Project Codex

"Come in, Control Room," a man spoke into his communicator, standing before a massive door with enormous metal containers stacked beside him.

A moment of static filled the line before a voice crackled back.

"This is Control Room, over."

"We've received orders to prepare the specimens for transfer, over," the man responded.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!

"...What are our orders?" the voice on the other end finally asked.

"...Gas them," the man ordered, his voice cold.

"Understood."

They waited in silence.

A few minutes later, the voice returned.

"All specimens have been sedated. It's safe, soldier."

A loud click echoed through the chamber as the gigantic door's locking mechanisms disengaged. The massive wheel at its center spun, metal latches releasing with heavy clunks before the door began to rise.

"Understood. Over and out," the man said, cutting the transmission.

As the door fully opened, a strange gas seeped from the chamber beyond.

"Alright, you all heard the orders," the commander addressed his unit, lifting a small vial. Inside, a tiny insect twitched beneath a white seal. "Every single thing in this room gets one of these. Understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" the battalion responded in unison.

"Move in."

The soldiers pushed the large metal crates inside, their heavy steps echoing in the vast, sterile chamber. The room was so enormous that its farthest walls were lost in the distance. Fluorescent lights lined the ceiling in a strange, almost unnatural pattern, casting a cold white glow over the space. There were no windows, no other exits—only the massive door they had just entered through.

And scattered across the floor, like fallen leaves, lay hundreds—no, thousands—of unconscious people.

"This is going to take a while," one of the men muttered.

"Spread out," the commander ordered. "Begin the operation."

…

…

"Huh?" One of the soldiers suddenly stopped, his breath hitching.

"What is it?" his companion asked, turning to find him holding up a young, lifeless boy.

"This kid... isn't he dead?" the soldier asked, frowning.

"So?" the other replied flatly.

"What do you mean so? Should I even implant the MCD into a corpse?"

"Listen," the soldier sighed. "Our orders were to attach an MCD to everything in this room. Just follow protocol."

After a moment's hesitation, the man pried the boy's mouth open. He tapped the vial's side, releasing the insect inside. It skittered forward before darting straight into the child's throat.

"MCD attached," the soldier muttered.

Next, he took out a sleek white device, fastening it around the boy's wrist. The small screen flickered from blue to green before sinking into the child's skin.

"Meta Watch attached," he confirmed.

His brows furrowed as he examined the boy more closely.

"…This hair," he murmured. "I've never seen hair like this before."

"Strange," his companion agreed. "I heard from someone in Delta-3 that the beings on the Blue Star didn't even know mana existed. The presence of mana there is practically nonexistent."

"Yeah… so why did this kid's hair change color when awakening?"

"Beats me. I wonder what affinity he—"

The soldier stopped mid-sentence. Slowly, he crouched down, prying open the boy's eyelids.

"...What the hell?"

"What?"

"His eyes."

"Yeah?"

"They're white."

…

…

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

"Is this the Containment Control Room?"

"...Yes, this is CCR. Over."

"Operation was a success. All specimens have been implanted and are ready for transfer. Over."

"Understood," a voice responded. "You have new orders, Alpha-7. Return to base."

"Understood. Over and out," the commander acknowledged before cutting the connection.

A young technician seated at the control panel of the containment facility glanced toward Maxwell, who sat with a satisfied grin.

"Electrocute them," Maxwell ordered.

"...Understood."

The technician relayed the command. "Order from Head Scientist to Main Control Room."

"Main Control Room. Over."

"Electrocute them."

A moment later, the screens lit up, displaying a synchronized convulsion of every individual trapped within Area 1.

"Good," Maxwell murmured. "Turn it off. That should wake them up."

"New orders from the Head Scientist."

"...What are the orders? Over."

"Turn it down."

"Understood. Over and out."

The technician turned to Maxwell. "Sir, the floor is yours."

His gaze swept over the room, then he exhaled slowly before his voice thundered through the intercom. 

"I will be brief," he began. "Welcome to Project Codex.

First and foremost, let me make one thing clear—you are alone. You have lost everything. Yes, everything. Even your freedom. You are a slave, and that is what you will remain.

To those of you who wish to drown in despair, feel free to do so. But for those who refuse to surrender, for those who are willing to fight until their last breath, I offer you a chance—a chance to reclaim everything that was taken from you. Your family, your life, even your planet.

But know this—the cost will be steep. Most of you won't survive.

Then again... what else do you have to lose?"