Chapter: Throne of Ashes and Silence
The Amazon had gone quiet.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet—the kind that comes after extinction.
Smoke rose in long, lazy pillars where forests once breathed. Metal lay twisted like dead insects. Concrete bunkers had been reduced to slag and powdered stone, their foundations cracked as if the earth itself had rejected them.
Rivers carried ash instead of leaves. The sky above bore the faint shimmer of lingering blue-green energy, as though reality had been scorched and forgotten to heal.
Out of 178 military camps, not one answered.
Somewhere in the oceans — Military Surveillance Command
The chamber was cold.
Not physically—but emotionally.
Screens lined the walls, each one previously assigned to a different Amazonian operation:
research units, black-ops facilities, gene labs, ecological observation posts, security camps disguised as humanitarian bases.
One by one, they had gone dark.
A senior military official stood frozen, hands clenched behind his back, staring at the central holographic projection.
Disconnected.
Signal lost.
No life signs detected.
Again.
Again.
Again.
"Run satellite override," he snapped, his voice tight.
An operator complied, fingers trembling.
The satellite feed shifted.
What appeared made the room fall into absolute silence.
Camps that should have been fortified with steel walls and automated turrets were gone. Not damaged. Not overrun.
Erased.
Trees had grown through melted bunkers. Massive claw marks scarred mountainsides. Some locations showed perfect circular annihilation zones, where even bacteria should not have survived.
And in several feeds—
Bones.
Human bones.
Weapons crushed like toys.
And footprints.
Massive. Primal. Not human. Not animal.
The official whispered, barely audible:
"…This isn't an insurgency."
He swallowed.
"This is a kingdom rising."
Deep Within the Primal Domain — The Throne Hall
The throne chamber was carved from the living earth.
Roots thicker than skyscrapers formed the ceiling, glowing faintly with silver veins of ancient energy. Bioluminescent moss illuminated the hall in shades of emerald and sapphire. The air vibrated with power—authority, not magic.
At the center sat the Ape King.
Not lounging.
Not resting.
Ruling.
His throne was formed from fused stone, bone, and gold scavenged from human vaults—engraved unknowingly with symbols older than language. Behind him, banners made from repurposed military fabric bore claw-etched insignias: the mark of the Primal Army.
Before the throne—
Daniel and Lauren.
Bound. Kneeling. Broken.
Daniel's eyes were hollow now. The man who once commanded hundreds with a satellite phone now couldn't even lift his head without permission. Lauren's hands shook as she finished setting up the satellite television, her movements mechanical, fear having burned away defiance.
The screen flickered to life.
Global news.
Emergency broadcasts.
Words like unknown entity, biological disaster, classified extinction event flashed briefly before feeds cut or changed.
The Ape King watched.
Expression unreadable.
Then he spoke—slow, heavy, each word carrying the weight of judgment.
"You came here for trophies."
His voice echoed like thunder rolling through stone.
"You hunted life for profit.
You caged what you didn't understand.
You called yourselves apex."
He leaned forward.
"Now watch what an apex really is."
Daniel collapsed, forehead hitting the ground.
Lauren sobbed silently.
Beyond the Throne — The Training Grounds
Outside, beneath the colossal canopy, Marc moved like a living weapon.
He stood in his controlled hybrid form—still humanoid, but unmistakably inhuman. His reptilian skin shimmered faintly under the filtered sunlight. Muscles layered over muscles, dense beyond biological logic. His eyes—vertical pupils—tracked movement with predatory clarity.
Around him stood hundreds.
Apes. Gorillas. Monkeys. Jaguars. Even creatures once considered solitary or territorial now stood together.
Not as animals.
As soldiers.
Marc barked commands—not in human language, but through controlled vocalizations, gestures, pheromonal cues, and primal rhythms the evolved minds understood instantly.
He demonstrated.
A gorilla mirrored him—perfectly.
A troop of monkeys executed flanking maneuvers using trees like terrain features.
Jaguars practiced silent kill formations.
Even birds acted as reconnaissance units.
This wasn't chaos.
This was doctrine.
"Instinct isn't weakness," Marc muttered to himself.
"It's just unrefined intelligence."
The Ape King watched from above, unseen, approval radiating silently.
War Trophies of a Fallen Civilization
The Primal Army moved efficiently.
Crates of canned food. Medical supplies. Seeds—thousands of varieties. Raw ore. Fuel. Firearms stripped of unnecessary complexity. Maps. Blueprints,secret files,secret services agent details e.t.c
Nothing was wasted.
What couldn't be used was studied.
What couldn't be studied was destroyed.
The jungle adapted.
Back in the Throne Hall
The Ape King rose.
The chamber shook—not violently, but respectfully, as though the earth itself acknowledged his movement.
He approached Daniel.
Lifted his chin with a single finger.
"You wanted to understand evolution."
Daniel's lips quivered.
"You thought it was genes, experiments, control."
The Ape King's eyes burned faintly blue-green.
"Evolution is authority asserting itself."
He turned away.
"You will live.
Not because you deserve it—
but because witnesses shape legends."
Lauren screamed softly as guards dragged them away.
Elsewhere — Governments Begin to Panic
Emergency summits were called.
Satellites repositioned.
Drones sent.
None returned.
Analysts argued.
Scientists denied.
Generals sweated.
Because buried beneath classified files, deep in forgotten archives, a term resurfaced:
PRIMAL ASCENDANT EVENT
And beside it—
A warning written centuries ago in symbols no one had taken seriously:
When the King of Instinct awakens,
Civilizations will remember why they once feared the forest.
Final Scene — The King Alone
Night fell.
The Ape King sat once more upon his throne.
Around him, his domain breathed—alive, aware, evolving.
He closed his eyes.
And somewhere deep beneath the earth, ancient doors trembled.
Not opening.
Not yet.
Waiting.
Because conquest was no longer the goal.
Inheritance was.
TO BE CONTINUED.....