyes. Yes, it was that damned lump’s fault. After all, real men don’t cry.
“To Gleb. To a true hero. Let’s be worthy of his memory. And for him, for the man he was… we have to keep going.”
Julia and Kamil followed his example, raising their glasses in unison. They each took a quiet sip, privately saying goodbye to the friend who had been with them through their darkest and brightest times.
Silence settled over the table once again, but it no longer felt so daunting. It felt as if Gleb’s spirit had joined them at the table, flashing his familiar bright smile. As if, unseen, he was there, watching over them, guiding and supporting them like he always had.
After a long, moment of silence, Kamil finally returned to the subject that had been weighing on him.
“Guys, I still don’t understand these Renouncers,” he said. “They’ve betrayed us all. When the Shaiszu flooded our world, when the threat loomed over every city, these traitors, instead of uniting to protect people, turned against us. How can anyone be so blind as to destroy the future of their own kind?”
Julia frowned, her gaze drifting to her nearly empty glass as if studying it. Her expression grew colder, more pensive.
“Kamil, I get why you feel that way, but…” She paused, carefully choosing her words. “Among the Renouncers, there are good people… Remember on August 13th, when I asked in the chat about where Dasha and Max had gone, and Alba replied that they’d used their right to opt-out and left the city? Yet, Dasha still took the time to drive us all to the gathering point!”
Scowling, Kamil shook his head.
“Yeah, that’s true. And it’s for the best if they really did leave. Because if they’d stayed and hidden with the rest of those Renouncers at the Factory, I’d never have forgiven them,” He exhaled heavily, taking a moment. “Jules, I was part of the assault on that bandits’ lair. Those so-called ‘good people’ turned it into pure hell. Mines everywhere, traps, swarms of drones blowing everything to pieces! The Renouncers would rather tear down the world we’re trying to build. And our Gleb… our Gleb died defending Kyiv from their savagery!”
Vratislav, watching Kamil closely, sighed and gently interjected.
“Hey, I get why you’re angry. The Renouncers did terrible things. But, you know, not all of them are terrorists. Some genuinely only want a better world. Sometimes… I wonder if they just see things differently?”
Kamil scoffed, but there wasn’t a trace of humor in his eyes.
“Oh? And what exactly do they see, Slavek? How to bomb a refugee camp? Because that’s exactly what they did! How to destroy the city Wall to leave Kyiv defenseless against the Shaiszu? And they nearly succeeded — they really managed to take out one of the Towers. You know as well as I do that the Towers are the only things stopping Portals from opening inside the city.”
The furious Red Class warrior downed the rest of his biotonic in three large gulps, barely tasting it.
“Do you know that they didn’t just slip away using cloaking tech — they even tried to nuke the Wall? I saw it with my own eyes — disarmed bombs. These maniacs want to bring down the Protectorate, the only force standing between us humans and the Shaiszu and whatever else is out there beyond the Wall. They’re not just taking down buildings; they’re attacking the very idea of order and security. And we… soldiers like me, like Gleb — we’re all that’s keeping the total chaos at bay.”
Julia sighed, her face a mixture of conflicting emotions.
“Kamil, I’m not defending the Renouncers. I know they’ve done terrible things. But maybe… we’re not seeing the whole picture either. Maybe some of them truly believe they’re doing what’s right?”
Kamil shot her a doubtful look.
“You’re starting to sound like you’re questioning things yourself, Julia. Don’t forget — they chose war when humanity needed to stand together. With the Shaiszu ready to wipe us out, the Renouncers decided it was the perfect time for a revolution. They’re not just traitors; they’re the enemies of everything we’re fighting to protect.”
Julia shook her head, feeling torn inside but knowing she couldn’t change his mind. Kamil’s conviction that the Protectorate was humanity’s only line of defense was unshakeable. Yet doubts continued to gnaw at her.
“I just… I can’t stop thinking about Max and Dasha,” she said softly, looking at her friends. “We know them, Kamil. They were part of our lives, part of our Uni-team, our friends, and there was never any rivalry between us! I can’t believe they’re the cruel, heartless people you describe… and yet, they chose to join the resistance too.”
He sighed and nodded, his tone softening.
“I understand, Jules. I remember what they meant to us. And besides, Alba told us they left Kyiv on the very first day. I don’t blame them for what happened at the Factory or after that. But you have to understand — they’ve chosen their side now. They’re enemies of the Protectorate. And if I ever have to face them in battle…” His face hardened, his features seeming to sharpen with resolve, “I will stand by what I believe in. The Protectorate is my home, my family. It stands above any personal ties.”
Seeing the conversation was becoming too tense, Slavek decided to steer it in another direction.
“What about the Shaiszu?” he asked quietly. “They’re part of this war too. They’re not just shadows; they’re real beings who pose a genuine threat. We’ve all seen what they can do.”
“The Shaiszu are the embodiment of evil,” Kamil nodded. “I’ve only just started studying them, but I already know this much: they’re intelligent, ruthless, and absolutely bent on our destruction. The Shaiszu Swarm is controlled by the Collective Mind of the Matriarchs, and they never negotiate or seek dialogue. They just come to kill and destroy. That’s the essence of the Swarm, and our duty is to stand against it. The Protectorate is the only shield capable of holding back their assault.”
Noticing that this was a topic with no disagreement or conflict, Julia nodded and raised her glass.
“Then, to the Protectorate. To those who protect us and allow us to feel safe. To our home.”
Kamil and Slavek raised their glasses as well. This toast was more than just a gesture — it was a heartfelt pledge of loyalty and resolve.
“To the Protectorate,” they echoed. “To the future we’re building together.”
The three friends, bound by the belief that the Protectorate was both their family and shield, took a solemn sip. Despite individual doubts and personal convictions, they found common ground in that moment, a shared strength that would help them bear the loss of their friend. And perhaps now more than ever, each felt that this path was true — that together, they were building a future worth fighting for.