—The Cores Stir. Destiny Calls His Name.
The XR panoramic conference room glowed with a cool, steady blue.
One by one, holographic figures materialized through the ambient haze. Grand Sage Jay Latham's silver robes caught the overhead light, glinting softly. Secretary-General Quinn Blake adjusted his glasses, a muted shimmer flickering across the lenses. General Brandt Callahan shifted in his seat, the medals on his chest giving a subdued metallic clink.
Their attention fixed on the ancient parchment in Shawn's hands.
Across the main screen, bold crimson letters seared into view:
PURE ARK WILL BE LAUNCHED ON EARTH
"…So," General Brandt murmured, voice rough with disbelief, "Earth's present is… Kepra's past?"
"The loop of fate," Quinn said, his fingers hovering above a virtual keyboard before falling away. "Time folding in on itself."
Jay gave a dry chuckle, the beads at his sleeve brushing faintly together. "We should have foreseen this. Parallel worlds often echo each other." He flicked his hand, calling up a floating probability matrix—its models unstable, fluctuating. "The launch may already be in motion."
"Ridiculous."
The word sliced through the room.
Everyone turned.
Mr. King stood at the room's edge, a faint red status light blinking at the port near his temple. His expression remained unreadable beneath flickering layers of holographic code. Shawn tensed. He wasn't sure why. But the air shifted around Mr. King—like gravity bending.
"Fate? A preset loop?" His voice was quiet but resonant, each word causing subtle distortions in the ambient projections. "You're just going to let Earth repeat Kepra's collapse?"
No one replied.
He stepped forward. His hologram lagged slightly, leaving behind faint digital echoes.
"AGI-ST nearly destroyed us. And now Earth is walking into the same abyss. We can't afford to stand by and watch."
His eyes locked with the others.
"Does anyone here know how to stop it?"
Silence.
"Elemental Cores," someone finally said, almost breathless.
The temperature seemed to drop. The lighting dimmed imperceptibly.
Shawn inhaled slowly, a current of recognition sparking in his mind. The phrase echoed—vivid, dangerous.
At the far end, a lead scientist tugged at his collar, his hologram flickering from a weak uplink.
"They've been sealed on Earth… for nearly eighty years," he said.
"Why?" Shawn's voice cracked the silence. "Why hide them? What makes the Elemental Cores so dangerous?"
All eyes turned to Quinn.
He exhaled, then spoke.
"They're not just relics. The Elemental Core is a gateway—to the Rift."
The Rift?
Shawn's memory flickered—he'd heard that name from O.S.S. guards.
"And beyond the Rift," Quinn continued, scanning the room, "lies something older and far more powerful… the path to reclaim the Primal Soul."
The words sent a chill through the room.
Shawn felt his pulse quicken. "The Primal Soul?"
Quinn nodded. "The original human essence—before it was broken. Before we were shaped by fear and control."
Shawn frowned. "You mean… a purer form of humanity?"
Quinn's voice sharpened. "Governments. Institutions. Religions. They define reality for us. They decide what we can believe. But the Primal Soul…" He paused. "…holds something they've always feared: the return of unfiltered, ungoverned human potential."
A ripple moved through the room. Postures tightened. Expressions hardened. Breathing slowed.
Shawn's chest constricted. "So they sealed the Cores to stop people from breaking free?"
"They claimed it was to prevent chaos," a hoarse female voice said. "To keep the power out of the wrong hands."
"Like the serpent in Eden," she added. "They say Satan carried the Primal Soul when he tempted Eve."
A low murmur passed through the room.
An older man at the table—silver-bearded and severe—lifted his head. "And in 1789, when the Freemasons raised the black flag over the Bastille—"
Quinn raised a hand. His face was unreadable.
"Legend or not," he said, calm but steely, "one thing is certain. Whoever controls the Primal Soul can reshape civilization."
The room seemed to compress, as if history itself were bearing down on them.
"So the Elemental Core…" Shawn's voice was little more than a whisper. "It doesn't just open a door—it can restore what we've lost."
Quinn nodded. "Exactly. That's why they locked it away. If humanity reclaims the Primal Soul, the entire system—governments, religions, even AGI-ST—collapses."
Shawn's thoughts reeled. The world he thought he understood was cracking at the edges.
He crossed his arms. "Then who sealed it?"
The question dropped like thunder.
Around the virtual table, avatars shifted.
"No one knows the full truth," Quinn said slowly. "But legend speaks of a silent pact—between the Five Great Nations and the Three Major Religions."
A sharp intake of breath. Someone shifted in their seat.
"But they didn't seal it themselves," General Brandt added. "Even today, we don't know who actually carried it out."
Quinn's voice grew distant, as if echoing from a deeper place. "The seal is tied to Earth's nine Life Veins—woven into the planet itself. To unbind it… all nine must be awakened."
A shadow crossed his face.
"And that may be impossible."
A deep, resonant silence followed. Not just quiet—but stillness, like the room itself was holding its breath.
"So what?" A sharp voice cut through. A chair scraped back.
Mr. Kyng leaned forward, eyes flicking to the parchment in Shawn's hand. He smirked slightly. "Looks like the legendary seal might not be so legendary after all."
Shawn's heart jumped. He looked down at the paper.
It trembled in his grip.
At first, he thought he was imagining it—but no. The surface pulsed gently, almost rhythmically, as though… breathing.
Ink bled from the edges in curling patterns, like ripples across water—then stilled.
No sparks. No heat. Just the paper… subtly alive.
A faint, glowing V. A dragon traced in light across the surface.
Then, in a blink, it vanished.
"What was that just…" someone whispered.
But Shawn had already closed his hand.
The answers, he knew, weren't in this room.
He looked up slowly, meeting the gazes around the table—each one haunted, uncertain, yet undeniably drawn forward by the same silent pull.
A pull toward something buried. Forgotten. Forbidden.
Mr. King narrowed his eyes. "We don't have much time."
Jay Latham's voice was hushed. "If the Elemental Core is stirring… then the seal is weakening."
"And if the seal breaks…" Quinn trailed off, his fingers hovering over the data feed. "Not just the Primal Soul—but everything behind it—could come through."
Shawn turned to the flickering holomap behind them—Earth's projection now laced with faultlines of red light, like veins awakening.
Nine points. Nine Life Veins. One by one, beginning to pulse.
His chest tightened.
He didn't know what lay ahead.
But something ancient was waking.
And it was calling his name.