Chapter (2) - The Wrath of The Void
Located 500 meters beneath the city of Geneva, the secret base codenamed "The Void" stands as a spine-chilling achievement of modern science. The walls of the base are constructed from light-absorbing black carbon fiber, between which pale blue electric currents flow and flicker like living veins.
Inside the vast command hall, hundreds of technicians are busy at their circular computer consoles. Holographic displays float in the air like ethereal windows, constantly projecting global satellite activities, DNA analysis data, and ancient linguistic symbols, all being processed ceaselessly by AI systems. Yet, amidst all the noise, a silence born of human dread and anxiety permeates the air.
"Bang!"
Dr. Varkas's thunderous fist striking the table echoed throughout the magnificent hall. His hands trembled as he stared at the screen before him, watching the final transmission from Unit-09X disintegrate into black and white static, replaced by the glaring red letters: "Core Destroyed."
He grabbed an expensive Quantum Tablet from his desk and hurled it with all his might at the massive observation screen on the wall.
"Crash!"
Steel and glass fragments scattered. His face was flushed crimson with rage, the veins at his temples bulging prominently.
"Useless garbage! A robot I equipped with the pinnacle of technology, and it couldn't even match that single 'man in the black robe'? 'Mission Failed' does not exist in my vocabulary!"
He swept his arm across the desk, sending coffee cups and documents crashing to the floor. The nearby technicians lowered their heads, trembling, not daring to utter a single word.
"Look! Look at this!" Varkas swiped another hologram into existence. "This is Alister's DNA. These are the biological keys we need! Do you have any idea what it means to lose such a crucial 'key'? If the higher-ups find out about this... we'll all be dead before sunset!"
He paced furiously back and forth across the hall, cursing incessantly. "Don't you dare tell me stories about Emperor Ashoka's books! Those 9 books will end up in my hands. And now our Unit-09X is reduced to a pile of scrap metal! Who is that man in the black robe? Where did he come from?"
After a moment, he took a few deep, ragged breaths, forcing himself to regain composure. A cruel glint flashed in his eyes.
"Order the Lab department..." His voice lowered, becoming soft yet even more terrifying. "Upgrade the robot. Immediately! Double the reinforced steel plating. Input that man in the black robe's DNA into the sensory system and activate 'Search and Destroy' Mode. Next time, if we can't capture Alistair alive, we will bring back his blood – barrels full of it!"
A technician stammered a response. "But, Doctor... the new Power Source isn't stable yet..."
"Don't talk back to me!" Varkas glared at him. "We're out of time. Upgrade that robot and deploy it before the higher-ups start calling demanding a report. Otherwise, I'll personally implant your brains into the robot as its new 'Memory Core'!"
Within the ultra-modern underground base, the sounds of machinery rebuilding the new robot – the clanging of metal and the crackling of electric sparks – began to roar with a terrifying ferocity. The enemy's rage and thirst for vengeance had become more intense than any blizzard sweeping across Geneva.
- Kings of the Shadows
Somewhere in the Indian Ocean, on a hidden archipelago that doesn't even exist as a dot on any map, lies a secret palace called "The Sanctum" within its vast rocky caves—a structure masterfully blending modern architecture with ancient artistry.
Outside the island, ocean waves crash with a thunderous roar, but within the deepest chamber of the complex, silence reigns supreme. The room is circular, its walls constructed entirely from black obsidian stone. In the center stands a massive circular steel table, surrounded by five seated figures.
Their faces remain shrouded in the room's darkness, yet the pale blue light from the holographic displays floating before them reflects the glimmer of greed in their eyes. These are billionaires and tech magnates who collectively control 70% of the global economy.
"Your propaganda campaigns aren't working, Van Kroff."
A voice emerged from the head of the table. It was Baron, the arms dealer magnate, speaking with a heavy German accent. His voice grated like rusted machinery.
"Last month, we embedded propaganda codes from the 'First Book' into all social media algorithms. And what was the result? The stock market didn't crash the way we wanted. People aren't afraid enough, not like we anticipated!"
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The young tech mogul called Van Kroff smiled. He was the owner of the world's largest search engine and social media corporation. "Patience, Baron. The concept from Chapter (3) of the 'First Book' is 'breaking a rock with water drops.' We're slowly imprinting deepfakes and targeted ads into people's minds. Right now, people worldwide can no longer distinguish truth from falsehood. This is merely the first step toward total economic control."
"Wrong! You're utterly wrong!"
A dark-skinned woman from the opposite end of the circular table shouted. She was Madame Zoh, the oil queen. She slammed the table in fury, the diamond rings on her fingers glittering sharply in the dim light.
"We only possess fragments of the 'First Book'! That's why our commands carry no weight. What we need is the 'Ninth Book'—the one on sociology and prophecy! Spreading propaganda without knowing the future is like shooting arrows blindfolded!"
"Then what do you suggest, Zoh?" Baron asked coldly.
"Let's review our list," Zoh said, gesturing to pull a holographic list into the center of the table. "According to the records of those who have come into contact with Emperor Ashoka's books, the primary key now is Alistair. He's the one who drank the elixir from the Second Book (Biology) back in the 1800s. Only by obtaining the data encoded in his blood can we discover the locations of the remaining books."
The hologram displayed Alistair's photograph alongside the names of several other individuals:
· Nicola Tesla: Contact with the Sixth Book (Gravity) – Deceased (records lost).· The Unknown Monk (Tibet): Guardian of the Third Book (Microbiology) – Location unknown.· Arthur Wellesley (Alister): Living specimen of the Second Book (Biology) – Still at large.
"The Geneva mission has already failed," Van Kroff sighed. "Varkas's robot is smashed to pieces. And who exactly is that 'man in the black robe'? Could he be from some other organization we don't yet know about?"
"He's likely one of the 'Guardians,'" Baron said, stroking his chin. "Ashoka's descendants are always steps ahead of us. They want to hide knowledge, while we want to use it to rule the world. You know... right now, global banks and gold markets are already destabilizing because of our propaganda. But without all 'Nine Books,' this victory will be temporary."
"Enough talk!"
A figure who had remained utterly silent at the far end of the table, in the darkest corner of the room, finally spoke. He was the leader of this secret organization, known only as 'The Architect.' The moment he spoke, the other four magnates froze like stone statues.
"Alistair possesses the '2026 Envelope.' That envelope contains Emperor Ashoka's final secret. What we must do now is escalate our propaganda to the Global Level. Use our algorithms to inject rumors worldwide—about a 'new pandemic' or an impending 'great war.' When people are paralyzed by fear and chaos, we can capture Alistair with ease."
He dismissed the hologram and stood up. His shadow loomed large against the obsidian walls.
"We are the architects who shape this world. The knowledge Ashoka concealed must become our stepping stones. Instead of arguing amongst yourselves, use your companies, your power—and hunt down that man in the black robe as well, root him out completely!"
A thunderclap boomed outside the island, shaking the air. Within that dark chamber on the hidden island, schemes were brutally set in motion, poised to alter the global economy and the very destiny of humanity.
---
- The Awakening of Memories
The darkness was heavy and thick, swallowing the entire room. The air carried a mingled scent—the musty smell of aged wood and the bitter aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The only thing piercing through that darkness was the faint, flickering glow from an old television set in the corner of the room.
Alister jolted awake on a large sofa, gasping for air as if he had stopped breathing. Something felt lodged in his throat, and his chest burned as if pricked by hot needles. The green poisonous gas he had inhaled on the streets of Geneva had left his blood feeling sluggish and abnormally heavy, his whole body in revolt.
"Awake, are you..."
The voice that emerged from the darkness was unnervingly calm. Alister's gaze shifted toward its source. On a chair by the window, the man in the black robe sat cross-legged. The cigarette held between his fingers sent a wisp of smoke dancing in the pale blue light emanating from the TV.
"Drink this... the gas you inhaled has altered your blood chemistry. This coffee will neutralize the poison," the man said, gesturing toward a cup of hot coffee on the nearby table.
With trembling hands, Alister reached for the cup. As the bitter liquid flowed down his throat, the burning sensation in his chest subsided as if doused with ice. He let out a soft sigh and found his attention drawn to the news anchor's voice from the television.
"...Earlier this morning, all major global stock exchanges experienced a dramatic crash in their graphs. Shares of leading technology companies plummeted in value within minutes, causing massive instability and turmoil in the financial markets."
Alister glanced at the TV, then at the man in the black robe, his question hanging in the air. "Who... who are you?"
"You'll know when the time is right," the man in the black robe replied coldly, flicking ash from his cigarette.
"Then why did you save me?"
The man in the black robe rose from his chair and fixed his gaze intensely on Alister's eyes. "If I hadn't... not only would you have been in trouble, but the entire world would have suffered. You're far more important than you think, Arthur."
Alistee fell silent for a moment. Then, recalling the strange scene he had witnessed on the street, he asked, "On the road, you just raised your hand, and a speeding car stopped dead. What kind of power was that? How is that even possible?"
The man in the black robe walked toward the door, a faint smile playing on his lips. But behind that smile, Alistair sensed the presence of countless deep secrets.
"You'll learn the answer to that... later as well," the man said, opening the door. "Get ready now. They're coming."
Alister gripped the coffee cup tightly. His life, peaceful for over two hundred years, was now spinning violently, caught between unanswered riddles, inexplicable powers, and ruthless enemies closing in.

