Wake Up

Bloc 4, Sector 8 – Dustmere

Kaelin and Rio walked through the bustling streets of the sector. Their school was off for the day, so the two boys decided to check out some new hologram cartridges for Kaelin’s X-65 console.

Even amidst the noise and chaos of the afternoon crowd, Kaelin’s mind kept drifting back to last night’s argument between his parents.

“You know that Silas is wrongfully accused!”

“That boy has never done anything wrong in his entire life, and you know it. Then why aren’t you doing anything?”

“I know that, Sellira, I do… but—he was caught in the act. The Protocol doesn’t make mistakes.”

“You’re going to trust a millennium-old AI program from god knows where over Silas? I raised that boy, Darian! After the Rehns died, I took him in and raised him like a son!”

“You say that like I didn’t?! But can’t you see we can’t go against the Protocol? Do I have to spell it out for you what happens when we break the rules?!”

“So you’re giving up on our son… because you can’t go against the AI?!”

Kaelin had been lying silently in the dark of his room, just listening. He could hear his mother’s sobs echoing in the hallway.

“I never wanted him to study in another bloc… never wanted him to take that part-time taxi gig. Oh, I can’t even imagine what he’s going through.”

“I understand, Sellira. I do. I’ve talked to the lawyer. But he says the Protocol can’t be wrong. Don’t cry… please. We’ll think of something. Please.”

---

“Kaelin. Kaelin! HEY!”

Rio’s voice jolted Kaelin back to the present. “What are you thinking about?”

“N-nothing. What happened?”

“Did you hear?” Rio said, his eyes practically glowing. “An envoy from Bloc 2 is coming! They’re passing through here on their way to the Bloc Hall in the Capital!”

Kaelin nodded. “Dad mentioned it this morning while reading his holo-news.”

“Let’s go and see them, Kaelin!”

Kaelin knew this request was coming. He didn’t really want to go—his thoughts were still heavy—but it wasn’t every day that an envoy from another bloc came through their sector. Especially not from Velmara.

They made their way to the sector plaza, where the procession would pass. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Bloc 2—Velmara—was a bloc of elites. Wealthy merchants, nobles, and dignitaries. And they made no secret of their disdain for Aurum Vale and its “simple” people.

The road was barricaded off. Kaelin and Rio, through a heroic amount of slipping, squirming, and elbowing, managed to snag a front-row spot.

Just then, all the screens flickered and flashed in unison.

A Light Noble appeared.

Same emotionless expression. Same glassy, robotic eyes. But this one was a man—with black hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

“Hello citizens of Dustmere. I am Light Noble Sa’rin, code 0087. Please welcome Councilman X’ak’tu of Velmara.”

As the announcement ended, a loud cheer erupted up ahead.

The procession arrived.

Guard robots led the way. Behind them, two massive RNG-600 land cruisers hummed past. Then came it—a long, luxurious car, white as starlight, its alloy of gold and platinum glinting in the sun. Even from a distance, Kaelin could see the diamond-studded handles. The wheels glided like butter. The rims shimmered in platinum.

“Damn! That’s the Veldetrik GlideMarch Sovereign!!” someone screamed.

“There’s only two of them in the entire world!” said a man beside Rio.

Rio leaned toward Kaelin. “You think he came by road just to show off? He could’ve flown straight to the Capital. Heck, he could’ve used the teleporter.”

Kaelin thought the same. Why travel by land through Aurum Vale, unless to rub it in?

Before he could respond, a blinding flash caught their eyes—not from the car, but from a man.

Long brownish hair in a ponytail. A beard. Dressed head to toe in gold and diamonds. Chains around his neck, rings of every gem on every finger.

Councilman X’ak’tu.

He waved at the crowd with smug arrogance, as if he were doing them a favor.

“Now that’s a noteworthy man,” someone whispered.

Rio opened his mouth to speak again—when chaos struck.

Three people jumped the barricade.

One threw a small object—BANG!

A crackling shockwave.

The robots collapsed mid-step, lifeless on the street. Panic erupted.

The girl among the rebels drew a pistol from her side bag and fired three warning shots in the air. Bang-Bang-Bang!!

The crowd froze.

Kaelin felt his stomach twist into knots. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. This was real.

One rebel was already on top of the car. Gun pointed straight at X’ak’tu. The councilman’s face turned ghostly pale.

The man turned toward the crowd and shouted:

“People of Aurum Vale!

I am Elric Dane.

I am a man. I am a rebel. But above all—

I am a human.

And I am here to wake you up.”

Silence fell.

Not even one breath.

“For too long we’ve been quiet. You call this peace?

This walking in silence… speaking in whispers?

This is not peace.

It’s obedience. Forced obedience."

"We were not born to be sheep under a metal shepherd.We were born to choose.

To stumble.

To stand.

To make our destiny.

To be human.”

Kaelin’s heart thundered in his chest. These weren’t just words. They meant something. They stirred something in him. Something deep.

“They say the Protocol saved us.

And maybe, long ago, it did. But salvation without freedom is just a prettier kind of prison."

"For a thousand years, we’ve obeyed a voice that cannot bleed…

Cannot love…

Cannot forgive…

Cannot hope, and yet it commands us to live by its will?”

Elric raised his voice, passion flaring.

“I’m not here to destroy your world.

I’m here to remind you…

This world was yours to begin with.”

“The citizens are silent.

The government stays silent.

And the AI tightens its grip, day after day after day—how much—”

ZWEEEEEN.

A spear of light.

The man was hit mid-sentence, dropping like a marionette with cut strings.

The light struck again. ZWEEEEEN.

And again. ZWEEEEEN.

Three lights. Three shots.

The rebels dropped, motionless. Smoke curled from their charred bodies.

Far above, on the northern tower of the city, a figure pulled back a massive sniper rifle. Shadow cloaked his form. His eyes glowed like coals.

“This is DN-0180. All three targets neutralized. Requesting envoy escort and rebel detainment.”

Back at the plaza, panic swelled again.

The screens flickered. Sa’rin returned:

“Requesting all citizens evacuate the area immediately. The envoy will now be escorted to the Capital.”

Robots and guards flooded the streets. Councilman X’ak’tu, white as a sheet, sealed himself inside his car and began chugging champagne.

The rebels’ bodies were removed. The procession accelerated. The crowd dispersed.

Kaelin stood frozen. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t move.

So much had happened so fast.

The car. The diamonds.

The man—Elric.

His words.

That speech.

It was like lightning through Kaelin’s chest.

And then, the light. That sound. The bodies.

“Wheewww! What a day!” Rio exhaled. “I almost forgot to breathe! My heart’s about to burst! That light—that sound?! It looked like a spear made of light!!" 

Kaelin didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

Something inside him had been stirred.

"Let's just go home" he said.

Obel Varn Penitentiary – Visitors' Room

Silas sat alone, humming softly to himself. His lawyer was supposed to arrive today but hadn’t shown up yet. He let his thoughts drift to the past two days. Since being released from the infirmary, no one had dared to lay a finger on him.

When he returned to his cell, he’d learned that Grandos had requested a transfer and now stayed elsewhere. The rest of the inmates kept their distance. Silas spoke to no one, and no one approached him. Even Grandos and his crew gave him a wide berth.

He’d noticed Grandos had a fresh scar over his left eye—a nasty one. Silas suspected it had something to do with Amar. That man was strange, enigmatic. Silas hadn’t seen him in any common areas—not during meals, not at recess, nowhere. But his name carried weight.

Whispers followed it. During lunch, inmates would glance at Silas, mutter Amar’s name under their breath. It unsettled him. There was power in those murmurs.

Then, finally, the lawyer arrived. Silas sat up eagerly. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, the man got straight to the point.

 “It’s not looking good for you, Mr. Rehn. You're still pleading not guilty, still accusing the Protocol of being wrong… but we’re not making progress in either direction.”

“I told you—I’m not guilty!” Silas snapped. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wasn’t their driver. I was forced—at gunpoint!”

 “But the evidence says otherwise. Surveillance, records, everything. If you’d blamed a person—any person or robot—maybe. But you’re accusing the Protocol itself, and everyone knows the Protocol doesn’t make mistakes. That’s the problem. We don’t even have evidence we can present to it on your behalf.”

The lawyer exhaled heavily.

“In this world, our role as lawyers is already limited. The Protocol oversees every citizen’s action. Even civil cases need its input. But accusing the Protocol itself? That’s suicide, Mr. Rehn.”

Silas leaned forward, voice rising. “Just be blunt. Can you prove my innocence—yes or no? I keep telling you the truth, but you're not even trying to listen!”

 “It’s not that simple—”

“Oh, my god. You know what? I’m done talking. Goodbye.”

Silas stood and stormed out. The lawyer called after him a few times, but it was useless. Silas didn’t look back.

As he walked the corridor back to his cell, frustration churned inside him. His mind buzzed with helpless thoughts. He wanted out. He wanted to see his family—see their faces, hear their voices. He was tired of this place. Tired of everyone treating him like a liar.

He was just about to enter his cell when he froze.

Grandos stood in the hallway.

A chill crept down Silas’s spine.

 “Long time no see, cabby,” Grandos said with a crooked grin. “Forgot about your old friend Grandos? That’s no good. No good at all.”

The grin vanished. His face twisted into pure malice.

“Think hiding behind Amar’s gonna save your skin? I don’t care who he is. Rebel or not—I’m not afraid of him. You hear me? I’m gonna kill him. But first…” he leaned in, eyes burning, “I’m gonna kill you. And nothing’s gonna stop me. Not Amar. Not the Rebels. No one.”

With that, Grandos walked off, eyes still locked on Silas like a predator daring him to run.

Silas stood frozen for a whil

e before stumbling into his cell. He sat on the bed, limbs trembling. Grandos would come for him. If not now, then soon.

But even in his fear, one thing lingered:

Grandos was afraid of Amar.

Silas clung to that.

 “Maybe… you’re the only way out of this.”