Somewhere deep in the heart of Europe, beneath an unassuming government complex hidden behind layers of diplomatic immunity, sat a room so secure even light seemed to think twice before entering. There were no surveillance cameras. No cell phones. No Wi-Fi, Bluetooth, or electromagnetic frequencies were allowed within its walls. The paint on the walls contained trace amounts of lead and other metals that made eavesdropping impossible. This wasn't just a meeting room. It was a war chamber—one that hadn't been used in over a century.
Inside, three of the most powerful beings on Earth sat around a black obsidian table, carved from a single meteorite that fell to Earth twelve thousand years ago—just before the Dome was raised.
They looked like men. But they were not.
They never were.
The Truth of the Shadows
A hundred millennia ago, when the great civilizations of Earth were still crawling from the ashes of the previous age, they arrived. Not from the sky, but from other worlds—dimensions beyond human comprehension. They were conquerors, manipulators, and predators cloaked in wisdom and power.
Humanity remembers some of them through twisted legends: gods, demons, angels, and titans. But the truth was far more sinister.
The Anunnaki came first. Giants of mind and matter, they altered the DNA of early humans, creating loyal slaves to mine their resources. But when rebellion broke out, their numbers dwindled, and they vanished into shadows, disguising themselves as kings and prophets.
Then came the Draconics, shape-shifting warlords from the inner void. Born of flame and bloodlust, they seeded fear and war into every continent they touched, thriving in chaos and carnage. Where humans saw dragons in myths, the Draconics had merely taken a new form.
The last wave was the Vampyr, creatures of eternal life and endless thirst. Not just for blood—but for dominance. They infected human courts with charm, manipulation, and the illusion of civilization. Kings became puppets. Empires rose and fell at their whispers.
Eventually, the three species clashed, each vying for dominion over Earth. But a new threat emerged—humans with godlike powers. Awakened warriors, mystics, and sages who fought back. Their resistance destroyed the invaders.
They repelled ancient aliens, claimed the planet as theirs, and ascended to dominion. But pride followed.
Powerful humans turned on one another. They waged war—magical, psionic, and technological—till continents collapsed and the era of gods ended in ruin. That was the apocalypse that reshaped everything.
In the aftermath, the powerful survivors built the Dome: a shield, a prison, and a sanctuary—designed by the dwindling paragons to heal the planet and shelter its remaining innocents.
It was inside the Dome that the alien-born elite thrived.
So the three ancient races struck a pact—a dark alliance sealed in blood and betrayal. The remaining powerful humans were hunted down and extinguished over millennia of orchestrated wars, purges, and inquisitions.
As humans regressed and lost their magic, the ancient alien lineages—vampiric aristocrats, draconic warriors, and prehuman god-beings—regained influence. They forged a secret council and erased much of history. Fake human origins. Manufactured religions. Puppet governments. Human powerless serfs, useful only to feed or profit from—nothing more.
They became The Elite. And for the last ten thousand years, they have ruled behind the curtains of governments, religions, and industries. The masses forgot. History was rewritten. And the Elite became gods once more.
Now, after the Great Broadcast awakened thousands of humans again, everything threatened to reverse.
Inside the Room
"I say we move tonight."
The voice was deep, slow, and deliberate. Each word hit the room like the slam of a judge's gavel. General Draavos, a Draconic warlord dressed in the olive-green uniform of a high-ranking official, leaned forward on the table. His pupils were slits, flickering like burning embers.
Across from him, the pale man with blood-colored eyes took a sip from his crystal goblet. Human blood, vintage 2001.
"Finally, something we agree on," said Prime Minister Lucien Varric, his voice smooth, almost hypnotic. He wore a black tailored suit that shimmered in the dim light, with a silver pin shaped like a serpent on his collar. "We delay any longer, and those… awakened children might band together. I'd rather kill them while they're still squabbling over who gets the best room."
"You're both jumping ahead," came a third voice. Calm. Calculated. And chilling.
Arman Dakhal, billionaire technocrat and the last known Anunnaki on Earth, stood beside the massive world map mounted on the wall. His skin had a golden hue under the light, and his eyes shimmered like cracked quartz. "The plan must be executed with surgical precision. This isn't like releasing COVID. We're not making the world sick this time. We're ending it."
Draavos snorted. "We made that virus with a few test tubes and some borrowed RNA. It fooled them all into fear. Shut their cities, turned them on each other. The next phase should've happened then. But you wanted to wait."
"We had to wait," Arman snapped. "The Dome was still intact. We couldn't predict how the energy patterns would shift. But now—now it's weakening. The awakened are growing in number. If they unite, our ten thousand years of control are over."
Lucien's red eyes gleamed. "That's why we don't give them the chance."
"The Valeriepieris Circle," Arman said, clicking a remote. The world map zoomed in to Asia.
A glowing circle appeared, centered around the South China Sea.
"In this small area—just ten percent of the Earth's surface—lives more than half of the human population," Arman explained. "China, India, Indonesia, the Philippines, Bangladesh, Vietnam, and Japan. Densely packed, underprepared, and entirely vulnerable."
The vampire bristled. "You've thought this through."
The Anunnaki leaned forward. "A genetically engineered virus will begin in that circle, worse than COVID by magnitudes—turning the host into a parasitic zombie."
Lucien grinned. "And perfectly primed for chaos."
Arman continued. "This time, it won't be a respiratory virus. No coughing, no vaccines, and No time to respond. This virus eats the brain first and kills the soul second. The body becomes a shell—a parasite host. Think of it as... a collective infection."
"Zombies," Draavos said, delighted. "Finally something entertaining."
"Not just zombies," Arman corrected. "Each infected becomes a node, a hive of rage, driven to feed and spread. They won't just bite—they'll rip through flesh like predators. Once bitten, the transformation completes in under a minute. Instant army."
Lucien chuckled. "Delicious. And poetic. Turn humanity against itself. Again."
"Delivery?" Draavos asked.
Arman nodded. "Already prepped. Encoded in food shipments, bottled water, imported goods. It will activate when exposed to a specific frequency—delivered by satellite signal."
"Your satellites?" Lucien asked.
"My satellites," Arman confirmed. "They'll never see it coming."
The vampire tapped a finger. "Our agents in politics will block foreign aid. Hospitals will be overwhelmed. We'll declare martial law for containment—but containment for who?"
The draconic general added, "Our militia units will move in as saviors. Martial law becomes martial control. Human survivors are surveyed, controlled, and relocated. We own the aftermath."
The billionaire nodded. "We'll acquire lands, launch reconstruction contracts, and privatize every service. By the time humans recover—if they recover—we will be their rulers in every sense."
Between them, twisted embroidered maps and actor profiles lay across the table. Photos of markets, dense slums, hospitals—half of humanity.
There was a pause. The three looked at each other—not as enemies, not even as friends. But as predators with a common hunt.
Then Draavos asked, "What about the other races? The Reznari? The Syreans? The old races still hiding in the dark caves?"
Arman scoffed. "Most of them are extinct. The rest are fragmented. And none of them have shown signs of resistance. But if they do…"
Draavos grinned, flashing his teeth. "Then they'll burn with the rest."
Lucien leaned back, tapping a finger on the table.
"And what of the awakened ones outside the Circle?
Draavos bared his teeth. "Let them come. By then, we'll have an army of hundreds of millions. Let's see how brave they are when their own mothers are trying to eat them."
Arman stayed quiet.
Lucien noticed. "You're hesitant."
Arman sipped his wine. "Not hesitant. Just… aware. The awakened are unpredictable. Some of them have Guardians watching them."
Draavos growled. "We've never confirmed the Guardians really care. They're just observing."
Lucien nodded. "Perhaps. But if they do… well, let's just say I'd love to meet them."
"And if the Guardians come?" Draavos asked again.
Arman tapped his temple. "Then we test the fail-safes. The antimatter runes. The null zones. We didn't spend millennia collecting ancient tech for nothing."
Lucien nodded. "So it begins."
Draavos stood, his shadow stretching across the table. "Let the purge commence."
*********
Far beyond the reach of ordinary humans, in a place untouched by time and shielded from the broken world, Coal sat alone in his lab. Towering holographic runes flickered in the air around him, rotating in intricate patterns as he worked through complex simulations. Virtual scenarios played out across the room-sized display, each ending in failure.
"That can't be right," he muttered, adjusting the energy ratio again. "Maybe if I pour more mana into it, instead of raw elemental flow, the result will stabilize."
His hands moved deftly over the controls, feeding new parameters into the rune matrix. But before he could test his new hypothesis, a sharp warning pulse echoed through the room—a Waygate was trying to open inside his lab.
Coal frowned and turned toward the swirling energy breach forming in the far corner. But then he recognized the signature—it was familiar. With a flick of his wrist, he allowed the portal to stabilize.
A ring of silver light expanded, spiraling with swirling mana. From the center stepped a tall, graceful woman with piercing gray eyes and silver hair braided tightly behind her. She glanced around with a bemused expression.
"You were never this picky about visitors," Silver said, arching an eyebrow as she took a seat in one of the vacant chairs. "You must be working on something unusually sensitive."
Coal exhaled and shrugged. "Not sensitive—just important. I don't need distractions right now. This project has no room for error. The Council will have our heads if we fail."
Silver smiled lightly. "You were always the optimist," she replied, glancing at the runes flickering overhead.
Then she leaned forward, her tone shifting. "By the way... did your scouts make it back?"
Coal looked up. "Yes, I sent you the report yesterday. Why?"
Silver's expression grew tight. "Mine returned too... but I'm afraid they didn't exactly follow orders. Instead of observing the Awakened, they got distracted and followed their instincts."
Coal paused. "Instincts? What the hell did they stumble on?"
Silver didn't blink. "The elites. They're planning something big again."
Coal's eyes narrowed. "Another manipulation scheme? Another war? Or maybe a tech collapse this time?"
Silver shook her head grimly. "No. Worse. They're engineering another pandemic. But this isn't like the last one, where they targeted economic competitors or political blocks. This time, they're going full Thanos."
Coal stood abruptly. "You mean...?"
Silver nodded. "They want to wipe out half of humanity. Permanently."
Coal's jaw clenched, his fists tight. "That's code red. Why the hell are we still sitting on our hands? We should've vaporized those bastards when we had the chance—after we saw what they did to this world."
"I know," Silver said, placing a hand on his arm. "But you know how this works. If we interfere directly, the Council will shut everything down. They'll cancel the Ascension Project, and everything we've been building will vanish overnight."
Coal stared at her, breathing heavily. "So what then? We just let them unleash a zombie plague on the Valeriepieris Circle and call it a day?"
"No," Silver said calmly. "We use the Chosen."
Coal hesitated. "Use them? You mean...?"
"They can do what we can't," she explained. "They can intervene without triggering Council lockdown. They can fight, infiltrate, and destroy from within. We just need to point them in the right direction."
Coal returned to his console, watching a visual feed of a simulation unravel.
"I don't know, Silvy. Are they ready? These kids are still learning to crawl."
"Not all of them," Silver said, her eyes gleaming. "But some are. I've read the reports. We've got a handful with real potential. If we guide them correctly... they won't just survive. They'll win."
Coal didn't reply immediately. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Alright then. Tell me your plan. Show me the names."
Silver smiled, already pulling up her own files. "Let's go hunting."