**Chapter 25: First Contact?**
**Day 1,160.**
**Location: The Dark Side of the Moon.**
**Current Status: Celestial Watchdog.**
**Daily Growth: +15%.**
Solitude is heavy.
It is not the poetic, introspective solitude of a monk on a mountain. It is a physical weight. Here, in the shadow of the Earth, the silence of the vacuum presses against the obsidian walls of my fortress like a physical ocean. There is no wind to rattle the shutters. There are no birds. There is only the low, sub-audible hum of the Tungsten Throne interfacing with the lunar core, and the beat of my own heart, which has become slow and terrifyingly loud.
I sat on the Throne, my chin resting on my fist.
Six days had passed since I exiled myself. Six days of 15% compound growth.
I ran the internal diagnostic.
**[Current Mass: Equivalent to a Dwarf Planet.]**
**[Gravitational Well: Localized distortion detected.]**
**[Bio-Field: Covering 40% of the Lunar Surface.]**
If I stood up too fast, I would alter the moon's orbit. If I sneezed, I would blow the atmosphere off the Earth.
"I am a prisoner in a castle made of math," I whispered. My voice didn't travel through the air, for there was none. It traveled through the ley lines of the System, resonating in the code itself.
"Zero. Report."
**[Global Status: Stabilizing,]** Zero's voice echoed in my mind. **[The aftermath of the 'First Contact' quest has resulted in a massive spike in player progression. The 'Avatar' status you granted during the battle—the Infinite Mana buff—left residual traces. Players are reporting increased mana regeneration rates permanently.]**
"Good," I noted. "A parting gift."
**[However, the political situation is fracturing. General Sterling is demanding the Crimson Blades hand over the salvage from the Myriad Scout. Damon has responded by turning the crash site into a fortress. He calls it 'Sector Zero'.]**
"Let them bicker," I said, waving a hand. The motion caused a ripple of dust to levitate outside the spire. "They need the friction. Friction creates heat. Heat forges steel."
I looked at the holographic display floating above the armrest. It showed the Earth, teeming with life, noise, and chaos. I missed it. I missed the smell of rain. I missed the taste of cheap coffee.
I glanced at the secondary display—the feed from the sub-level laboratory back on Earth where Zero was incubating the *Divine Core*.
The tank was glowing gold. Inside, a biological form was knitting itself together. A human body. A vessel for the part of me that just wanted to play video games.
"Thirty days until decanting," I murmured. "Thirty days until I can walk among them again."
I leaned back, closing my eyes.
And then, I felt it.
It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a visual blip on the radar. It was a scratch.
It felt like a mosquito landing on the back of my neck, if the mosquito was made of cold fusion and my neck was the fabric of spacetime.
My eyes snapped open.
"Zero. Sector 9. High vector."
**[Scanning... Negative contact. Long-range sensors show clear space.]**
"Your sensors are looking for light," I said, standing up. The throne groaned under the shift in weight. "This isn't light. It's mass. Small. Dense. Moving very, very fast."
I walked to the edge of the spire's platform. The stars stared back at me, unblinking.
To the naked eye, there was nothing. But my eyes were no longer naked. I activated the **[God's Eye]** passive—a visual overlay that allowed me to see the curvature of gravity.
There.
Three hundred thousand kilometers out. Just past the orbit of the moon. A ripple.
Something was tearing through the vacuum at a significant percentage of the speed of light. It wasn't slowing down. It wasn't hailing us.
It was aiming for Earth.
"Trajectory analysis," I barked.
**[Object acquired,]** Zero corrected, the AI's tone shifting to alarm. **[Velocity: 0.8c. Impact trajectory: The Northern Hemisphere. Kinetic energy yield upon impact: Extinction Level Event.]**
It wasn't a ship. It was a bullet.
If it hit Earth at that speed, it wouldn't just destroy a city. It would crack the crust. It would boil the oceans.
"Intercept," I said.
I didn't wait for a plan. I didn't calculate the physics. I simply moved.
***
**The Intercept**
I launched from the spire.
I didn't fly; I rejected the concept of location. I pushed the moon away from me (carefully) and hurled myself into the void.
The stars blurred into streaks of light. I was moving fast, but the object was moving faster. I had to calculate the intercept point in real-time, adjusting my vector with bursts of directed gravity.
*Come here, you little gnat.*
I saw it.
It wasn't biological. The Myriad Scout had been a beetle, a creature of flesh and carapace. This was sleek. Metal. Blacker than the void around it. A needle of unknown alloy, perhaps fifty meters long, silent and deadly.
It was piercing the solar system like an arrow.
I aligned my velocity. I had to match its speed, or the impact of me grabbing it would detonate it.
*0.5c... 0.6c... 0.7c...*
My body glowed brighter. The friction against the thin interstellar dust was creating a bow shock of plasma ahead of me.
I pulled up alongside the object.
It was smooth. Seamless. No windows. No engines. Just a monolith of momentum.
"Gotcha," I whispered.
I reached out.
I didn't grab it. Grabbing it would shatter it. I extended my own bio-field, wrapping the object in a cocoon of my own gravity. I became a second hull around it.
Then, I braked.
I dug my metaphysical heels into the fabric of space.
The deceleration force was astronomical. A normal human would have been turned into soup. The object groaned, its structure screeching against the sudden drag.
*Stop.*
I poured my strength into the hold. My muscles strained—not from the weight, but from the delicacy required to stop a relativistic projectile without vaporizing it.
We drifted past the Moon. Past the orbital satellites.
Finally, we stopped.
We hovered in the high orbit between the Earth and the Moon.
I floated next to the object, my hand resting on its cold, black surface.
"Zero," I said, my breath fogging the inside of my energy-construct helmet. "Tell me this isn't what I think it is."
**[Scanning object...]**
A beam of red light scanned the hull.
**[Composition: Unknown Poly-Alloy. Radiation signature: Zero. It is stealth technology, Architect. It was designed to bypass sensors and embed itself in the planetary crust.]**
"It's a probe," I said. "A deep-injection probe."
I ran my hand along the surface. I could feel the vibration inside. It was humming. Not with mechanics, but with data.
"It's transmitting," I realized.
I pressed my palm flat against the metal.
"System," I commanded. "Brute force the interface. Hack it."
**[Attempting handshake... Encryption is xenomorphic. It utilizes non-binary logic.]**
"I don't care if it uses interpretive dance," I growled, my eyes flaring with violet light. "Crack it. I want to know who sent it."
I pushed my own Prana into the machine. I flooded its circuits with the raw code of the Order of Truth. I overwhelmed its alien firewall with the sheer weight of my existence.
The black metal ripple. A hidden seam opened.
A holographic display projected into the vacuum. It wasn't a screen; it was a series of glyphs made of hard light.
They twisted, rearranged, and finally, processed by the System's universal translator, resolved into English text.
**[SOURCE: THE MYRIAD VANGUARD.]**
**[OBJECTIVE: PRE-HARVEST ANALYSIS.]**
**[STATUS: INTERCEPTED.]**
"It's them," I hissed. "The Scout we killed on the moon... it wasn't the only one. They sent this thing ahead to taste the soil."
Then, the text changed. The color shifted from neutral blue to an angry, pulsing crimson.
**[SCAN COMPLETE.]**
**[ANOMALY DETECTED: HIGH-DENSITY ENERGY SPIKE (Subject: Architect).]**
My heart stopped.
It hadn't just come to scan the Earth. It had scanned *me* when I grabbed it.
**[DATA TRANSMITTED.]**
**[ASSESSMENT: PREY IS EVOLVING.]**
**[HARVESTING SEQUENCE: ACCELERATED.]**
"Accelerated?" I asked the cold vacuum.
The final message flashed, blinking rapidly.
**[WARP GATES: ACTIVATING.]**
**[ARRIVAL TIME UPDATED: T-MINUS 48 HOURS.]**
I stared at the text.
Forty-eight hours.
Not forty days.
"No," I whispered. "No, no, no. They aren't ready."
I looked down at the Earth. I saw the lights of the cities. I imagined Sterling drilling his men. I imagined Damon fortifying Los Angeles. I imagined Ren sharpening his daggers.
They thought they had a month. They thought they had time to build, to level up, to prepare.
I had promised them time.
"Zero!" I shouted, the soundwave shattering the probe into dust. "Global Alert! Now!"
**[Architect, the panic alone will cause-]**
"Do it!" I roared. "Wake them up! All of them!"
***
**The Real World: Earth**
**Time: 03:00 AM (Local Time, New York)**
The night was quiet. The *Mana Break* had changed the weather patterns, leaving a permanent aurora borealis hanging over the northern hemisphere.
In a secure bunker under the Pentagon, Director Miller was sleeping on a cot. He dreamed of paperwork.
In Los Angeles, Damon was awake, overseeing the installation of a new Mana-Shield generator on the roof of the Crimson Citadel.
In Tokyo, Ren was in a deep meditation trance, floating in the center of his apartment, his Black Box cycling energy through his meridians.
Then, the world screamed.
It wasn't a sound. It was the System.
Every screen, every phone, every headset, every Black Box turned blood red. The vibration was violent enough to rattle teeth.
**[CRITICAL ALERT]**
**[CRITICAL ALERT]**
Ren dropped to the floor, gasping. The red light filled his room.
"What?" Ren wheezed, checking the HUD.
**[System Update: The Timeline has Collapsed.]**
**[Enemy Action Detected: Warp Jump.]**
A countdown timer appeared in the center of everyone's vision. It replaced the comfortable "35 Days" that had been there moments ago.
**[TIME UNTIL ARRIVAL: 47:59:58]**
The numbers ticked down.
Damon stared at the generator. "Two days?" he whispered. "We haven't even finished the walls."
Miller fell out of his cot, grabbing his secure phone. It was already ringing.
"Get the President," Miller shouted into the receiver. "And get me the Nuclear Football. The game just changed."
***
**The Moon Base: The Throne Room**
I materialized back on the Spire. The journey back was a blur of panic and teleportation.
I paced the obsidian platform. The dust from my arrival swirled around my legs.
"Two days," I muttered. "I can't train them in two days. I can't build more railguns in two days."
I looked at the orbital defenses I had established. Twelve railguns. A few thousand drones. It wasn't enough. The Myriad fleet was a swarm. They would blot out the sun.
"I need to buy them time," I said. "Or I need to give them a weapon."
"Architect," Zero interrupted. "The players are reacting. Panic levels are at 90%. However... look at the Guild channels."
I swiped the air, bringing up the chat logs.
**[Crimson Blades (Global Chat)]**
*Damon:* Drop the shovels. Pick up the swords. Everyone to the armory. If we die in 48 hours, we die fighting.
**[Sanctuary (Global Chat)]**
*Elena:* All healers to the triage centers. Stockpile potions. We aren't sleeping for the next two days.
**[Public Channel]**
*xX_Slayer_Xx:* 2 days? BRUH. I haven't even finished my homework.
*TankBoi99:* Guess I'm skipping work tomorrow. Raid night came early.
They were panicked, yes. But they weren't breaking.
"They have spirit," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips. "But spirit doesn't stop plasma bombardment."
I sat on the Throne. The cold metal bit into my skin.
I had to escalate.
If the enemy was bringing a Warp Gate, I needed to close the door. Or at least, narrow the hallway.
"Zero, analyze the Warp Gate signature from the probe data."
**[Processing... The Myriad utilizes gravitational shearing to fold space. They will exit FTL at the edge of the gravity well. Likely the Lagrange Point L1, between the Earth and Sun.]**
"A choke point," I realized.
If they all came out at L1, they would be bunched up. Clustered.
"I can hit them," I said. "When they drop out of warp. Before their shields stabilize."
"Hit them with what?" Zero asked. "The railguns have a range of 50,000 kilometers. L1 is 1.5 million kilometers away."
I looked at my hand. The hand that had crushed the probe.
"Not the guns," I said. "Me."
**[Architect, if you leave the Moon and travel to L1, your departure will shatter the lunar surface. And if you engage the fleet in open combat... your energy output will be visible to the entire galaxy. You will attract things worse than the Myriad.]**
"Let them come," I growled. "I'm already the villain of this story."
But then, I hesitated.
If I fought them... I deprived the humans of the struggle. If I wiped out the fleet, humanity would remain children, safe in the crib, guarded by a monster. They would never evolve. They would never be ready for the *next* threat.
And eventually, I would leave. Or I would explode.
"I can't fight the war for them," I said, slumping back. "But I can even the odds."
I looked at the *Iron Frontier*. The *Warfronts*. The dungeons.
All that XP. All that loot.
"Unlock it," I commanded.
**[Unlock what?]**
"Everything," I said. "The Vaults. The Legacy Items. The God-Tier blueprints. Remove the level requirements for the Star Metal weaponry."
**[That will ruin the economy.]**
"There won't be an economy if we're all dead!" I shouted.
I waved my hand, and a massive golden notification ripple went out across the system.
**[SYSTEM UPDATE 3.0: THE ARMORY OF GODS.]**
**[All Level Requirements: REMOVED.]**
**[Legendary Drop Rates: INCREASED TO 100%.]**
**[New Crafting Recipe Unlocked: PLANETARY DEFENSE CANNON.]**
**[New Crafting Recipe Unlocked: VOID SHIELD GENERATOR.]**
"I'm giving them the nukes," I whispered. "I'm giving them the keys to the armory."
***
**The Real World: Tokyo**
Ren stared at the screen.
**[Twin Fangs Upgrade Available: Star-Eater.]**
**[Material Required: 1x Myriad Core.]**
"He's insane," Ren whispered. "He's breaking the game."
Ren grabbed his coat. He didn't blink to the roof this time. He blinked to the street.
People were running. Screaming. But amidst the chaos, he saw others. Players. They weren't running away. They were running toward the dungeon entrances.
"Get the loot!" a teenager shouted, holding a glowing staff. "The drop rates are maxed! We can get the Legendary gear!"
Ren smiled.
The Architect knew his audience. Give a gamer a crisis, they panic. Give a gamer a 100% drop rate event, they mobilize.
Ren tapped his comms.
"Damon. Elena."
"We see it," Damon's voice was grim but excited. "Planetary Defense Cannons. I have my engineers looking at the blueprints. We need Star Metal. Tons of it."
"I know where to get it," Ren said. "The Moon. The crater where the Scout died. The debris is full of it."
"The portal is closed," Elena noted. "The Architect locked the Moon Zone after the battle."
"Then we knock," Ren said.
***
**The Moon Base**
"They want to come back," Zero reported. "Ren is requesting portal access. They want to mine the Scout debris."
"Let them in," I said. "But tell them to bring their hard hats. I'm turning the gravity up."
I stood up.
"Zero, I have one more job to do before they arrive."
"Which is?"
I looked at the Earth.
"I need to speak to the Governments. Not as the Architect. But as the Enemy."
"I do not understand."
"If they think I am on their side, they will wait for me to save them," I explained. "They need to think I am abandoning them. Or worse... that I am testing them."
I projected my avatar.
***
**Global Broadcast**
The red alert screens faded to black.
My face—the mask of the Weeping Eye—appeared.
"Citizens of Earth," I spoke. My voice was tired. Heavy.
"The enemy is at the gates. You have forty-eight hours."
I paused.
"I have given you weapons. I have given you power. I have given you a chance."
I leaned into the camera.
"But do not look to the Moon for salvation. I will not fight this battle for you."
A collective gasp went around the world.
"This is your planet," I said coldly. "If you want to keep it... earn it."
The feed cut.
***
**The Reaction**
In the Pentagon, Miller threw a chair across the room.
"He's leaving us to die!" Miller screamed. "He pumped us up, started a war, and now he's watching from the cheap seats!"
General Sterling stood stoically. "Then we don't need him. We have the Battalion. We have the blueprints."
Sterling put on his Centurion helm.
"Get me the Engineers. We're building those cannons. And we're putting them on the White House lawn."
In Tokyo, Ren watched the black screen.
He didn't buy it.
"He's lying," Ren whispered.
"How do you know?" Elena asked over the comms.
"Because he gave us the blueprints," Ren said. "He gave us the means to win. He's not abandoning us. He's... he's scared."
"Scared?" Damon laughed. "The guy who cracked the moon is scared?"
"He's scared of what happens if he lets loose," Ren said, touching his chest where the void energy hummed. "I know the feeling."
Ren looked up at the moon.
"He's building a wall, Damon. And he needs us to be the mortar."
***
**The Moon Base**
I sat back down on the Throne.
The lie had tasted bitter, but it was necessary.
"They are mobilizing," Zero confirmed. "Construction has begun on fifty Planetary Defense Cannons across the globe. The Guilds and the Militaries are collaborating. They are sharing resources."
"Fear unites," I said.
I looked at the probe I had crushed. The dust of it lay on the floor.
"Forty-eight hours," I whispered.
I closed my eyes.
"System. Initiate **Sleep Mode**."
**[Warning: Sleep Mode will disable conscious regulation of your Bio-Field. Tectonic instability risk.]**
"I need to save my strength," I said. "When they arrive... I'm going to need every ounce of mana to keep the Earth from shattering under the weight of the war."
**[Understood. Waking trigger set for: Enemy Arrival.]**
The darkness took me.
My power increases without limits.
And in two days, I would find out if infinity was enough.
**Chapter 25: First Contact?** ends.