The air still trembled from the remnants of battle. Smog and ash lingered like ghosts. In the heart of the mobile command dome, General Calloway stood before the remaining high-ranking officers and AI tacticians, his face cut with exhaustion, his voice sharp as steel. He tapped the console, and the holographic display flared to life. "This is the full compiled damage report following Operation Black Sky."
Casualty Summary:
Civilian Death Toll: 9,862,440 confirmed dead
Civilians Missing: 317,000+ (presumed dead)
Sentinel Units Deployed: 71,402
Sentinel Units Lost: 69,119
CPG Soldiers Deployed: 1,800,000
Soldiers Killed in Action: 1,212,345
Soldiers Critically Injured: 494,001
Medical Evacuations: Ongoing
Equipment and Fleet Losses:
Mother Ships Deployed: 7,112
Mother Ships Destroyed: 6,839
Battle Cruisers Lost: 62,800
Outposts Collapsed: 17
Weapon Stockpile Loss: 46%
Energy Core Overloads: 22 sites confirmed
Calloway sighed as the numbers rolled. "Varkath's entire infrastructure is gone. The city is uninhabitable. The power grid's collapsed. Mutant population dropped."
He turned to his second-in-command, Colonel Lucy Simkins. "Activate Protocol Umbra Shield. Containment procedures start now."
Dozens of mobile walls rose around Ground Zero, where the Egg of Ao Shun levitated slowly in a crater surrounded by fused glass and scorched steel.
Protocol Teams in full radiation, psychic, and anti-magic suits marched in synchronized formation. Hover-drones created a 500-meter exclusion zone, layered with:
Level-9 Psionic Dampeners
Anti-Arcane Pulse Barricades
Energy-nullification field towers every 20 meters
Orbital Satellites now locked to track all energy shifts
A multi-ring defense perimeter was established:
Ring 1 (200m): Elite CPG Strike Division, armed with Void-Tech weaponry
Ring 2 (300m): Sentinel Units — all remaining cores reinforced and synchronized
Ring 3 (500m): Drone patrols, surveillance stations, auto-turret grids
General Calloway's command echo broadcasted. "The Egg is to be treated as a Class-Z Anomaly. No contact. No research clearance. Any unauthorized approach will be considered high treason. I want a goddamn wall of steel and silence around that thing."
Calloway paced into the underground command bunker, leaving the noise behind. He sat, removed his gloves, and stared at the flickering screen showing a live feed of the egg. "We built armies to kill monsters... not to cradle them. But now the fate of the world sits in a shell. Tell Capitol HQ to double reinforcement around the Varkath zone. No press, no public access. We bury this."
The flickering light of the holo-screen painted the room in cold, blue hues. Everyone stood in silence as the feed from Varkath showed CPG's towering barricades forming a steel crown around the egg of Ao Shun. Armored Sentinels, mobile towers, and layered drone rings buzzed across the ruined skyline.
Then, as if on cue, the arguing began. Silas threw his coat across the table and pointed at the feed. "Look at this. They're locking it up like a nuke, like it's a freak experiment."
He scoffed. "Classic CPG. Don't understand it? Then chain it. Don't control it? Then fear it."
Professor M folded his arms, brow furrowed. "This isn't fear. It's protocol. They're reacting the only way they know how. And frankly, after the destruction Ao Shun caused, can you blame them?"
Veymar slammed both hands on the edge of the holo-table. "Yes. I can. You saw what happened! That egg is not a weapon—it's a rebirth. The dragons sealed Ao Shun to give him a second chance, not to throw him into another cage! You think the dragons will stay quiet if that egg is tampered with?"
Barry, arms crossed, leaned against the far wall, shadows gathering at his feet. "Let's not forget who started this. We're only here because Nurarihyon was poked awake by arrogant hands." He looked at Silas with a glance sharp as claws. "Maybe the dragons sealed Ao Shun, but it doesn't mean they trust us with him."
Seraphina, still bandaged from battle, stepped forward. "Barry's right. We all share this mess. But what CPG is doing now? They're repeating the same pattern. They treat everything unknown as a classified threat. They can't chain redemption. It doesn't work like that."
Kai, tapping nervously at his wrist-link, murmured, "They don't even know what they're holding. Look at the readings... That energy is shifting. The egg is... responding. Sentience, maybe. Awareness."
Langley's expression soured. "You're all talking like it's a person already. It's an ancient god in a shell. And if it hatches wrong, if it remembers the fire before the fall... Varkath will look merciful compared to what comes next."
Silas turned and pointed again at the screen where drones circled the egg like vultures. "That's exactly why they're going to screw it up. They think bombs and metal walls can stop a being of myth. They treat it like an anomaly, when it's a soul given a second chance."
Vera spoke up, calm and surgical. "So what then? We storm CPG? Free the egg? Break containment? Do any of you have a plan better than angry speeches and high hopes?"
The argument had reached a boiling point. Silas was midway through calling Langley a "robed fossil" when his wrist-comm crackled to life with a piercing beep. "Silas. General Calloway here."
The room went still. Even the holo-feed dimmed slightly, as if aware of the sudden shift in atmosphere. Silas rolled his eyes but tapped the link. "General. You're interrupting a very enlightening debate about dragon childcare."
Calloway's voice was steel wrapped in restraint. "Bring Langley and Veymar to Central HQ. This afternoon. No delays."
Langley lifted an eyebrow. "You want to talk after CPG turned Varkath into a warzone?"
"We lost over 90% civilians and more than half our orbital fleet." Calloway's voice hardened. "I'm not calling for coffee and apologies, Professor. I'm calling because I need answers—and I need to know if that egg is another war waiting to happen. Three o'clock. Don't make me send a transport."
CPG Central Headquarters – Summit Hall, 6 Mokhwa 1314, 14:57
The room was a cathedral of steel and silence. Long table of obsidian alloy, walls lined with projected tactical data, casualty reports, and an ominous feed of the slowly pulsing dragon egg now encased within a mobile containment field in Varkath.
All six members of the CPG Zero Council sat in their elevated seats—each a sovereign in their own right:
Council Leader Stroud, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued.
Director Patel, of Internal Security, voice of paranoia.
General Zhang, war-scarred and unmoved by emotion.
Admiral Koenig, keeper of the orbital fleet, looking visibly drained.
Secretary Vance, always the politician, too calm for this chaos.
Dr. Luthra, Director of Biogenetics and the Mutant Compliance Program, fingers steepled in thought.
To their sides stood the three shadowed figures that rarely graced such meetings: Grand Inquisitor Cassian Veil, Leader of Black Watch, hooded and unreadable.
High Judicator Alistair Graves, of the Judicators, robe pristine, gaze surgical.
And one empty seat, meant for Commander Silas Morrigan of the Sentinel Corps.
At 15:00 sharp, the side door hissed open. Silas Morrigan strolled in like he owned the place, longcoat swaying, scuff on his knuckles still fresh from punching a wall earlier. Flanking him were Professor Langley—stoic and unreadable—and Veymar Callistrade, whose eyes betrayed the weight of a thousand regrets.
Silas gave the Council a smirk and gestured to the lone empty seat at the table. "So, do I sit like I matter… or stand like a good obedient dog with these two?"
Not a soul laughed. Council Leader Stroud motioned toward the seat. "Sit. Talk. You've got ten million dead mutants on your watch, Morrigan."
Langley's eyes narrowed. Veymar remained quiet. Silas dropped into the seat and put his boots up on the table—until General Zhang cleared his throat sharply. "Right. Respect." Silas muttered, adjusting his posture.
Council Leader Stroud tapped the datapad in front of her. "Start from the top. From the moment the dragon woke… to the moment it turned into a goddamn egg."
Silas leaned back in his chair, arms crossed and expression half-bored, half-cautious. "I'll let the fancy mage talk first," he said, flicking a finger toward Veymar. "After what he saw up there in spiritland, I figure he's got more to say than I do."
All eyes shifted to Veymar Callistrade, who took a steady breath. The flickering monitors behind him still showed the aftermath of Varkath—burned ruins, collapsed towers, and rescue drones retrieving lifeless bodies from the debris.
Veymar stepped forward, voice low but clear. "The incident on Varkath began with a surge of violent psionic waves—an unseen broadcast that incited mass frenzy in the mutant population. We traced it back to Phantom Island, and found the spectral residue closely resembled the signature of Nurarihyon. We approached Nurarihyon… and he confirmed it was his psionic pattern, but claimed he had no involvement. In fact, he appeared… confused. Alarmed, even. Which leads to a disturbing deduction," Veymar continued, pacing slightly. "Someone deliberately replicated Nurarihyon's signature to draw our attention. To send us after him. And in doing so, they led us to awaken Ao Shun—a being whose power is rivaled only by the other Three."
He paused, eyes sweeping the Council. No one interrupted. "The dragons themselves confirmed it. The psionic pattern—this manipulation—came not from him, but from… our kind."
That hit the room like a silent bomb. Director Patel's eyes narrowed. "You're implying this was engineered by a human—or a mutant?"
"That's my current deduction," Veymar said grimly. "A third party orchestrated this chaos to make us chase a false lead. They used our fear of Nurarihyon, weaponized our response, and turned Ao Shun loose on Varkath."
Dr. Luthra tilted her head. "And what's your evidence this wasn't simply Nurarihyon deceiving you?"
"The other dragons would have sensed his direct involvement," Veymar replied. "They were categorical. Whatever instigated this… is not him. But it bears his mark."
Silence lingered like a storm cloud. Then, Council Leader Stroud leaned forward. "You're telling us someone within our ranks—or someone who understands our enemies deeply—engineered the slaughter of ten million mutants?"
Veymar nodded once. "Yes. Someone who knew exactly what would happen if Ten million hyper active mutants on rage."
Before Veymar could respond, Professor Langley—stepped forward, his voice calm but heavy with accusation. "For centuries… Edenia has scapegoated mutants for every disaster. Every uprising. Every imbalance. And yet, time after time, it's men and women in your ranks—" he gestured toward the Council, "—who ignite the kindling behind closed doors."
The room stirred with unease. Stroud's brow furrowed. Admiral Koenig clenched his jaw. Director Patel raised a hand. "Professor Langley, this is not the time for accusations—"
But Langley didn't stop. "I will speak. Ten million mutants died. And someone manipulated our system, masked a psionic broadcast, and pushed us to wake one of the most volatile Celestial being on this plane. Someone knew. And instead of admitting our system is compromised, you're all looking for another scapegoat."
"Enough!" Patel snapped, voice sharp. "You pride yourself on mental clarity, Professor. You could've tracked every mind across Edenia if you truly wanted to. If you're so concerned about radicals… why didn't you shut them down years ago?"
The chamber went dead silent. Langley's eyes narrowed. "Because I believe in free will, Patel. I believe in redemption. I don't play god with minds like some of you play god with nations. I monitor, I observe—but I do not erase."
"Then you're naive," Patel hissed. "You could've stopped half of this—those cults, the insurrections, the rogue awakenings—before they burned cities to the ground."
Langley stepped closer, staring her down. "And yet, you built the Sentinels. You authorized Black Watch eliminations. You let Graves execute children labeled 'threats.' Don't lecture me on what could've been stopped."
A heavy pause fell. Even Cassian Veil—the Grand Inquisitor—shifted in his seat, his pale fingers drumming the armrest. Then Silas finally broke the silence, whistling low. "Well, this got lively." He glanced around, hands in his pockets. "So… anyone wanna talk about the glowing celestial omelette we parked in a crater?"
Stroud exhaled, slow and wearied. "Langley… you've made your point. And however much it stings, you're not wrong."
He rubbed his temple, the faint hum of monitors echoing behind him. "But let me make mine. You may cling to ideals, but we still carry the burden of consequences. The radicals… still move in the dark. We haven't even finished with Echelon Prime, and you of all people know what they nearly did."
Langley narrowed his gaze. "How did you even know Hall of M clashed with Echelon's splinters? That wasn't publicly documented."
Before Stroud could respond, Silas interjected, raising one brow with a cocky smirk. "Come on, Langley. This is the CPG. We know what color socks you wore last winter." He leaned back in his chair. "We always know the secrets, even the ones you forget."
Langley's lips tightened, but he said nothing. Stroud straightened and adjusted the holo-display. The glowing map of Varkath flickered—its once-sprawling urban terrain now a jagged mess of ash, sinkholes, and craters. "As for the present… the egg is contained. A perimeter has been established with anti-psionic barriers, hundred twenty-four Sentinel units, and five-layered ethereal warding."
The display shifted, showing aerial footage of the containment zone: a gleaming forcefield dome encasing the glowing dragon egg, like a tiny sun cradled by steel and scorched earth.
Stroud's voice lowered. "Survivors of Varkath confirmed? Less than a thousand… and every one of them is injured. Burns, trauma, mind-fracture from the psionic storms. Half the island is sunken—if the dragons fought ten minutes longer… Varkath would've drowned."
A cold hush settled again. Stroud stepped back from the console. "I'll contact the Capitol councils and the Alliance delegates. This incident… requires resolution. Political, spiritual, and military. But for now, the egg stays. Watched. Sealed."
He looked to Langley and Veymar. "We're not done. Not with this, not with the radicals… and not with whoever set this all in motion."