<Memory is the thread that binds yesterday to today and tomorrow.>
Snow was falling. Those white-clad flakes landed upon the earth, blanketing the world in a graceful cover.
It was an evening like any other during the long winter. Nature was loud: waters howled as they crashed against the rocks, the earth held its eternal calm, and frozen lakes brimmed with life beneath their icy shells. Everything was as it usually was—except for the rush of streaks traveling across the sky.
The crimson radiance contrasted sharply with the perpetual tranquility of the world.
A few fragments broke away from the heavens, descending to the earth, but they caused no great commotion—until that singular moment.
As though slicing through the atmosphere, a low rumble shook the air. At first, it was barely perceptible, a distant whisper like the harbinger of a storm. Then the sound transformed, growing stronger, morphing into a terrible vibration that resonated deep into the earth's core.
On the horizon, the sky seemed to split apart, then shatter into a thousand pieces. Within the crimson sea, one luminous point dominated, illuminating the heavens with a trail of fire. It was as if a star, burdened with divine retribution, was hurling itself toward the earth.
The impact was beyond measure.
First, there was a blinding flash, a light so radiant it turned night into a twilight day across the region. Then came the shockwave, a titanic blast that tore the world from its monotonous routine.
The ground undulated under the force, like a stormy sea. Fissures spread, cracking open with a sinister creak, swallowing roots, rocks, and every trace of life in their wake. The frozen lake shattered under the pressure, sending razor-sharp ice shards flying.
A deluge of scorching ash began to blanket the world, mingling with the pristine snow, which took on a dark hue and an intense, fiery aura. The air became unbreathable, choked with acrid dust and unidentifiable gases. Survivors of this catastrophe, if any remained, ran blindly, burrowed into their dens, or wailed their despair, lost in this chaos of fire and ice.
The chaos was absolute, nature upended; the blast preceded devastation that reshaped the terrain into a nightmarish scene.
Gradually, the silence returned—oppressive, broken only by the crackling of fires and the distant sound of falling trees. The world seemed to groan under the weight of this sudden destruction.
In the distance, where the asteroid had struck, a column of smoke and gas claimed the atmosphere, spreading like a virus, contaminating its surroundings.
Floods and storms followed. An apocalypse cloaked the world as earthquakes formed, tsunamis raced toward distant shores, dormant volcanoes awoke to scream their fiery jets, and the sky lost its luster, shrouded in toxic clouds.
The essence of life was altered, distorted.
Despite all the devastation, on the grand chessboard of time, it was but a fleeting moment. Nature slowly began to reclaim its dominion, with time as its ally.
Time stretched on, elusive, in an eternal dance of seasons that succeeded and followed one another, each leaving an ephemeral mark on the landscape.
Years passed like the pages of a book flipped carelessly, yet each image, each word, etched an indelible memory in the mind.
Winter held dominion in this era. It settled silently, its snow-laden cloak covering the land, rendering it uniform, motionless, almost frozen in a suspended moment. Trees, stripped of their leaves, extended their barren branches toward the leaden sky as if imploring the warmth of a veiled sun.
The icy breath of the wind slipped through the branches, making them sing in a cold murmur—a distant sigh that faded into the vast whiteness. Days grew short, nights long, and the world seemed to enter hibernation, holding its breath in quiet anticipation.
After winter passed, the world seemed to have already forgotten the trauma it had endured. Nature reclaimed its rights. Snow had covered everything, hiding, freezing, and silencing all traces.
Then, one day, the frost began to melt. Small dewdrops slid off dead leaves still clinging to branches. The earth warmed under the hesitant rays of the sun. Spring arrived, bursting with life, like a breath released after a long slumber. Buds blossomed into tender green shoots, leaves sprouted from the soil in a kaleidoscope of color, and thawed rivers resumed their joyful courses. Each sunrise stretched the light further, slipping between the trees, caressing the reborn moss, and filling the air with the sweet scent of early flowers. Birds sang once again, their melodies carrying a renewed hope.
Here was the unyielding vitality of nature, the impartial rhythm of life itself.
Some things could change; others could not. The earth, in its essence, remained steadfast.
Time flowed on, and spring gave way to summer.
Warmth spread over the land like a gentle wave. The sun scorched the sky with vivid blue, while fields turned to gold. Trees, heavy with sap, offered welcoming shadows—temporary shelters in the sea of light. Even the mutated insects carried on their natural rhythms, swirling in clouds around flowers often too small to hold them. Rivers gleamed in calm reflections beneath the infinite sky.
The air was hot, filled with the aroma of tall grass and ripe fruits hanging precariously from branches, resisting gravity's pull. Days seemed endless; nights passed in an instant. Time appeared to bend under the weight of the summer heat.
Autumn soon followed, inevitably. It announced itself with a chill, a refreshing breeze that rewarded those who had braved summer's intensity. The green of the trees turned to red, yellow, then brown, transforming into a brilliant mosaic before cascading in a rain of dead leaves. The ground was carpeted with memories. Each step in the golden forest echoed like the crunch of passing time. Nights grew cooler, softer. Daylight dimmed, less commanding.
The world lived through the flow of the seasons. The cycle resumed endlessly, marking time with its delicate imprint. One season after another, the world seemed unchanged, perpetually unaware of what had been.
Yet the scars remained. An indelible mark had been left upon the earth.
Seasonal cycles came and went, bringing their own transformations. But those who could have noted these changes were gone. No one walked the earth anymore. Vegetation and beasts had become the land's rulers.
For a time, the world seemed extraordinarily serene. Life blossomed in every corner. The earth was peaceful, animals roamed freely, reveling in the renewed joy that belonged to the natural cycle of things.
In a secluded part of this world, within a vast forest where trees soared dozens of meters high, herbivores grazed in the grass, basking in the sunlight that filtered through the leaves. They lived carefree lives.
Yet there was one area in the forest they refused to approach—a strange feeling kept them away.
Oddly, that area was even more lush. Plants of all kinds coexisted, thriving on the richness of the soil.
One might have thought the mystery lay beneath the surface.
There, hidden underground, deeper than the roots of the surrounding trees, at about twenty meters below the surface, lay a solid block made of a peculiar metal alloy. Its shape was unusual, its size a mystery, and how it came to be there was a well-kept secret.
The block plunged deep into the earth, emitting occasional vibrations and faint rustlings that quickly dissipated beneath the layers of soil.
From top to bottom, the block housed five levels. It was a marvel of architecture and design, segmented and compartmentalized. Within it were structures serving various purposes—all explicitly intended for human use.
And indeed, it was inhabited.
Toum… Toum…
A hammer struck repeatedly against a metallic alloy, sending sparks and shards into the air. The sound reverberated through the entire chamber. With each strike, the alloy emitted a resonating hum, transforming visibly under the force of the blows.
"Just a bit more, and it'll be exactly what I need... just a little more effort," Raphael thought.
Wearing a protective helmet, he hammered tirelessly at the alloy, his determination unwavering. Sweat poured from him. Despite the high temperature in the chamber, it was evident that his perspiration was the result of the immense effort he was exerting on the material.
His pale, almost white skin was smeared with soot, and his sweat accentuated his pronounced musculature. Beneath the visor, his chestnut-brown eyes focused intently on the alloy before him. His concentration was absolute—he knew all too well the dangers of losing focus, having paid the price several times before.
In his small but capable hands, the hammer seemed almost like a divine weapon, or one fit for giants. The strength it unleashed was enough to keep others at a respectful distance. Occasionally, they cast glances his way, though it was impossible to discern their thoughts. Not that Raphael cared in the slightest.
He continued his work until someone entered the room and called out to him.
"Hey, hey... I know you can hear me!" shouted the newcomer.
The young man who had entered had a scrawny appearance, with hollow cheeks and a frail, hunched posture that suggested a spinal injury. He did not exude any aura of menace, especially not in this harsh environment.
Yet, the moment he entered, most eyes turned toward him. None dared ignore his presence. It wasn't him they revered but the authority he represented.
Raphael, however, remained indifferent to all of it.
The hammer blows continued to echo in the room as Raphael ignored the new arrival, aware of his presence but choosing not to acknowledge it.
Veins bulged on the young man's forehead. In truth, he relished this feeling—the sense of superiority his position afforded him. The attention of others, the glances that followed him even without cause, fed his ego. The fact that Raphael seemed entirely unimpressed only irritated him further.
Even so, he held back his anger and moved closer to Raphael, closing the gap between them. He reached out to grab Raphael's shoulder when the massive hammer barely missed his head.
Sensing the other's approach, Raphael swung his hammer backward. A few centimeters closer, and the sound of bones shattering would have filled the room.
He stopped just in time, watching as the young man's face broke out in a cold sweat. Whether intentional or not, it had been a narrow escape.
Once the initial fright subsided, the young man couldn't contain his fury. His pale skin flushed red with anger as he exploded, "Are you insane, you... you bastard?! Were you trying to kill me?! What makes you think you're so special? I swear, I swear if you..."
Raphael, finally removing his protective helmet and ear guards, turned to face the young man. Sticking a finger in his ear, he barely concealed a smirk as he spoke.
"Could you stop yelling for a second? You're louder than Mjolnir."
He feigned an exaggerated sigh of annoyance and continued, "And what's this about me trying to kill you? Why would I waste time squashing a leech that lives only off others?"
Without waiting for a reply, Raphael strode away from the tomato-red Albert, his voice calm but dripping with disdain.
"Also, for the record, you're the one who approached me while I was clearly absorbed in my work. If anything, you put yourself in danger... so don't blame me for your scare."
As he finished, he sat on a makeshift workbench, arranging some tools and materials with deliberate care.
Albert stood frozen, the anger boiling within him evident in his quivering frame. Around them, the onlookers hid barely suppressed smiles, though they quickly averted their gazes and sealed their lips whenever his fiery glare fell upon them.
Raphael, observing this from the corner of his eye, felt a twinge of fatigue. He truly despised interruptions, especially when they jeopardized the progress of a project as important as the one at hand.
"Anyway," Raphael finally broke the silence, his tone laced with boredom, "what do you want this time... little Harchey?"
"Stop calling me that, you bastard!" Albert snapped, his temper flaring once again.
Raphael responded with a mocking chuckle. "The day you stop acting like a lapdog for that guy, maybe I'll bother to remember your name."
Despite the venom in Raphael's words, there was a long history between the two. They had known each other for years, almost growing up together.
Ignoring the jab, Albert glanced at the others in the room. They hastily returned to their tasks, leaving him and Raphael to their private exchange. He approached Raphael, determination etched on his face.
"Albert, stop intimidating everyone," Raphael said without looking up, already engrossed in repairing a small mechanical bird. The tiny device, decapitated at the neck, required delicate precision. "If you don't have anything useful to do, just leave. Some of us have real work to do."
Once close enough, Albert slammed his hand on the table, his voice sharp. "Where is your sister? She's been absent for a while, and you know she has obligations to fulfill."
"So that's what this is about?" Raphael retorted, still not looking at him. "And why would her whereabouts concern you? You're nowhere near her level, my dear Albert," he added with a smirk.
Finally, Raphael turned to see Albert's face contorted in frustration.
"I don't give a damn about her, you bastard," Albert spat. "But you know who sent me."
After savoring the moment of triumph in watching Albert's composure crumble, Raphael returned to the bird in his hands.
"She's probably immersed in one of her research projects," he said nonchalantly. "Tell your master not to bother us. She'll fulfill her commitments. Now, get out. I have work to do."
Albert bit back a retort and left, knowing better than to argue further. As much as he loathed this family, both the elder sister and her younger brother were critical to the base's survival and prosperity. Begrudgingly, he headed off to report back.
On his way out, Albert passed through the kitchens.
The chefs handed him several pre-packed meals, their aroma tantalizing even as the dishes began to cool. His stomach growled, but he resisted the urge to take a bite, settling instead for a piece of bread offered reluctantly by an elderly woman nearby. Stuffing it into his mouth, he made his way to the elevator.
The descent to the fifth sublevel was lengthy.
This bunker extended impressively deep into the earth, its vertical layers designed for autonomy and resilience. Constructed in an ancient era, each floor was engineered to withstand significant seismic shocks, with substantial gaps between levels. The entire structure was fortified by a unique alloy discovered during the so-called Age of Enlightenment.
As the elevator hummed downward, Albert's thoughts drifted. This place, with all its secrets, was both a marvel and a prison. And somewhere, buried deeper than even the lowest floor, lay mysteries that could change everything.
It was the same alloy that Raphael was using in his current project. Universally recognized for its malleability contrasting with its robustness, it was indispensable to their survival.
The different layers of the underground structure each served a specific purpose vital to the whole. The lowest level was primarily dedicated to expansion and the underground exploration of new resources. That's where he was heading.
Sometime later, while still licking his lips, the elevator stabilized. He had reached his destination.
He rushed out of it, navigating through several turns that would lead him to his target.
The floor was rather spacious. Its central area was neatly arranged, with paved paths and bright, sparkling lights. Though the level of care didn't match the upper two floors, the air was still relatively easy to breathe.
However, the farther one moved from the center, the scenery transformed. The air grew thicker, and the fog became almost tangible. This was due to the ongoing expansion efforts.
The task of digging deeper in search of valuable minerals necessary for survival had its downsides. Everyone working there wore triple-filter masks. Aside from the soot that clung to their skin, they weren't significantly affected by the environment.
Here, everyone had a role to play.
Though disparities existed, no one was exempt from their duties. The rules of survival here were starkly different from those of bygone times.
Albert finally arrived at the warehouse where his teammates were resting.
Under the salivating gazes of the workers, he made his way to the back of the warehouse. There, a hulking figure sat on a broken rock, watching everyone with an authoritative gaze.
He resembled the great warriors depicted in Roman legends from a millennium ago. His face bore a few scars, and his piercing eyes seemed to see through people. His once pale skin had accumulated layers of soot, dust, and minerals, forming a carapace-like texture with a distinctive Martian red hue. Beneath his tunic, his strong, sinewy arms and calloused hands gave him an imposing appearance.
He was Harchey, the leader of the underground expansion efforts.
Harchey took the provisions Albert had brought and handed them over to his subordinates, who began distributing them among the increasingly impatient workers.
Then, he led Albert toward the back, asking him, "What did he say about his sister?"
Albert, now timid, avoided his gaze as he struggled to convey the response he had received. He hesitated for a moment, but under the unyielding stare of Harchey, he quickly broke.
"He… he didn't want to answer me," Albert stammered. "He said it's none of my business where she is."
Harchey stared at him for a long time without speaking. Minutes later, he sent Albert back to eat with the others and sat down in a corner, deep in thought. Albert, still tense, had no way of guessing what occupied Harchey's mind at that moment. He hurried back to join the others.
Food rations had been scarce for some time now. Everyone was entitled to their share — an absolute rule. However, the limited quantity posed a significant challenge.
As for the surface, it had become fraught with new dangers since the recent disaster, universally referred to as the Second Catastrophe. The risks were such that the bunker's inhabitants were reluctant to confront them just yet.
Raphael, seated at his makeshift desk, found his mind wandering. A thousand thoughts swirled, colliding occasionally.
Despite his earlier dismissive tirade, he couldn't deny his growing anxiety. He knew full well where his sister was, but that was precisely the issue.
Her current expedition had lasted far longer than usual. She had been gone for three days already, which was highly unusual.
But despite this anxiety, he had complete confidence in her. Amanise was far from being a fragile, defenseless soul; otherwise, how could he have allowed her to undertake such excursions in the first place?
Moreover, she wasn't alone.
At this thought, Raphael's expression relaxed once more.
Life underground wasn't easy. Countless problems constantly surfaced—or rather, descended. The bunker they resided in hadn't been designed for such prolonged use. Even with the ongoing expansion, resources were limited. Food remained critical, hygiene was deteriorating steadily, and while the air quality still fell within acceptable limits, how much longer could that last? Isolation was beginning to take a real toll on the mental state of some individuals, and conflicts were becoming increasingly unavoidable.
Yet, the situation was still far from chaos. A semblance of structure remained intact. Daily life retained a faint air of normalcy.
This illusion of control was indispensable to humanity—the belief that things were still happening according to one's will. It was this perception that allowed most residents to suppress the darker thoughts growing within them in the depths of the underground.
This semblance of normalcy was primarily sustained by the energy source that continuously powered the space.
Whether it was the metallurgy workshop, the expansion floor, the kitchen sector, the care zone, or even the dormitories, everything operated continuously, all reliant on a single energy source. This source kept everything afloat and had never failed them—yet.
It was the very definition of normalcy, the cornerstone of humanity and individuality. It served as their protective pillar.
Thus, they could face the challenges of daily life with pride and dignity.
A slamming door abruptly pulled Raphael out of his reflections. At some point, the tea in his cup had been emptied. He stood decisively and returned to his tasks. Picking up the hammer, he began striking with all his might once again.
The large clock on the wall chimed, its hands aligning at the number seven.
Rufus, a young man with blue hair, brown eyes, a slender frame, and a cap, was responsible for delivering food to the various work sectors.
Earlier, he had failed in his duty, which had prompted Harchey to send Albert to fetch the meal for his team. Rufus knew he would likely face punishment for his lapse unless he could come up with an excellent excuse.
For the evening meal, however, he dared not shirk his responsibilities. Loading the provisions onto his atypical vehicle, he set off for the sector closest to the kitchens.
He was currently on the third underground level, commonly referred to as Triax.
This floor's main structures were the kitchen sector and the care zone. Naturally, there were other installations, but they were of lesser importance compared to these two. Rufus headed to the care zone first.
Thanks to his mode of transport, it didn't take him long to reach his destination, though the distance was not negligible. Upon his arrival, he received a few sharp glares. He immediately lowered his head, apologizing as he made the delivery. This time, it was completed much faster than usual.
The person in charge of the care zone said nothing, already overwhelmed with the absence of his superior. He simply collected the provisions and distributed them with haste.
Rufus, bowing his head once more, quickly turned and left. He barely glanced in the direction of a certain room before mounting his vehicle again.
His next delivery was destined for the metallurgy workshop.
Quadra and Triax were the only two floors close to one another, while the distance to the others was considerable. The metallurgy workshop, located on the level just below Triax, had been constructed in response to an urgent need, and its design deviated from previously applied standards.
The two levels were connected by a sloped lift.
Rufus took this ramp, descending rapidly toward his next destination.
The space on Quadra was far larger than the expansion floor. The corridor stretched endlessly, about ten meters wide and at least three times the height of an average human. Nano-lamps embedded into the walls provided continuous illumination, their radiance eliminating any darkness along the path. These walls were reinforced with a specialized type of metal, exponentially increasing their durability.
The smooth, dark tiles covering the floor absorbed the sound of footsteps, creating an eerie silence in the surroundings. Thankfully, it wasn't long before the roar of the incinerator could be heard. This was one of the two major structures on this level, alongside the metallurgy chamber.
The air carried a metallic scent, though the air filters did an excellent job of maintaining breathable conditions. However, these filters had not been designed for levels below the third floor, and this distinction was noticeable. Despite that, the air remained tolerable.
The wide corridors stretched for considerable distances, branching off frequently. At every critical junction, high-definition screens displayed maps of the area.
Rufus marveled at these wonders as he continued on his route. Having only recently started his delivery duties, he was still fascinated by the architecture of the lower levels, his curiosity often broadening his field of vision beyond reason. Without the maps at the intersections, he would have gotten lost countless times.
He soon arrived at his destination.
In front of him stood an enormous wall resembling a reinforced gate. It extended from floor to ceiling, its start and end indiscernible. Massive initials were engraved on this door in a language Rufus had yet to decipher.
This was the Metallurgy Chamber.
Standing before the immense door, Rufus began to recite,
"Oh work of the earth, master of a once mighty and now forgotten world, may your light of wisdom grant our species survival and salvation."
A moment later, a mechanical click sounded from within the door, which opened to reveal a narrow breach in its center.
The opening was just about twice Rufus's height, which was not very tall to begin with. He squeezed through the "mini" door with his vehicle, and it closed promptly behind him.
He navigated the interior for a few minutes, heading toward the central chamber.
This was Raphael's workshop.
Boom… Boom!!!
Just as he approached, two explosions erupted from inside the chamber.
Rufus froze, fear painted across his face.