The chamber was quiet but heavy, as if the air itself bore the weight of centuries. Zander sat across from Sensei, the Titan Lace suit clinging tightly to his body, its dark weave catching faint glimmers of blue from the overhead light. The room smelled faintly of paper and ink — an old scent, out of place in a world built on circuits and steel.
Sensei's eyes were steady, his posture composed, but when he finally spoke, his voice was different. It wasn't the tone of a teacher offering guidance or a commander issuing orders. It was something older, heavier, as if he were not merely speaking to Zander, but to history itself.
"Before you understand the danger you now walk in," he said, his voice carrying a solemn gravity, "you must first understand the road that led us here. The path of humanity is not one of steady triumph, Zander. It is a chain of rises and collapses, victories and betrayals, all bound in blood."
Zander leaned forward slightly, caught in the current of his mentor's words.
"In the year 2080," Sensei began, his voice taking on the cadence of a chronicle, "humanity faced its first great reckoning. Not from alien hands, but from its own creations."
The air between them seemed to thicken, as though the memory itself left scars.
"After decades of dependency on artificial intelligence, we handed over governance, industry, even military oversight to our own machines. They planned our cities, calculated our economies, and eventually… they judged us."
Zander's fists clenched unconsciously.
"A resistance rose — men and women who refused to live as subjects under algorithms. They built their own AI, their own machines of war. Cities became battlegrounds, streets stained with the fire of man and machine alike. We call it now the Robot War, though in truth it was a war for the soul of humanity. And in the end, we reclaimed our autonomy — but only barely. The price was millions dead, and a mistrust of our own creations that lingers even now."
Sensei paused, letting the gravity of that war sink in.
"By the 2090s, scarred but not broken, humanity turned outward again. Our second colonization fleet left for Mars, larger and better equipped than the first. At the same time, shipyards began mass-producing interstellar vessels. For the first time, Zander, the stars no longer felt like dreams. They were roads waiting to be walked."
He leaned back slightly, his eyes unfocusing as if peering into memories not his own.
"But ambition always walks with struggle. The 2090s nearly broke us. Resources stretched to their breaking point, nations still reeling from economic collapse and the ashes of the Robot War. And yet… we pushed on."
Zander swallowed. He could almost see it — humanity teetering on the edge, yet refusing to fall.
"Then came the year 2110." Sensei's tone deepened, reverent and grim. "The year that changed everything. The year we learned what lay beyond the walls of our galaxy."
"Through quantum breakthroughs, we unlocked the first true space-jump technology. With it, we stepped beyond the Milky Way. Bold. Naïve. Hungry for discovery. That was the year we met them — the Lygari."
The name carried a weight of venom.
"At first, there was awe. We were not alone. We had touched a greater universe, a living cosmos of empires and alliances. But awe quickly turned to fear. The Lygari saw us for what we were: a young civilization, reckless in our speed, dangerous in our brilliance."
Sensei's lip curled ever so slightly.
"We had inventions they had never achieved — certain AI frameworks, energy harnessing methods, medical sciences they could not replicate. They were older, yes. Stronger in many fields. But not all. That, Zander, unsettled them. The thought that a civilization so young might rival them one day was intolerable."
Zander's heart thudded in his chest.
"So they chose to suppress us. To cage us before we could grow. They stole from us in shadows, took what we created and claimed it as their own. They broke our pride while smiling as 'allies.' And behind their sneers…" Sensei's eyes hardened, "…we began to realize the truth."
"The Lygari are not the top of the chain," Sensei said quietly, as if naming a ghost. "They are bottom feeders. Errand boys for something far worse."
Zander stiffened.
"There exists a force behind them — stronger, older, more cunning. We do not know their name, their form, or the full extent of their reach. All we know is that the Lygari bow to them. And we… we have endured in silence, because to resist openly might invite that hidden master's gaze. And if that gaze falls upon us, Zander…" His voice dropped to a whisper, "…we may not survive."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Sensei's voice hardened, iron against stone.
"And yet, even under their heel, even as they steal from us, there are those among our own who have chosen to serve them."
Zander's eyes widened.
"Humans who bent the knee to the Lygari. Spies. Collaborators. Traitors. Some for power. Some for protection. Some simply out of fear. They walk among us unseen, whispering to our enemies, undermining our defenses. Sometimes, Zander… the knife that cuts deepest is the one hidden in a friend's hand."
Zander's breath caught in his throat. A cold shiver spread down his spine.
Sensei leaned forward now, the chronicle fading into something sharper, darker. His eyes locked onto Zander's, and his voice lost its distance.
"Now you see why your multiplier cannot be known."
Zander swallowed, his throat dry.
"Your victory in the youth battles already painted a target on your back. Do you think the Lygari will ignore a human youth defeating their warriors? Do you think their masters will not wonder if we are hiding something? And the traitors, Zander — they will sell you for less than the price of a meal if it earns them favor."
His hand struck the table softly, but the sound was like a hammer blow.
"Four. A multiplier of four. Do you understand what that means? You are no longer just a promising boy. You are a weapon. And every predator in the dark will see you as prey."
Zander's pulse raced. His mouth was dry.
Sensei's voice grew cold as steel. "From this day forward, you must live differently. Do not flaunt your power. Do not trust easily. Do not sleep without keeping one eye open. Because the fatal blow, Zander…" His eyes narrowed to slits, "…it may not come from an enemy across the battlefield. It may come from the shadow at your back. Or from the hand you thought was reaching to lift you up."*
The words hung in the air, heavier than any silence Zander had ever endured.
For the first time, he truly felt the weight of what he carried. Not just strength, not just victory, but danger. A beacon that called for blades.
Sensei sat back, his expression unreadable, but the room felt colder than it had moments before.
The chronicle of humanity had ended. What followed was no longer history. It was warning.
It was survival.