The image hovered in the center of the war chamber — a spectral projection from the magic orb, anchored by stones. Frozen mid-loop, it showed odd, wheeled platforms rolling across barren ground, massive metallic frames being constructed, and beings—people—moving in formation with tools, gear, and weapons.
Not a single spell.
Not a single magical signature.
"...They use no mana," the High Magister said finally. "None."
"That's impossible," murmured the Warden. "Nothing of that scale can function without arcane structure. There must be concealed channels—hidden enchantments."
But the magister shook her head.
"We checked. Three times. Their machines move without trace. Not even nullzones. It's as if they've never developed magic at all."
A tense silence settled over the table.
One of the elder scholars coughed softly. "Then perhaps they've found another path. Another type of magic."
"Or," said the Grand Marshal, "they were born in a world where magic never existed."
Eyes turned to him.
He nodded toward the Rift.
"This may not be just a breach in space. It could be a breach in reality. A crack between universes."
"Multiverse theory," muttered the High Astronomer. "It was always theoretical. Rift anomalies made it plausible, but we never had proof."
"Until now," said the Marshal.
The image flickered again — showing humans lifting steel beams with primitive machinery. A fuel line caught fire in one frame, and no one used water manipulation to snuff it. Instead, they used chemicals. Tools.
"They look human," said one noble.
"Similar," said the Magister. "But there are differences. The way they move. The way they interact with each other. Their reliance on crafted tools rather than runes."
"Do they even know what the Rift is?" asked the Warden.
The Grand Marshal's voice was low. "I don't think so. If they understood it, they would not be building beneath it. They would fear it."
That struck a chord with the council.
"Then they're not fools," said the High Magister. "But they're blind. Blind to what lies above them."
The image zoomed in on one figure — a man giving orders. He wore a black uniform, heavy boots, and something on his face made of clear glass. No mana sign, no aura.
"What are they preparing for?" someone asked.
The Grand Marshal looked up at the Rift pulsing through the crystal ceiling, and for a moment, his voice carried the weight of empires.
"They're preparing to meet gods," he said.
"They are a low-tier realm," the Grand Magister said coldly, folding her hands. "Primitive. Their clothing lacks enchantments. Their energy signatures are flat, barren. And above all—"
She tapped the floating map, where construction frames beneath the Rift continued to grow.
"—they use no magic."
A ripple of disdain passed through the room.
"They are like children building wooden forts beneath a god's temple," said the Warden, smirking. "Their structures are exposed. No barrier spell. No alert wards. No sensors. We could crush them without lifting a sword."
The Warden added, "Their bodies are soft. No aura training. No blood-bound familiars. No sign of soulcasting."
"Then let us take them," said one of the imperial princes. "Let them serve the Empire as labor. Perhaps they'll learn to scrub floors without magic."
Some laughter followed.
But not from the Grand Marshal.
He stood still, hands behind his back, watching the Rift flicker in the crystal projection.
"They are untrained," he admitted. "Unarmed by our standards. But they are not unintelligent. Look at their machine. Look at their organization. We can't underestimated them."
"But no magic," the Warden reminded him. "No foundation. You can't teach structure to a broken wall."
The Grand Marshal raised one hand, conjuring an illusion above the table — a flow of calculations and magical energy estimates.
"Our scholars estimate the other realm has no natural ley lines. Their planet is inert. At best, they tap into raw energy from the sun and heat. Crude substitutes."
"They may not know magic," he continued, "but their machines are not without power. And their will—"
"Is irrelevant," interrupted the Magister. "This is not a negotiation. This is an opportunity. We send a claim force through. Secure the land. Establish our banner."
She turned to the council.
"If they submit, they become vassals. If they resist… we remind them why our Empire has stood for five thousand years."
The Warden grinned.
"I volunteer my red-guard for the first step. One legion is all I ask."
The Marshal finally nodded.
"Prepare them. In seven days, we enter their world."
He turned his back to the table, hands still behind him, his voice low:
"They reached upward like ants building ladders to the sky.Let them learn what the sky truly is."
Rift Observation Station – Mobile Lab 2.4, 6.1 km from Rift Site
The air conditioning unit wheezed, failing again. A screen nearby buzzed with static before stabilizing. Helena didn't blink — her focus was fixed on the pattern now forming on the graph.
"Ranbir," Dr.Helena murmured, "that's not just noise."
He slid over, glanced once, then froze.The monitor displayed a stable, moving energy signature.Pulsing every 6.3 seconds. Always from the same coordinates.Altitude: 132 meters.Size estimate: between 30–50 cm in diameter.
Ranbir whispered, "Still invisible to camera?"
Dr.Helena nodded. "No visual. No LIDAR. Not even radio reflection. But thermal variances and passive EM disturbance confirm it. Something's there. And it's not atmospheric."
"Drone?"
"Maybe. But not one of ours."
She tapped the frequency logs."It's too clean. Too deliberate. This is a designed object. Controlled. Not just random things. Something placed it."
Ranbir's voice lowered. "That would mean… they're watching."
Helena straightened. "Worse. It means they've already breached our side with reconnaissance equipment. And we didn't notice until now."
She opened a secure log window and began writing:
Unregistered object discovered near Rift perimeter.Status: Cloaked, non-electronic.Identified via signal distortion and passive thermal bleed.Composition: Unknown.Origin: Likely extra-dimensional.Behavior: Stationary. Non-responsive. Monitoring.Recommend elevated observation.Do not engage.
As the file encrypted and uploaded, Ranbir said, "Do we alert Command?"
"Yes"
Empire Side....
In a vast hall of glass and stone, a row of young mage stood before a glowing map suspended in the air. Dots of light marked the Empire's active orbs, including one hovering just above the "unstable gateway" across the rift.
A commander walked past them, nodding with satisfaction."Maintain all scouting relays. Their realm has no mana sensitivity. They'll never know we're watching."
The mage bowed. "As you command."
Earth Side....
Temporary command tent, 18:52 local time
The tent was dimly lit, lit mostly by field monitors and the faint red glow of comm consoles. Military representatives from multiple nations stood gathered around a central display. The screen showed an aerial heatmap—grainy, distorted—but clear enough.
A blinking red mark hovered mid-air:
Unidentified Energy Object – Designated Echo-1
Altitude: 132.4m
Status: Stationary
Visibility: None
Threat: Unknown
Brigadier General leaned forward, expression tight.
"Confirmed again just now. Not mechanical. Not natural. We've got a 50-centimeter object floating in our airspace. Emitting unknown radiation. Positioned precisely over our engineer line. Cloaked. And it's been there since at least 0500 this morning."
A Canadian officer crossed his arms. "And it hasn't moved?"
"Only slightly—reacted to one of flame accident. Then resumed original position."
A French colonel frowned. "Why didn't radar catch it?"
"Rift interference kills most active scans," Brigadier General replied. "We caught this using passive thermal and low-band pulse echo."
"What's it doing?" asked the Japanese colonel.
Brigadier General looked at the screen. "Watching."
A pause.
The German commander finally asked what they were all thinking:"Do we shoot it down?"
The tent fell silent.
"No visual," someone murmured. "You'd be firing blind."
A US Captain spoke next. "We could calibrate a high-gain anti-material laser. Aim for the coordinates. Minimal kinetic damage risk."
"Or EMP blast," the British Captain added. "Knocks it down without triggering detonation—if it's armed."
"If it's even real," muttered the French colonel. "We haven't seen it."
"It's real," Brigadier General said sharply. "The science team verified it across five spectrums. It's hovering, active, and right over our heads."
Another beat.
Then the Mongolian military representative—Colonel Tsogtbaatar—finally spoke.
"If we shoot first, we send a message: hostile intent. We confirm we are afraid. Or worse—aggressive."
"We can't afford to be passive either," the Japanese officer countered. "This could be the first probe. The first test."
Brigadier General pinched the bridge of his nose. "We're not dealing with a known threat profile. We don't know what rules they follow. We don't even know if they see us as life forms or ants."
The room fell into tense silence again.
Then Brigadier General turned to the communications officer.
"Log the object. Continue passive monitoring. No active aggression. No lasers. No missiles."
A few murmurs broke out—uncertain.
"But," he added, "if the orb moves closer than the agreed no-fly perimeter, or shows signs of signal disruption, we escalate to containment protocol."
"And if it attacks?" asked the US representative.
Brigadier General looked at the red blinking dot.
"Then we hit back."
Logged Directive:
UNFOR-SPEC-ORBITAL ENTITY (Echo-1)
– DO NOT ENGAGE
– Maintain passive surveillance
– Calibrate strike packages for remote neutralization (contingency only)
– All changes in behavior to be reported hourly