Empyrean Zielle.
"The research subject 'Ail Ddear Gan Teorainn' from the Ail Ddear Project is showing biological singularity and parasitic expansion following an onco-catalytic pattern. This is a singularity drift! It's as if the entire biological and chemical system that constitutes its existence has surpassed the normal entropy threshold!"
DRAP DRAP DRAP.
The sound of hurried footsteps filled the air inside the underground laboratory. A secret lab, hidden from the world, home to one of humanity's most ambitious research projects.
But now, all the hope that had been woven for years seemed to be unraveling. The research subject, which had been passed down and studied for generations to fulfill mankind's ambition, was now exhibiting an unimaginable eclecticogenic anomaly.
If left unchecked, the new universe mankind inhabited after the previous universe's collapse could be doomed once again.
Unfortunately, things were no longer that simple. Complex emotions were already entwined in this matter. Even if it meant gambling the fate of all humanity. Again.
DOKK DOKK DOKK.
"OPEN THE DOOR!" shouted a male scientist, pounding on the door with all his might.
"LET US IN!" yelled a female scientist, a minority among them but with the loudest voice.
"Don't be reckless! Humanity's fate is hanging by a thread!" exclaimed another man as he stripped off his lab coat, revealing a SynthSuit made from ultra-advanced synthetic material that could adapt to any research condition. Though, it was useless in this situation.
A bearded scientist leaned his back against the laboratory door, arms crossed. "Mankind has just risen from total entropy… are we about to repeat the same cycle?"
How did it come to this?
More than a dozen of Empyrean Zielle's finest scientists were trying to break into the main lab where the prototype subject—Prototype Infinity "Ail Ddear Gan Teorainn"—was contained. The room was now sealed by one of the project leaders of the Ail Ddear Project—Iteration '666' Phase Sequence.
"Has anyone managed to contact Professor Hanaia?" one of them asked.
Someone replied while staring anxiously at the SpectraTab in his hand, still trying to breach the main lab's defense system, "No one has. What is he thinking?"
Meanwhile, another scientist, monitoring the information relay to their representatives on planet Earth, now called Sylvaine Macarena, spoke up, "If we don't act fast, it won't just be Allerick Gildas' reputation that gets destroyed…"
"PROFESSOR HANAAAIAAA!"
Inside the lab, Professor Hanaia was about to confront his disappointment with Ail Ddear Gan Teorainn in a more personal way. After all, he had inherited this research from both his parents, who were also scientists here.
"Chef D'œuvre, why did you become like this?" he whispered, staring at the creature inside a large glass tube—something that ranked far lower than the filthiest stone in the universe. Yet now, its existence threatened the entire world.
No specific words could describe its form. It was grotesque yet mesmerizing, making anyone who saw it unable to look away. Its existence was a paradox beyond human comprehension across all eras.
"..."
"You will be destroyed soon. We will never meet again," he murmured as he pressed the underside of his arm against the tube wall.
"What should I do… until that happens?"
He bowed his head, trying to hide the unbearable disappointment. No, it wasn't just disappointment—it was grief. This wasn't merely a scientific failure; this was heartbreak. When love blooms in a place it never should.
*
Sylvaine Macarena.
He was only eight years old when he first set foot inside the Ablaze Wall, which separated the slum area from the luxurious district inhabited by the elites and nobles. Before him stretched a city with cold, sterile, symmetrical, and highly civilized futuristic architecture.
Countless advanced surveillance drones deployed by the High Council of Cosmotellurian Sylvaine Macarena hovered overhead, scrutinizing everyone. It felt less like freedom, more like security under lock and key.
There were also discreet cameras and sophisticated sensors lining the streets, scanning the identities and social statuses of citizens to ensure no illegal inhabitants were present.
Not to mention the high-tech holograms everywhere, displaying advertisements from various private corporations as well as from the High Council of Cosmotellurian Sylvaine Macarena and Empyrean Zielle, constantly broadcasting propaganda messages, trying to control the minds of every citizen.
It was a stark contrast to the slum area where he had lived all this time—organic, chaotic, and filthy.
Yet, instead of being welcoming, all this grandeur made him feel watched, judged, and scrutinized from head to toe.
As he walked among a crowd of other new students he didn't know, Hanasta clutched tightly a small cube-shaped card that could open into a 3D holographic display called a Tesseract Card. It contained the certificate he had just received for achieving the highest entrance exam score.
Special Proctor Gildas. A place where struggle, dreams, ambition, and pride merged for the upper class. But for him?
His innocent eyes swept across the rows of students who looked far more refined than he did, making the difference between their worlds even clearer. Though they all wore the same long-sleeved shirt uniform with special accents on the shoulders, their gazes and facial expressions were entirely different.
Those members of elite families stared at him, walking alone like an anomaly, with a disdainful, rejecting, and cold gaze. As if he was a mistake that should never have been allowed to stand there.
"Unlike where I used to live, the inside of the Ablaze Wall is a small area. They must just be confused to see an unfamiliar kid joining the welcoming ceremony," he thought, trying to stay calm.
However, the longer he walked along the red-bricked path toward the assembly hall, the more suffocating the pressure from those around him became.
He could clearly hear the spiteful whispers.
The judgmental stares that seemed to want to strip him to the bone.
Including the cynical smiles of the well-dressed students who were supposed to be his new peers.
"Do you believe he's from the slum area?"
"No wonder. He smells like poverty."
"He's polluting the air inside the Wall."
"How did he even get into Special Proctor Gildas?"
"Has the school's admission standard dropped?"
"Psst, they say he scored the highest on the entrance exam."
"Oh please, that must be a fluke."
"You're right. He'll crash and burn in the first year."
"Slum dwellers never have good luck in this world."
"Even Empyrean Zielle curses their existence."
Hanasta steadied his breath and tried to smile, pushing down the tension tightening in his stomach. It was the same sense of alienation and isolation he had felt at home.
Yet, his short legs grew heavier with each step through the long corridor from the entrance to the hall. The optimism he once had began to feel cold—not the chill of the air, but the chill of despair.
The sharp gazes and degrading whispers. The harsh truths or baseless rumors behind his back. And without realizing it… the steps he took that day, filled with high hopes, would lead him straight into a hell waiting to swallow him whole.
The other new students there had silently sworn to give Hanasta an unforgettable time for daring to crawl from the slums into their elite territory. But Hanasta would not stand idle—he had his own survival plan.
"For the suffering that has lasted for thousands of years, I will do whatever it takes. Wait for my revenge, Empyrean Zielle," the boy thought, clenching his fists as he tried to recall the message sent from heaven that had long since perished.