Visions of the Past

In the months after Prota fell, life gained steadier rhythms again.

But many mysteries still plagued Jiro's restless mind. During construction lulls, he slipped away to sit beside burbling creeks and ponder the past.

Jiro knew Ruka guarded deeper secrets about the hidden history of Cassou's relics and advanced weapons.

......Though the Armory technology enabled their victory, its origins remained unclear.

Jiro decided it was time to learn the full truth.

......Dangerous ignorance enabled the networks of greed and hubris that birthed alien plagues.

......Wisdom meant facing darkness honestly, without flinching.

One misty morning, Jiro rose early and hiked to a remote waterfall pool cloaked by pines where Ruka often fished alone. His old comrade grinned widely in welcome.

Ruka's presence could soften the hardest days.

"You're up early, brother!" Ruka said cheerily.

.....He waved his rod at boulders he had placed just so, guiding currents.

"Join me for some quiet thinking time. The fish can wait."

Jiro bowed gratefully.

. .As they sat, he gathered the courage to ask what long had roiled his meditations.

"My friend..." Jiro began hesitantly.

"Our victory came through powers barely comprehended. We stand atop a mountain of hidden history.

.... I mean no disrespect, but I must understand Cassou's past in full - including the Armory's secrets."

Ruka exhaled slowly, brows furrowed. Then he met Jiro's eyes.

"I always knew this day would come," Ruka nodded.

"But the truth may cut deeper than any battlefield blade, brother. Once seen, some stains can't be unseen.

Are you sure?"

..Jiro steeled his nerves. "I cannot live blindly, however painful the light."

Ruka placed a hand on Jiro's shoulder.

"Then follow me. The chronicles await."

They hiked silently to one of Cassou's remote oral history caves.

Ruka opened the etched stone door with an elaborate series of taps.

Inside, they descended through dusty chambers filled with artefacts - alien skeletons suspended in tubes, obsidian carvings, and pyramidical technology of unknowable purpose.

Jiro realized this crypt predated human arrival.

At the archives room, Ruka withdrew a scroll-like parchment and motioned for Jiro to sit beside him.

"What I reveal now stays in your heart alone," Ruka insisted.

Jiro nodded, chilled with anticipation.

Ruka began recounting an unbelievable history...

..........

Aeons ago, an immensely advanced alien civilization occupied much of the Milky Way galaxy.

They built Dyson spheres and planetary mega-structures of unrivalled scale.

For unknown reasons, their civilization collapsed virtually overnight.

....Ruined cities were left abandoned across thousands of worlds, their technologies were lost.

On Earth, one such city was discovered buried in Alaska by miners during the 19th-century gold rush.

....Humans therein unearthed mind-boggling artefacts - devices for manipulating gravity, space, time, and consciousness.

Secret agencies sequestered found relics and conducted reverse-engineering in shadowy compounds.

....This yielded breakthrough innovations decades ahead of their time - radars, lasers, integrated circuits, and super-alloys.

More ruins were discreetly excavated in remote regions worldwide, yielding caches of ever more unsettling knowledge and relics.

.....A global arms race erupted behind closed doors.

Ruka then said the unthinkable:

the original Xeno-3 and Protean outbreaks resulted from these unguided experiments seeking bioweapons or super-soldiers using recovered alien viral strains.

When national arsenals proved unable to contain the global contagion, unified emergency response protocols were established.

.....A contingent came to Cassou where ancient structures contained further armaments.

..Thus the covert Armory was founded.

Jiro reeled in his seat. To realize their apocalypse was self-inflicted by such hubris was too much.

...He gazed emptily into the darkness, feeling suddenly adrift.

Ruka placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry, brother. But the clouds must break for light to penetrate."

Questions cascaded through Jiro's mind, but he was too overwhelmed to speak. His reality felt upended.

Ruka brought him tea brewed from forest herbs.

...Its earthy taste revived Jiro's senses.

Steadying his breath, clarity slowly returned. The truth shone harshly but must be understood to safeguard the future.

"Then the entities preserved in the Armory..." Jiro finally whispered. "They are.."The remnants of those who built this place," Ruka confirmed.

"An advanced biomechanical soldier caste. We know them as... the Precursors."

Jiro's hands trembled, making his teacup chime against its plate.

..The sound echoed through misty millennia, joining lost cries of innumerable civilizations that rose and fell under stars still burning.

To comprehend humanity's insignificance left only humility. But this vulnerable world was theirs now to shepherd.

"Thank you for this truth, however heavy," Jiro said slowly. "We must carry these lessons with great care."

Ruka clasped his shoulder tightly. "Together we will, my friend."

They sat in solemn silence then, watching dust dance through angled beams of light as if seeing Earth's impermanence for the first time.

..........

In days after, Jiro could barely function because of grief and dismay.

How long had privileged elites hoarded this truth as the rest of humanity struggled blindly?

But rage changed nothing.

He still performed his duties rebuilding settlements, but a shadow lurked behind each smile now.

...Any comfort came solely in seeing survivors thrive despite the sins of their fathers. Their lives embodied hope.

At night, Jiro wandered through ruined megacity cores that had been Prota's domain.

...Sharing knowledge eased his pain somewhat.

..City people sensed the deeper truth - that human hubris itself had opened the portal.

Once seeds took root, contrition spread like fire through communities.

...Those who came together to cleanse made peace with their part in the collective delusion.

Blame alone never uplifted anyone.

As the people awakened, they sang songs honouring the forsaken and forgotten from whom abundance flowed.

For all were one body, the pure and corrupt alike.

Guided by this groundswell, leaders founded the Restorative Commission to uncover past sins and bring dark truths to light worldwide.

All voices would be heard.

Jiro addressed gatherings of everyday citizens, chosen for his honesty and passion.

He became their advocate against the remnants of the powerful regimes.

"We must cling to our shared humanity," he declared. "Let our policy and currency be kindness.

Each of us has made grave mistakes, but also has gifts to share."

Like wildflower seeds, redemption takes root in soil prepared. And the people's soil had been turned.

They were ready to walk new paths, however difficult.

..........

Riding this energy wave, Jiro and regional delegates convened a Forum in the rebuilt capital city, rechristened again as 'Harmony.'

...All remaining sites of oppression would be transformed.

For a week, they hosted open meetings where all grievances could flow until the poisons drained.

Each morning began with silence and communal singing.

Some testimonials echoed through vast halls. Soldiers confessed crimes committed under commanders who now evaded justice.

...Forgiveness came freely to those demonstrating remorse through service.

Once, a gaunt woman in worker's rags stood and said:

"The worst violence I endured was not to my body but to my spirit. Our innate gifts meant nothing to them.

We were chattel, not sovereign souls."

Her words pierced deeper than any bullet.

The policymakers hung their heads, unable to meet her gaze.

When the people's pain left their lips, tears flowed even on the stoniest faces.

Anguish long denied release finally found balm in open words and kind listening.

Jiro understood that grace alone could prevent chaos.

At the Forum's close, all delegates gathered in the rebuilt central square where Prota's spires once skewered the sky.

Together, they tore the last of these edifices down and levelled the ground for a community garden.

As one, they turned soil and planted rows of saplings airing the promise of generations to whom they would bequeath a saner world.

In this same ground, the blood of their young had watered deadly roots not long ago.

But today, hands dirty with honest sweat dedicated this earth to nourishment, healing, and rebirth.

..........

Riding home toward Cassou's beckoning mountains, Jiro made frequent stops along the way.

He sat with farming communes and monks who sought to keep technology's advance in balance with nature's rhythms.

Most people remained too busy surviving to ponder humanity's wider fate.

... But these contemplatives played a vital role as stewards. They understood life only flourishes within limits, and enough must suffice.

Jiro confessed what he knew of the sins embedded in society's foundations. Though appalled, the old abbots only smiled knowingly.

"Throughout all ages, arrogance is humbled low," said one monk named Patli.

"But we plant anew expecting no bloom in our day. Stay spiritually grounded, child."

In their quiet company, Jiro found solace.

Human folly was nothing new. Wisdom simply meant accepting one's place on the broader cyclical path.

Ruka understood Jiro's need for periods of retreat at the hermitages.

They always embraced like long-lost brothers upon reuniting, whatever inner depths Jiro had sounded.

..........

Even in Cassou, once idyllic refuge from worldly ills, troubling change brewed. A restlessness infected youth born after the fall. They pushed against their elders' caution.

"The past is dead, yet here we cower in its shadow," said headstrong Mikal one evening. "We should expand beyond these ageing walls, not limit the future."

Murmurs spread among the young. They hungered to explore lands reborn after tribulation, not hide from phantom fears.

Ruka tried to temper their exuberance when Mikal's band prepared an expedition to chart the changing geography beyond Cassou. They saw only adventure, not hazards.

"Your hearts seek worthy horizons," Ruka conceded. "But dire things still dwell in this wilderness untamed. Return by week's end, and we shall toast your journey."

The youth set off lively into misty dawns, sharing dreams too long deferred. Jiro watched them depart with a mixture of wistfulness and foreboding. Every soul must walk its path, courageously or in despair.

Near week's end, sentries spotted a lone battered figure limping from the forest. It was Mikal, collapsed and raving incoherently. But the rest were gone.

When he regained some composure, Mikal described how the company was set upon by a terrifying pack of misshapen beasts near Prota's fallen citadel. Only he escaped the carnage.

Ruka's face turned grave as he listened. He and Jiro shared a look - they both knew what Mikal had encountered. Jiro prepared immediately for a grim quest to find traces of the naive youths. There were far worse things than ghosts haunting those lands.

Humanity's darkest evils still lurked untamed in the shadows. But with wisdom and courage, their people yet had hope of standing united against the encroaching night. Jiro set off swiftly into the gloom, this time knowing the true enemy.