Internal Turmoil

Earth, Atlantic Ocean.

The mythological island of Atlantis.

Nestled between the American continents and the vast African coast, Atlantis stretched across a colossal five hundred and fifty-five kilometers in one direction. Surrounded by towering mountains and featuring a vast, oblong-shaped central plain, the island was a world unto itself, hidden from the outside for millennia. In the heart of this legendary land lay the primary inhabited area, a grand city nine hundred and twenty meters in diameter.

This city, home to one of the dominant factions within the I-CA Central Command, housed the enigmatic and powerful Atlanteans. These inhabitants considered themselves the rightful rulers of humanity. Given the island's mastery over cutting-edge technology—especially in the fields of high-energy particle physics and nuclear sciences—their claims weren't entirely unfounded. Atlantis, with its unparalleled technological prowess, believed it stood at the pinnacle of human civilization.

The governance of Atlantis rested in the hands of the Ten Kings, each bearing an inherited title and ruling one of the ten autonomous cities scattered across the island.

At the center of Atlantis lay its most striking feature: a massive pyramid surrounded by four colossal towers. Atop the pyramid, a metallic spire extended into the sky, flanked by several rotating discs, all spinning at precise speeds. This intricate construct emitted a thin, continuous beam of ionized energy that pierced the sky like a lighthouse, hinting at its advanced technological origins.

Inside the pyramid, in a grand hall bathed in a pale glow from unknown energy sources, the Ten Kings of Atlantis sat around a vast circular table. Each wore an expression of quiet authority, their gazes intense as they deliberated on matters that would shape the future of humanity. This was the heart of Atlantis, a place of ancient power and futuristic technology, and the pulse of one of Earth's greatest mysteries.

All eyes were fixed on one man: King Atlas, the de facto ruler of Atlantis.

"Damage report," he commanded, his voice a calm but powerful directive that reverberated through the hall.

Though he appeared no older than a man in his twenties, the truth was far more impressive. King Atlas's actual age exceeded fifty, yet the superior genetic engineering of the Atlanteans had gifted him with the youthful appearance and vitality of someone decades younger. The average Atlantean lived well over a century and a half, but those with Atlas's rare genetic lineage could extend their lifespan to nearly three hundred years. His sapphire-like pupils, a sign of the most advanced genetic composition, gleamed with a cold, focused intensity as they landed on King Azaes, seated beside him.

Azaes, the master of Atlantis's technological marvels, shuddered under the weight of that gaze. He quickly cleared his throat before speaking, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Among the core components, only the Electromagnetic Field Generator sustained significant damage. The Electrostatic Generator was overloaded completely and must be replaced. The hull integrity within the impact radius has been critically compromised, requiring immediate restructuring. Our weapon systems... they've been rendered entirely offline. The Naval Station now drifts—a massive piece of debris in space. And as for the casualties… we've lost twenty of our people. The remaining officers have been ordered to board the dreadnought."

As Azaes concluded his report, a weighty silence fell across the room. The grim faces of the Ten Kings reflected their collective rage, simmering beneath a veneer of composure. This wasn't merely an act of sabotage; it was a brazen provocation—a challenge to their supremacy. The sheer cost of rebuilding the Naval Station was staggering, and the loss of their prized space weaponry left them vulnerable.

King Atlas, still as stone, closed his eyes. For a few long moments, he breathed deeply, processing the gravity of the situation. His mind was a vast, calculating machine, racing through potential strategies. When he finally reopened his eyes, his gaze swept over the assembled kings. Each of them waited in anxious anticipation for the next command.

Atlas spoke, his voice carrying the authority of a god, unshakable and decisive, ready to respond to the provocation with all the might of Atlantis.

"Enemy status."

The words left King Atlas's lips like a cold command, and a ripple of shock passed through the room. By designating the other faction as an enemy, he had escalated the situation to a level none had anticipated.

King Azaes, still shaken, cleared his throat and responded, "The enemy has entered full defensive mode. Their dreadnought has disengaged from the docks, and energy signatures indicate they're ready for retaliation. The entire Naval Station is locked down... and there are signs that the Being is awakening in the core."

At the mention of the Being, an ominous silence fell. The room had been filled with hardened rulers, but this revelation sent a palpable shock through even the most stoic of the Kings. The Being—an entity of great power, long dormant—was rumored to be a force beyond any conventional weapon.

For a fleeting moment, even King Atlas seemed shaken. His sapphire eyes dimmed with unease, but it was brief. He exhaled deeply, gathering himself before speaking words that stunned every person in the room.

"If they seek war," he began, his voice hardening, "we shall give them one. It is time to reclaim what is rightfully ours."

His gaze swept the council once more, a chilling resolve filling the air.

***

Space, I-CA Naval Station Poseidon.

The spaceport, situated on the far side of the Naval Station, remained relatively unscathed by the recent attack. Docked in the massive port was the other dreadnought of the I-CA Naval Command, a colossal vessel stretching four hundred meters in length with a beam width of one hundred meters. It resembled a deadly predator lurking in the void, poised and silent.

All dreadnought-class space vessels of the I-CA followed a standard design configuration: a single heavy-class weapon system for maximum destructive power, multiple sub-weapons for close-range combat and defense, an electromagnetic field generator to shield against cosmic radiation, and an engine block that housed the power reactor, life support systems, deep-space communication arrays, and state-of-the-art multi-purpose radars. At the heart of it all was the command center.

Inside the command center, the crew was immersed in pre-launch checks, their movements efficient and precise. The command deck was divided into various functional stations, with the captain's chair located centrally. Seated there was a man wearing the I-CA Naval Command uniform, adorned with the captain's insignia on one side and a trident emblem on the other. His posture was straight and commanding, his deep blue eyes betraying his elite lineage. His well-defined features and sharp eyebrows framed an expression of authority.

This was Captain Zero. His name carried weight across the I-CA fleets, known for his ruthless tactics and unparalleled precision in battle.

"Captain, message from the Council," came the voice of First Officer Jessica, who stood beside him. She too shared the same elite lineage, her blue pupils a mark of her descent. Jessica had known Zero since their youth, growing up together in the rigid, hierarchical society that had molded them. Despite her gender—often seen as a disadvantage by their people—she had earned her place through sheer strength and tenacity. But what truly set her apart was her unique ability to temper Captain Zero's often cruel and calculated nature. She was the one person who could keep him in check.

Zero's gaze flickered to her, a brief acknowledgment as he awaited the contents of the message, his fingers resting casually on the armrests of his chair.

"Let's hear it," he said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a man accustomed to command. His eyes narrowed as the holographic screen flickered to life, revealing the face of King Atlas.

"We greet His Majesty!"

The command deck of the dreadnought went silent as every officer on board stood at attention, offering a salute. King Atlas acknowledged the gesture with a simple wave, his gaze shifting to Captain Zero as he began to speak.

"Captain, before I relay my orders, I'd like to hear your assessment of the situation."

King Atlas's deep voice echoed through the command deck. Tension gripped the crew as they anxiously awaited their captain's response. Many feared that their notoriously unpredictable leader might recommend a swift, retaliatory strike against the enemy. But Jessica, standing at Zero's side, knew better. Captain Zero may have been ruthless, but he was far from reckless.

"My King," Zero began, his voice steady and calculated, "the enemy currently holds the advantage. Our people are stranded aboard the station, and my dreadnought remains the only line of defense we have. Our immediate priority should be ensuring their safety. Engaging the enemy now, while they're in a heightened state of alert—especially with 'that' being awakened—would be unwise. We need patience. They cannot stay on edge forever."

His calm, emotionless tone carried a clarity that allowed the officers on deck to exhale, relieved. Jessica, who had trusted in his strategic thinking, allowed a subtle smile to touch her lips.

King Atlas, his holographic form towering over the crew, nodded thoughtfully. "Wise as always, Captain. Maintain your vigilance and keep your dreadnought on high alert. We will prepare for a rendezvous should the enemy escalate further. The I-CA Central Command is already in discussions with the High Command about a rescue operation for our people. Hold your position, and await further instructions."

The projection faded, leaving the crew to their preparations. Captain Zero remained stoic, his mind already calculating the next steps. Despite the tension, one thing was clear—he would not be provoked into reckless action. His eyes, cold and piercing, were locked on the holographic battlefield map as the crew resumed their duties in silence.

I-CA High Command. Moon.

Rear Admiral Amelia Valerie stood at the helm of the command center, her eyes fixed on the console as orders from the higher-ups came through. Despite her desire to remain neutral in the brewing conflict between the two factions, she had been given a direct command: facilitate the rescue of the stranded personnel aboard Naval Station Poseidon.

Though her instincts screamed to avoid entanglement, the directive from above left no room for argument. Frustration etched into her features, she let out a resigned sigh before issuing the necessary orders.

"Prepare the dropships," she commanded, her voice sharp with restrained irritation.

Within minutes, ten sleek dropships, each with the capacity to carry twenty evacuees, launched from High Command's hangar. Their mission was clear: retrieve the personnel from Poseidon and deliver them safely to I-CA Central Command on Earth's southern hemisphere.

Valerie watched the ships as they shot through the vacuum of space, her mind racing. They were waiting for this moment.

She clenched her fists, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Every instinct told her that the enemy was preparing to strike at the most opportune moment, and she could only hope that the rescue wouldn't trigger something far worse.

"I just hope this doesn't escalate any further," she muttered to herself, eyes narrowing as the dropships disappeared from view. "Damn it."

Tension hung in the air, and as Valerie sat back in her command chair, she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that the worst was yet to come.

The Island of Atlantis.

King Atlas and the Ten Kings gathered in the grand council chamber, their voices tense as they debated retaliation strategies for the ongoing crisis. The rescue operation to recover their personnel was still underway, but the question of how to respond loomed heavily over them.

King Gadeiros, the twin brother of King Atlas, was the first to speak. "We've received word from the opposing faction. They claim one of our own—an individual bearing the symbol of Atlantis—hijacked the station and initiated the attack."

A ripple of disbelief ran through the room. King Mestor, always quick to anger, slammed his fist on the table. "What sophistry! Hijacking? Are their defenses so pitiful that a single individual could breach them? They're looking for a scapegoat—trying to pin the blame on some non-existent third party!"

His outburst was met with a sharp, icy gaze from King Atlas, which silenced him immediately. The room fell quiet, all eyes turning to their leader.

"Let's focus on facts," Atlas said calmly, then turned his attention to King Elasippos, whose city had long been responsible for Atlantis' technological advancements. "What about the Defense Turrets? Could they target the station?"

King Elasippos exhaled deeply before responding. "They can target the Naval Station, yes. But it's complicated. The turrets require time to charge, and we would need to drop our energy shielding to fire them. That would expose our location to every faction out there. Worse, the recoil from a full-powered shot would cause catastrophic tsunamis—destroying our coastal cities and infrastructure. We would pay a heavy price for such a strike."

Grim expressions filled the chamber. The Defense Turrets, ancient weapons designed to protect Atlantis from enemies of a forgotten era, had never been fired at full strength. To do so now would be a dangerous gamble.

King Ampheres, a renowned strategist, spoke next, deep in thought. "What if we regulate the energy output? We wouldn't completely destroy their station, but we could severely damage it—enough to force a retreat, at least."

King Elasippos considered this. "It's possible. A controlled shot would spare us the worst of the damage. Their Naval Station wouldn't be obliterated, but they'd certainly feel the blow."

King Atlas leaned back, eyes narrowing as he weighed their options. Then, after a tense silence, he made his decision. "Ampheres, you will lead this operation. I authorize the use of the Defense Turrets, but only after the rescue mission is completed. Make sure the energy output is controlled—our priority is to weaken them without risking Atlantis."

He then turned to King Diaprepes, the military leader of Atlantis. "Ready the ground forces and have them on standby. The moment our shielding drops, we're vulnerable to counterattack. Ensure the border fortresses are on high alert."

The Kings exchanged glances before nodding. With the orders given, they filed out of the council chamber, each preparing for the imminent conflict.

The rescue operation from Naval Station Poseidon had concluded smoothly, and all personnel were safely transferred to the Central Command Center without incident. However, within the Command Center of Naval Station Lemegeton, tension was mounting.

Admiral Daniel, a seasoned leader and one of the top-ranking officers of the faction behind Lemegeton, paced as he asked his officers for updates. "Anything?" he asked, his voice calm but demanding.

"Negative, Admiral. The High Command's dropships have almost completed their transfer of personnel," an officer reported, his hands deftly moving over the control panels. Just as the words left his mouth, alarms blared.

Beep. Beep.

An officer's voice cut through the noise. "Admiral, the opposing dreadnought has locked its weapons on us. Energy signatures suggest they're preparing to fire."

The Admiral's eyes snapped to the main screen, which now showed a magnified image of the enemy dreadnought. The readings on the screen confirmed it—a massive spike in energy signature was detected, indicating imminent weapon deployment.

"Damn it!" Admiral Daniel barked. "Activate countermeasures! Prepare for full defense. What's the status on our dreadnought?"

Another officer quickly replied, "Admiral, our dreadnought is still undergoing repairs. Engineers report it's non-operational."

Admiral Daniel cursed under his breath, his mind racing. "If they fire on us, this could mean full-scale war. We cannot let this escalate. But if they don't trust our claims... then we're left with no choice but to prepare for the worst."

Outside the Naval Station, every weapon system on Lemegeton was now locked onto the opposing dreadnought, ready to respond in kind the moment any projectile was detected. The station's automated targeting systems calculated intercept trajectories for the expected railgun fire, preparing for a volley of counterattacks.

Yet Admiral Daniel couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Was this really the brink of war, or was the opposing faction bluffing? Could they be testing the waters, pushing them to see if they'd flinch? And above all, was this truly the work of some rogue agent, or was there a more calculated plan at play?

The Admiral stared at the massive dreadnought on the screen. One wrong move, one misinterpretation, and the situation could spiral out of control. With lives at stake and the balance of power on a knife's edge, Admiral Daniel clenched his fist.

"Hold your positions," he ordered. "We're not firing first. Not yet."

While the Naval Station remained fixated on the enemy dreadnought, on the outer coast of Atlantis, a colossal structure began to stir, like a beast waking from a long slumber. This immense construct, with a barrel stretching over a thousand meters, was the famed Defense Turret of Atlantis. Energy channels lining its surface pulsed with power as they funneled immense energy toward the central compressor. The once-dormant turret now slowly rotated, preparing for a shot that would shake the heavens.

Inside the towering pyramid at the heart of Atlantis, King Ampheres stood before a large display screen, his eyes locked onto the energy signature readings of the turret. The hum of machinery and the chatter of his top officers filled the room, but his focus remained unbroken.

"Stabilize power at twenty-five percent," he commanded, his voice resolute. "Charge the magnetic coils, and when they reach twenty percent, divert power from the shields to the turret. The moment I give the order, we drop the shields, fire, and immediately restore them. There is no room for error. Understood?"

A chorus of voices responded in unison, "YES, KING!"

The officers surrounding him were some of Atlantis's finest, each handpicked for their expertise. The room buzzed with precision and determination as they prepared to execute the delicate operation.

"Patch me through to Captain Zero," King Ampheres ordered.

Within seconds, the holographic image of Captain Zero flickered to life on a nearby screen.

"How are things on your end, Captain?" Ampheres asked.

"The enemy's attention is focused entirely on us. They have no idea what's coming," Captain Zero replied, his voice steady and filled with the calm confidence of a seasoned warrior.

King Ampheres exhaled deeply, the tension palpable. The energy reading for the turret ticked up—twenty-five percent. The time had come.

"We're ready, King," an officer confirmed.

"Lock onto the target," Ampheres ordered.

Outside, the massive turret let out a low, mechanical groan as it slowly rotated into position. The heavy barrel lifted into the air, adjusting to a sixty-degree angle, aimed directly at Naval Station Lemegeton.

The room held its collective breath. The moment of truth had arrived.

King Ampheres glanced around the room, catching the anxious yet determined expressions of his officers. His own gaze hardened with resolve.

For Atlantis, he thought.

Then, with a voice of unyielding authority, he gave the order: "FIRE!"

The colossal barrel glowed an intense blue as the power surged through it. At that precise moment, the shields enveloping Atlantis flickered off, and the beam—bright and blinding—shot upward, piercing through the cloud-covered skies with unstoppable force, heading directly for its target.

"Shot fired! Diverting power back to the shields! Shielding at ten percent and rising!" The reports came in rapid succession as the turret operators moved swiftly to restore Atlantis's defenses.

On a distant mountain, King Diaprepes stood with a thousand elite soldiers, watching the beam slice through the atmosphere. The soldiers erupted in cheers, their morale soaring as the brilliance of Atlantis's strike lit up the sky. Yet Diaprepes remained vigilant, scanning the horizon for any sign of retaliation or counterattack. His mind was focused, ready to respond to any threat that might follow in the wake of their assault.

As the sky dimmed once more, the soldiers' cheers echoed across the land, but King Diaprepes remained on high alert. They had struck first, but now Atlantis had to brace for what came next.