War?
Lemegeton.
A suffocating tension gripped the command module of the Naval Station. The dim glow of control panels cast flickering shadows as Admiral Daniel stood at the center of an intricate formation, his black uniform overlaid with a crimson-trimmed ceremonial cloak. Embedded in its fabric were glowing red sigils, pulsating in sync with the ship's energy core.
Four officers encircled him, standing in precise quadrants—front, back, left, and right. Unlike the Admiral, their robes bore no sigils, signifying their roles as conduits rather than initiators.
In the corner, the station's commanding officer wiped sweat from his forehead. He had heard rumors of high-ranking officials engaging in protocols that allowed communication—and even direct interface—with them. But seeing it unfold before his own eyes was an entirely different experience.
'Who would have thought it was true…'
His thoughts were cut short as Admiral Daniel began the invocation.
"I invoke Thee, the Terrible and Invisible God: Who dwellest in the Void Place of the Spirit:-"
"Arogogorobraō: Sothou."
"Modoriō: Phalarthaō: Döö: Apé, the Unmanifested One."
"Receive my signal and respond."
The sigils on Daniel's cloak flared, casting an eerie crimson light across the chamber. The air around them shimmered, distorting as though reality itself was beginning to fracture. The terminal displays flickered erratically, flooded with unreadable glyphs.
The connection had been made.
The ritual intensified. A massive sigil, glowing with an ominous violet light, expanded outward, surrounding Admiral Daniel at its core. The intricate patterns pulsed, radiating an unnatural energy that distorted the very air around them. The infernal aura it emitted sent chills through the few remaining onlookers.
Standing in absolute concentration, Admiral Daniel's eyes remained shut as he focused on the rite—one he referred to as "The Address Unto the Spirit Upon His Coming."
—Beep—
—Beep—
—Beep—
—Beep—
A shrill alarm shattered the eerie silence. The commanding officer's expression darkened, but he knew better than to interfere with the summoning. Breaking the ritual at this stage could lead to catastrophic consequences. Gritting his teeth, he turned on his heel and hurriedly exited the chamber, heading straight for the Command Center.
Upon arrival, he found his officers in a frenzy—urgent calls flared across the consoles, emergency reports flooded the system, and personnel darted between stations.
"Status report!" he barked.
"Commander, sensors have detected an external energy lock-on targeting the station," an officer relayed.
The commanding officer's jaw tightened. He forced himself to remain composed. "Is it their dreadnought?"
"Negative, sir. The energy signature originates from the planet's surface. Frequency analysis suggests a high-caliber railgun battery, but the reading is faint—we can't confirm."
Another officer swiftly cut in—
—[WARNING]—
—[WARNING]—
—[ALL PERSONNEL EVACUATE TO SAFETY]—
The station's onboard quantum AI blared its emergency alert through every corridor.
A single moment of stunned silence passed—
Then, chaos erupted.
"Commander! The energy levels just spiked—it's beyond the Naval Station's safety threshold! We need to evacuate, now!"
The officer's voice trembled with barely restrained panic. Fear had already taken hold of the crew, their frantic movements betraying their desperate search for an escape.
The commanding officer's expression tightened. He scanned the room, his gaze flicking over the chaos unfolding around him. Then, he took a deep breath. His thoughts raced back to Admiral Daniel—and the ritual.
"Open a station-wide voice channel," he ordered.
A moment later, a green light on the console signaled the connection. He steadied himself.
"All personnel, this is the Commander speaking. We have confirmed an active energy lock-on from a planetary weapon—one with the power to annihilate this station. But there is no need for fear. The Admiral is with us, and you shall witness the strength of our faction first hand. Remain at your posts. Do not panic. May the Almighty watch over us."
With that, the transmission ended. Silence hung in the Command Center for a moment. Then, whispers of disbelief rippled through the officers—until it happened.
—Outside the Naval Station—
A brilliant blue beam of concentrated energy erupted from the planet's surface, tearing through the atmosphere at near-relativistic speed. It pierced the clouds, cutting a straight path toward Naval Station Lemegeton.
Then—something impossible occurred.
The black void of space above the station fractured. A massive violet rift ignited in purple flames, splitting apart like a shattered mirror. Ethereal mist poured from the breach, swirling ominously. Within the rift, something moved—something vast, clawing at the edges of reality, held back only by unseen restraints.
The beam closed in.
Then, from within the rift—
A colossal fist emerged.
The monstrous appendage dwarfed the station itself, its surface wreathed in writhing purple mist. Slowly, it extended a single finger toward the incoming energy blast. The moment they touched, the devastating blue beam was absorbed—vanishing into the abyss.
Then, the fist moved again.
With deliberate precision, it extended its pinky finger—and in that instant, every officer in the Command Center felt it.
A wave of primal terror surged through their minds, an overwhelming force that suffocated their very souls. Gasps echoed through the room—some clutched at their chests, struggling to breathe.
Then, it was gone.
A single ember of violet flame flickered into existence at the tip of the pinky.
It descended, drifting with eerie stillness toward the planet below.
Yet—at the last moment—it changed course.
Without warning, the ember shot forward in a straight line, its new destination unknown.
—Moments Before the Counterattack—
Aboard the I-CA Naval Dreadnought Poseidon, Captain Zero stood motionless, his eyes locked onto the live feed of the battlefield. He and his First Officer, Jessica, watched in stunned silence as the planetary defense turret fired upon Naval Station Lemegeton. But when the rift appeared—when the very fabric of space fractured above the station—every fiber of Captain Zero's being screamed in warning.
His instincts, honed through years of warfare, sent ice-cold terror coursing through his veins.
He turned sharply toward Jessica.
"Weapons systems online—NOW! Target: Naval Station Lemegeton. FIRE AT WILL!"
His voice thundered through the command deck.
For a moment, silence reigned. Officers exchanged bewildered glances, hesitating at the unthinkable order. But there was no time for doubt. The rail-gun batteries had already reached full charge. Without delay, the dreadnought's main heavy-weapon rail-gun fired, unleashing a kinetic projectile at hypersonic velocity toward the enemy station.
—Back at Lemegeton—
The purple ember floating through space abruptly intercepted the incoming rail-gun round.
No explosion. No impact.
Something far more terrifying occurred.
The projectile, composed of 90% pure energy and 10% metallic payload, should have torn through anything in its path with devastating force. Yet, the moment it touched the ember, it stopped.
All kinetic energy vanished in an instant. The metallic core disintegrated into ash—swallowed whole by the violet spark. Then, as if its purpose had been fulfilled, the ember flickered out of existence.
Inside Lemegeton's Central Module—
The Admiral collapsed to one knee.
A deep shudder passed through the station as the rift above space trembled—then snapped shut like a wound healing over. The massive fist that had emerged from the void quivered momentarily before dissolving into nothingness.
Admiral Daniel coughed, a thin line of blood trickling from his lips. Around him, his four subordinates staggered, their bodies wracked with exhaustion. Each one coughed up blood, their faces pale.
The chamber doors slid open, and the Commanding Officer rushed inside. His eyes darted from the trembling Admiral to his wounded subordinates. Without hesitation, he activated his comms.
"Medical team, to the central module—NOW!"
A squad of medics hurried in moments later, carefully transporting the weakened officers to the med-bay.
Admiral Daniel exhaled a deep sigh. "All that effort... only to turn to ashes."
"Admiral, please," the Commanding Officer interjected. "Because of this, we saved the station."
The Admiral remained silent for a moment. Then, his voice came cold and measured.
"Did we trace the origin?"
"Yes, Admiral. We've isolated the approximate coordinates. But there's something… strange."
The Commanding Officer hesitated.
"That region of space—there shouldn't be anything there. No known installations. No habitable locations."
The Admiral's eyes narrowed.
"Interesting. It seems our enemies have been hiding more than we thought."
He turned away, his gaze dark and unreadable. "Transmit the coordinates to HQ. The ground team will handle the rest."
As he spoke, an unnatural chill crept into the room. The air shimmered with a fleeting distortion—almost as if something had been watching. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.
For now, no one spoke of the rift. No one questioned the fist that had vanished into the void.
But deep down, they all knew.
Something had reached out from beyond. And something had reached back.
—I-CA High Command, Lunar Headquarters—
In the heart of I-CA's Moon Base, Rear Admiral Amelia Valerie stood in the command center, staring at the tactical readouts in disbelief. The sheer power displayed in the last engagement defied all known records. Both factions had unveiled hidden weapons—each more terrifying than the last.
Without a word, she left the room and entered her private office. Connecting to the highest chain of command, she relayed everything that had transpired.
A response came moments later:
[No need to be concerned. They have their cards. And so do we. Maintain neutrality. Avoid unnecessary casualties.]
A beat of silence. Then:
[Stand down, Admiral. Do not provoke the enemy.]
She clenched her fists. So that was it.
There would be no retaliation.
No escalation.
For now.
—Atlantis—
In the hidden heart of Atlantis, deep beneath the oceans, King Atlas sat within a massive chamber. Around him, the Seven Kings of Atlantis observed the battle footage in silence.
Each ruler bore a different expression—some grim, others furious. Yet King Atlas remained calm.
They all knew the truth.
If Captain Zero had hesitated for even a second…
Atlantis would have been annihilated.
"There is no time for regret," Atlas said, his voice firm. "The enemy cannot use this attack again. But now that our position has been compromised, we must remain vigilant."
His golden eyes burned with resolve.
"Mobilize the troops. Fortify the defenses. I want eyes on every sector of Atlantis. And send word to Captain Zero—he is to remain on high alert."
Orders were dispatched with military precision. War was brewing.
Meanwhile—
—A Darkened Chamber, Location Unknown—
A shrouded group of individuals sat in absolute silence. Then, one voice cut through the darkness.
"Dispatch Phenex-Squad."
A consensus was reached.
That night, a twenty-man team of elite operatives departed aboard a modified MH-60 stealth transport. Their destination: the coordinates intercepted by Lemegeton.
At the helm of the mission was a thin, pale-faced youth.
One of his squad members chuckled. "Captain, any thoughts on the mission?"
The pale-faced man turned, flashing a disturbing grin.
"What is there to think about?" he whispered. "We go. We kill. We return. Simple."
The squad members grinned in return.
Above them, the stars bore silent witness as their aircraft disappeared into the abyss.
—
Deep within the base where Jason and Captain Brad had landed, the very moment the rift tore open in space, a screen flickered to life. Encoded messages scrolled rapidly across its surface, a cascade of cryptic data flowing at an unreadable speed. Then, suddenly, the stream halted.
A final message appeared:
[Report being transmitted.]
—
High above, between the two I-CA Naval Stations, at an altitude too distant for any standard detection systems, a faint light flickered within the depths of EDS—then vanished into obscurity.
—
Perhaps neither faction of the I-CA was aware that their deadly clash had drawn the gaze of those lurking in the deepest shadows of the planet.
Upon a colossal mountain peak, a woman with an imperious demeanor stood motionless. Her gaze pierced across the fabric of distance, locking onto the purple rift that marred the void. A frigid glint flickered in her eyes before she turned away, disappearing into the depths of the mountain.
Elsewhere, in a sprawling metropolis, another woman stood on a high-rise balcony, her vision unimpeded by the walls and structures of the city. Her eyes bore through the layers of obstruction, settling upon Atlantis and its formidable Planetary Defensive Turret. A frown creased her brow, her expression unreadable.
On the snow-covered peak of an ancient mountain, a man sat cross-legged, clad only in a simple sarong. His upper body was bare, his skin untouched by the biting winds. The moment the rift appeared, his eyes flickered open—briefly, just for a moment. Then, with the same lack of concern, he closed them again, unfazed.
Within the courtyard of a solitary temple, atop an immense pillar, a man clad in a kasaya diligently swept away the dust. Then, as if sensing the disturbance, he slowly turned his gaze skyward.
"Hmm… They have grown quite capable."
His voice was calm, contemplative.
"To summon even a mere fraction of his power… impressive. And yet, they forget the true nature of these beings."
Tapping his broom lightly against the ground, he closed his eyes.
"Amitabha."
As his murmur resounded through the temple, an ethereal hymn reverberated across the landscape. The temple's bell, untouched by the wind, swayed, emitting a deep, sonorous chime that rippled through the surroundings.
Opening his eyes, he observed the cosmic battle unfold. The rift quivered. The entity attempting to force its way through trembled against an invisible force, its efforts growing weaker with each passing second.
From the massive hand extending from the void, a single purple ember drifted away—detaching from the pinky of the celestial palm. The monk's gaze followed its descent.
Then, he stomped his foot upon the ground.
"Amitabha. BEGONE."
His voice boomed, resonating with a power beyond mortal comprehension.
The rift contracted. Slowly, inexorably, it sealed itself shut. The last vestiges of its dark energy were snuffed out, leaving nothing behind but silence.
A thin trail of dark red blood slid from the corner of the monk's lips.
Yet, he neither moved nor wavered. His eyes remained locked upon the now-empty sky, his breath steady.
Balance had been restored. For now.