In these times, blind compassion can be a death sentence.

The heavy atmosphere of deliberation in the Cancún command center, where the monstrous revelations about Amitiel, Lilith, and human genetic potential were being weighed, shattered in the most literal and terrifying way.

A sudden, unnatural flash tore through the night sky over the Caribbean, followed by the deafening roar of alien metal rending the atmosphere. Seconds later, a titanic impact rocked the Yucatán Peninsula, shaking the base's foundations, toppling equipment, and plunging the lab into momentary darkness broken only by emergency lights and the glow of defensive magic.

"Impact! Unknown massive object has fallen into the sea, less than ten kilometers from shore!" Javier shouted, clutching his console as the screens came back to life, showing a column of steam and black smoke rising from the churning ocean, illuminated by the fires consuming the wreckage of a ship.

The lethargy of philosophical and strategic discussion evaporated. The harsh reality of war, in all its unpredictable fury, had just knocked on their door.

"There are no energy signatures matching the Lyran factions we've contacted, nor any known Netlin!" Enki exclaimed, his golden fingers hovering over an Anunnaki interface he'd managed to keep operational. "Their technology... is anomalous. Distinct."

Curiosity, sharpened by fear and urgency, gripped the group. Who were they? What were they seeking? Were they a new threat, or victims of the conflict ravaging the solar system?

Minutes that seemed like an eternity passed while Merlin and Quetzal reinforced the base's exterior defenses and sent out magical probes to assess the situation. Then, short-range sensors detected movement.

"Multiple vital signals," Elena Rossi reported, her voice strained. "Descending from the wreckage... they're heading toward the shore. There are... several of them."

Through the magical visors and the still-functioning security cameras, they saw the figures. Tall, slender beings, wrapped in what appeared to be tight-fitting silver suits, now torn and smoking. They moved with a strange grace, but their movements were erratic, desperate, stumbling on the sand as they emerged from the surf.

A reconnaissance team composed of Kaelen, several Punishers under Dracula's direct command, and Ek Chuah with a handful of Aluxes was sent with extreme caution to the perimeter of the beach.

When the first aliens reached the shore, they collapsed, exhausted. They were humanoid, but their pale skin had an almost pearly sheen, and their eyes, large and dark, without visible pupils, reflected abysmal terror. They tried to speak, but their throats only produced a series of complex clicks, high-pitched whistles, and harmonic tones that were incomprehensible to humans and mages.

It was then that the psychic pressure hit the Umbrian team at the base, and Aria, with a particular force. They weren't words, but a wave of pure, raw, and universal emotion:

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Aria put her hands to her head, the silent scream echoing in her soul. "I can... I can feel them," she gasped. "They're... terrified. They're running from something... something terrible."

On the beach, Enki, who had joined the reconnaissance team, stepped forward. "Allow me," he said, his voice calm. He listened intently to the aliens' strange sounds. "This dialect... is incredibly archaic. But I recognize roots from one of the sacred languages ​​of the First Lyran Engineers, those who preceded even the Lyreans we met. I can... attempt to translate."

As Enki tried to establish verbal communication, the telepathic anguish of the newcomers continued to bombard the sensitives. Merlin and Quetzal, though more stoic, felt the wave of despair.

But doubt was a cold shadow in everyone's mind.

"Despair," Dracula hissed through the communicator from the beach, his red eyes fixed on the fallen aliens. His voice was a low growl, barely audible over the roar of the sea and the psychic wails. "A tactic as old as fear itself. How do we know they're not a vanguard of Cthulhu, feigning weakness to infiltrate? Or a trap of those Luciferian Netlin, using bait to lure us in?"

Sorcha, at his side, nodded gravely. "Chaos delights in such deceptions. Their terror could be genuine, or a flawless performance."

Even Merlin, sensing the raw agony in the psychic transmission, fought the wariness forged by eons of betrayals. "Their anguish... seems heartbreakingly real," he admitted, "but in these times, blind compassion can It could be a death sentence. We can't offer help without knowing who, or what, we're inviting into our sanctuary."

Aria looked toward the beach, feeling the wave of terror from the aliens and the cold distrust of her own comrades. They were on the brink of destruction, yes, but could they afford to ignore such a desperate cry for help, even if it came from the unknown? Or was prudence the only sensible option when the entire universe seemed to have gone mad? The decision they made in the next few moments could seal their fate, one way or another.