The Year of Amun & The Sun of Rays

CHAPTER 15:

The Year of Amun & The Sun of Rays

The year is 2049. The Sun Shield has been raised, just as Radon was promised before he died. His sacrifice was a tremendous loss, but it initiated a beautiful synergy of events. The Shield erected from the earth’s radius, revealing a translucent dome that hovered above the planet. The dome, now shielding the earth from harmful solar radiation, seared at its edges as it was battered by relentless solar winds. Its frail nature crusted on the sides, showing signs of wear even as it rose in slow motion to fulfil its purpose.

The Breath of Fresh Light

“Karys, look! It’s New Year’s Eve already,” Rylis shouted, joy illuminating his face but mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Those aren’t fireworks, Ironman,” Karys replied, a mixture of amusement and exasperation in her voice. “It’s not even January yet. Stop being silly.”

They watched the Shield move in awe, its magnificent form scraping against the worn-out, rusted dome that had been eaten away by years of radiation and solar flares. Despite the stark contrast between the new Shield and the decaying remnants of the old, a sense of hope filled the air.

The rivers were drying up all around “Alria, The Land of Nero.” The mountains, darkened by pollution, stood as somber sentinels over the land. Yet, in this harsh environment, life persisted. Trees and flowers still grew, their roots tenaciously clinging to the soil. Animals roamed the land, some of them having turned hybrid as they drank from the chemical-laden waters flowing from Eidolon streams that passed through Alrian waters.

Genpure’s Sect:

The General’s Courtyard

The courtyard is vast, paved with aged marble, cracked and worn from the weight of history. Battle scars stain its edges—faint traces of ash, broken stone, and the lingering scent of something once burned.

At the highest point, overlooking it all, stands General Xerox.

General Xerox stands on the balcony, positioned with his gloved hands gripping the railing as he stares out over the landscape. As he glares out at the rising Sun Shield, his silhouette is framed against its soft glow as it rises from the horizon, an artificial light source slowly unfurling above the city. The glow is golden, warm, but it does little to soothe the deep lines etched into the General’s face.

His thoughts are a tangled mess, a storm of calculations, reports, and regret. His is mind heavy with the responsibility of the mission and the weight of Radon’s sacrifice.

Radon’s sacrifice had left a void that even the weight of war couldn’t compare to.

"Damn it, boy… What the hell were you thinking?"

His jaw tightens. The smoke of an unlit cigar dangles from his lips, shifting slightly as the wind brushes past him.

From behind, a Squadron Navigation Officer approaches, his boots clicking against the marble with sharp precision.

“It’s going to take roughly about a circular period for the Shield to complete, sir,” the officer reports, his voice firm. his tone steady, but his posture rigid with formality. "About... hmmm... let's say three days, maybe less."

The General doesn’t turn to face him.

"Alright, soldier. I need to be adamant about this on time," General Xerox mutters, reaching for the landline on the balcony's ledge. "We don’t have much time."

“ROGER THAT! General,” The officer salutes sharply, his expression unreadable.

"DISMISSED, Squadron." The General says, focusing his glare on the view outside.

As the officer pivots on his heel and departs, General Xerox finally turns his attention to the diagram spread across his desk. The intricate markings, calculations, and lines drawn in thick strokes represent more than just military strategy. It is the roadmap to either survival or total collapse.

Adjusting his glasses, he exhales through his nose, as he reaches for a box of fresh rolled, Cuban made cigars. Shifting the unlit cigar between his fingers, before putting it in between his lips.

The General cannot stop thinking about the future of his army after having lost two of his most efficient leaders. Two pillars that held the frontlines tight and never needed support, until the most critical moment.

He bites hard on the fat cigar, exploring the rich aroma, and the moisture of its royal novelty, before absentmindedly searching his pockets.

“I need a lighter, God Damn It… Scott… SCOTT!” he shouts, searching his pockets for a lighter.

There’s no immediate response. His fingers pat down his military coat, searching through fabric and leather. Frustration settles in his expression.

"SCOTT! Where the hell is my lighter?"

From the far side of the room, a calm, almost lazy voice finally answers.

"You told me to keep it, Sir."

The reply comes from Scott Steward Belvedere, the man assigned to this mission over a year ago following the Second Rite’s attack behind the walls of Giliath. A master of Geography and Social Studies, his expertise has been invaluable—but his sarcastic tone often tested the General’s patience.

Scott stands near the desk, casually biting into a ripened Yellow Apple, the crunch breaking the silence. He doesn’t look up, simply flipping through a series of reports with the ease of a man who had long learned to ignore Xerox’s temper.

"You said I should take care of it for you, Sir, since you wanted to ease out on being a 'Human Chimney'…" Scott adds, his words deliberately slow, as if enjoying the irony.

General Xerox scowls.

"Why so rude?" he mutters, clearing his throat. "I’m only lighting one cigar. I've had two this week. Aren’t you at least happy for me?"

Scott lets out a short laugh.

“Hahaha! General, no time for silly games. We need you in top shape, Sir!” Scott utters.

The General sighs, rolling the unlit cigar between his fingers before narrowing his eyes at Scott.

"Next week… I mean weekend, for the conference, Sir," Scott mentions.

“What is this about now?” The General frowns.

“The Germans! They are coming to discuss the issue with Radon, Sir,” Scott replies.

A beat of silence passes.

The General leans back slightly, rubbing his temple.

“Ohhhhh! The stupid case about the specs and stuff,” General Xerox laughs, his laughter is dry and humorless.

“Yes, Sir, they need to understand why Radon died when he was engineered to self-generate,” Scott murmurs, his voice is quieter now, the weight of the statement pressing into the room.

General Xerox lets the silence linger before scoffing, placing the cigar between his lips once more.

“Those mongrels want to give me a lawsuit,” General Xerox implies, putting his hand in his pocket as he searches for his lighter again.

He opens the side window, to get a bit of sunrise into the room, as he turns his posture back, now looking at Mr. Scott.

Scott remains still.

“I’m sure there must be an explanation for this, Sir. Isn’t Radon’s genetics the same as Voss’s?” Scott asks, curiously.

The General exhales through his nose, finally retrieving a lighter from his inner coat pocket. With a flick, the flame dances briefly before igniting the tip of the cigar. The first inhale is deep, slow, as he steps onto the balcony once more.

“Yeahhhhh! Yeahhhh!... but he had more guts than brains, better than his old man, that I can tell ya!” The General walks out onto the balcony, where he spits down on the pot of the window plant next to the wall before looking out at the night sky.

His voice lacks its usual bravado.

Xerox exhales, watching the smoke coil into the night air before flicking ashes into a ceramic pot near the balcony railing. His gaze drifts upward, locking onto the night sky.

A void of quiet, endless stars.

And in that space—memories.

“Damn it, Radon! Why did you have to bring this mess around my doorstep,”

The words slip from his lips, low and strained.

A gust of wind shifts the smoke, causing it to curl around his frame, blurring his silhouette like a ghostly echo.

"Why did you go too far?"

The tension in his jaw tightens. His fingers tremble just slightly, gripping the edge of the balcony.

"It wasn’t your jurisdiction, God damn it… YOU FOOL!"

The words lash into the night, but the stars offer no response.

Scott glances up from his papers, peering through the open doorway, silently observing the moment.

The General takes another long inhale. This time, his exhale is slower.

Softer.

"You didn’t…" His voice lowers to a whisper. "You shouldn’t have died on me, my boy."

General Xerox continues to scour his mind as his smoking cloak of clouds covers the entire upper tier. The balcony fills with smoke, leaving no space for the camera to zoom in. A simple space of thought and territory, just a haze of regret, and lingering loss.

Beyond the misted courtyard, The Sun Shield continues to rise, casting its gentle glow over the landscape. The promise of a new dawn and a brighter future hang in the air. A beacon of hope for a world still healing from its wounds.

A new beginning.

A future still uncertain.

But for now, General Xerox remains frozen in the past.

Alria’s Moment of Reconciling

The night carried on, filled with a mix of joy and solemn remembrance. As the translucent dome of the Sun Shield continued to rise, the light from the stars above seemed to shimmer in solidarity. The ancient symbols etched into the Shield glowed softly, a testament to the hope and protection it now provided.

Back at the Library of Knossos, the atmosphere was tense with anticipation and unresolved grief. The weight of Radon’s sacrifice lingered heavily over Nova, Karys, and Rylis. They continued their work, each of them driven by the need to honor Radon’s legacy.

Nova, despite her sorrow, poured herself into her research, seeking answers and solutions that could further their cause. She was determined to make Radon’s sacrifice count, to ensure that his legacy would lead to a brighter future for the world. Karys and Rylis, their bond strengthened by their shared loss, worked tirelessly by Nova’s side. They knew that the road ahead was fraught with challenges, but their determination and commitment kept them moving forward.

She stood silently by the window of her laboratory, gazing out as trumpets sang in celebration, while watching the Shield rise in awe. The scouts were outside praising the Shield as they sang and played on their various instruments, thanking Radon for his sacrifice, and for gracing their kingdom with hope and protection. The weight of her grief still pressed heavily on her heart, but there was a sense of peace knowing that Radon’s sacrifice had not been in vain. She could feel his presence guiding her, a beacon of strength in these tumultuous times.

As the Shield continued to rise, the people of Alria began to see the first signs of hope. The rivers, once tainted and dry, started to show signs of recovery. The trees and flowers, their roots deeply entrenched in the soil, thrived despite the pollution. The hybrid animals, adapted to the harsh conditions, became symbols of resilience and adaptability.

The scouts and citizens of Alria gathered, their faces turned toward the Shield, their voices raised in praise and gratitude. Radon’s name was on their lips, his sacrifice a beacon of hope that guided them through the darkness.

Rylis stumbled a bit, as he poured another glass of Saké into his small potted clay cup. A cup specially made for drinking fermented wine, that is fruity in taste and less acidic than most at that might degrade the cup itself.

“To Radon,” Rylis toasted, his voice slightly slurred but filled with respect. “The bravest man I’ve ever known.”

Karys joined him, lifting her own glass. “To Radon,” she echoed, her eyes shimmering with tears. “His sacrifice will never be forgotten.”

He is slightly tipsy from the joyous atmosphere as he burps, shaking his head as he poured another glass. His steps unsteady but his spirit lifted. His normally light-hearted demeanor tempered by the reality of their loss. “To Radon,” he repeated, his voice steadier now, the respect in his tone unmistakable.

Karys nodded, clinking her glass against his. “To Radon,” she said again, her voice filled with determination. “His legacy will live on through us.”

As the night wore on, the celebration continued outside, with scouts praising the Shield and the land of Alria slowly beginning to heal.

Inside the Library, Nova watched through the window, her heart heavy with grief but filled with a renewed sense of purpose. She knew that they had a long journey ahead, but with the Shield standing guard and Radon’s spirit guiding them, they could face whatever challenges came their way.

Nova turned her attention back to her work. There was still much to be done, and Radon’s memory fueled her drive. Despite the challenges they still faced, the Shield’s presence was a beacon of hope. It was a testament to Radon’s bravery and a reminder of the potential for renewal and protection. She knew that she could not afford to be overwhelmed by her grief; she had to press on for the sake of the world he had given his life to protect.

Nova, lost in her thoughts, felt a mix of pride and sorrow. Radon’s legacy was one of courage and selflessness. He had given his life to protect the world, and now it was their duty to carry that legacy forward.

Karys and Rylis joined her, their bond stronger than ever. They knew that their mission was far from over and that they needed to continue working together to ensure a brighter future. The Sun Shield was a symbol of their hope and resilience, but it was also a reminder of the challenges they still faced.

Karys approached Nova, her voice soft but resolute. “We’ll make it through this, Nova. Radon’s sacrifice won’t be in vain.”

“We have to keep moving forward,” Nova said, her voice resolute. “Radon gave us this chance, and we can’t waste it."

Karys nodded, her eyes filled with determination. “We will. We’ll fight for the future he believed in.”

Rylis, ever the pragmatist, added, “And we’ll make sure that the world knows what he did for us. We’ll honor his memory by completing our mission.”

Nova nodded; her eyes filled with determination. “You’re right. We’ll honor his memory by continuing our mission, and fighting for a better world.”

Rylis, ever the pragmatist, exclaimed. “And we’ll make sure that the world knows what Radon did for us. His legacy will inspire others to fight for the future he believed in."

As they stood together, united by their shared purpose, and unwavering commitment, the future seemed a little less daunting. They had faced loss and grief, but they had also found strength in their bond and the hope that Radon’s sacrifice had given them. The journey was far from over, but with their bond and Radon’s legacy guiding them, they knew they could overcome any obstacle. The year of Amun, son of Rays, had dawned, and with it came the promise of a brighter future.

The Sun Shield continued to rise, it was still due to complete its radius in another 48 hours, a symbol of protection and renewal. The rivers of Alria, though still tainted, began to show signs of recovery. The trees and flowers persisted, their roots reaching deeper into the soil as the land slowly healed.

Nova, Karys, and Rylis knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but they were ready to face it together. With Radon’s spirit guiding them and the Sun Shield standing guard, they believed they could overcome any obstacle.

Together, as they watched the Shield rise, they would honor Radon’s legacy and continue the fight for a better world. The future seemed a little brighter, the air a little clearer. The journey was far from over, what was ahead was still fraught with challenges, but with the Sun Shield standing guard and Radon’s spirit guiding them, they believed they could face whatever lay ahead. Together, they would honor his memory and continue the fight for a better world. With their unbreakable bond and unwavering determination, they knew they could face whatever came their way. The year of Amun, son of Rays, had dawned, and with it came the promise of a brighter future.

12 Days Earlier,

About a Week and 5 Days Before Today

The camera zooms in and out of Nova’s face, capturing the raw grief and despair etched into her features. Dust falls from the camera lens, mirroring the mission’s murkiness as it becomes clouded with dust and sand. The scene dynamically transitions back to “The Chambers of Secrets.”

Radon’s body lies rigid on the marble floor, shrouded in the dim light of the chambers. Stillness fills the room, and his suit remains intact, neither exploded nor imploded—at least not yet.

Suddenly, a light of stars envelops his body, lifting it and placing it onto a grey stone. A cylindrical sarcophagus emerges, engulfing his entire body. The sarcophagus is inscribed with unknown symbols and letters resembling those found in the ruins of Solara Prime. Surrounding these inscriptions is a wave of seas, two clovers circling the coffin on each side, and a rain of fire engraved over the lid, depicting the transition of the Red Sun to the Purple Sun.

Radon’s body, now preserved by The Arbiter, lies still with no signs of life. The chamber hums with an eerie silence, broken only by the Arbiter’s voice.

“You are not your father, my lad…” The Arbiter’s words echo through the depths of the chamber as it coils around, its presence both daunting and mysterious.