Episode 17: In My Place
Amazonas: Between Cipo and Cacaia, Midst the Cursed Jungle.
Amidst the deafening roar of rotor blades echoing over the dense canopy, a CIA vanguard unit was underway on a top-secret mission commanded by Hoto. Scouting for a Black Hawk landing zone in this forest was a pilot’s living nightmare. Scanners worked overtime, struggling to identify ground firm enough to support the craft, filtering through treacherous quicksand pits and flooded marshes concealed beneath the emerald shadows.
Once a viable coordinate was detected, two elite soldiers rappelled down from the helicopter immediately. They deployed heavy-duty power tools to clear the vegetation with frantic urgency, all while the eerie, skin-crawling atmosphere of the "Cursed Jungle" loomed over them. Finally, the Black Hawk’s skids touched solid ground.
Four soldiers, burdened with massive ground-detection gear, trekked deeper into the wilderness toward a point where their scanners had picked up an anomalous object. They left two officers behind at the craft to serve as a primary base of operations.
Communication was a convoluted, grueling ordeal. They were forced to launch drones high above the towering treetops to act as signal relays, bouncing data to a warship stationed in Venezuelan waters before beaming it up to satellites and straight into Area 51. Every step taken into the lightless thicket was plagued by flickering, distorted signals—as if the jungle itself was exerting its full will to "shut out" the intrusion of outsiders.
A few hours later.
Twelve elite operatives of The Globallist Force, acting on Hoto’s direct command, plummeted from the edge of space like a volley of black rain. Clad in state-of-the-art V Sonic flight suits, they descended at terminal velocity, their descent engineered to be friction-glow-free to bypass every known radar system.
The twelve soldiers decelerated, hovering silently above the canopy where the signal drone remained stationed. But the thermal imagery bleeding into their visors forced them into a sudden, rigid halt.
“Status check... why is there smoke rising from down there?” one soldier hissed over the comms.
As they zoomed in with high-definition optics, the image that materialized was a nightmare: the wreckage of the Black Hawk, twisted and engulfed in a roaring inferno. More grisly still, all six CIA operatives who had arrived earlier... were now nothing but corpses.
The superhuman unit wasted no time, transitioning into a silent, tactical descent. The moment their boots touched the forest floor, the true scale of the devastation became clear. The Black Hawk hadn't exploded from a mechanical failure—it had been crushed and mangled by massive boulders hurled from a great height.
The bodies of the six human soldiers were riddled with poisoned blowpipe darts, some beaten into unrecognizable shapes. Spent brass casings littered the area, a testament to the CIA team’s blind, panicked spray of gunfire before the end. But amidst the hundreds of barefoot prints encircling the site, there was one set of tracks that made even these enhanced warriors catch their breath.
“Is this a giant or what, Commander? Look at the size of this footprint... I could lay down and take a nap inside it!” a soldier reported, his voice wavering as he stared at a gargantuan footprint pressed deep into the mud beside the charred remains of the helicopter.
“Look at these darts... the primitive handiwork of savages who’ve never seen civilization,” the unit commander spat, disdainfully kicking a poisoned dart on the muddy ground. “Forget them. Since the CIA was pathetic enough to get wiped out, we’ll have to find it ourselves. Their equipment is nothing but scrap metal now... If it weren’t for the Master’s orders to keep this mission ‘silent,’ I’d burn this entire godforsaken jungle to the ground!”
He spoke with a seething rage, his teeth gritted in fury. The remaining soldiers stood motionless, their eyes cold and clinical behind their steel visors, awaiting the next command.
“Activate personal barriers immediately!” the commander barked. “Our V Sonic suits might be rated for ballistic impact, but I won’t take any chances with these forest-dwelling vermin.”
Upon the command, the twelve superhuman warriors unleashed their power. This was no mechanical activation—they channeled energy from within, manifesting translucent energy barriers that coated their bodies in a faint, shimmering blue aura.
“Move fast. The Master warned that others are seeking the same prize. We will not be the ones to bring shame upon this unit!”
With a collective surge of power, all twelve soldiers levitated off the ground, taking flight through their own innate abilities. They engaged the advanced scanning arrays within their V Sonic helmets, layering high-tech data over their own predatory instincts to locate the precious objective. They remained blissfully unaware that the "Giant"—the owner of those gargantuan footprints—was lurking in the deepest shadows, its eyes locked onto the invaders buzzing through the canopy, watching their every move with lethal patience.
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Area 51: The Airfield
BOOM!!! A thunderous aerial explosion detonated, echoing violently across the entire Area 51 airfield. The massive shockwave from the Sonic Boom sent tremors through the structures, causing glass windows to rattle and shatter. Ground personnel and soldiers scrambled in utter panic as red alert sirens wailed throughout the secret installation. Troops grabbed their weapons and deployed omnidirectional sensors, desperately trying to lock onto an invisible intruder.
General Miller, upon receiving reports of the unexplained blast, sprinted toward the command center, his face pale with dread. "What happened?! Who is breaching our perimeter?!" he roared.
Yet... deep within the confines of his private office, Master Hoto remained seated in his usual chair, behind the same desk, completely unfazed. He showed not a single trace of alarm at the explosive chaos unfolding outside. On the contrary, his face twisted into a cold, cryptic smirk, laden with hidden agendas.
But most terrifying of all were Hoto’s eyes. They were no longer those of a mere mortal; they now shimmered with a brilliant, predatory crimson glow, like burning rubies ignited in the darkness—staring straight ahead as if piercing through the very fabric of dimensions toward his ultimate prize!
The moment General Miller burst into the command center, his eyes locked onto the primary monitors. He froze for a split second before barking orders at his subordinates with a sudden, sharp intensity.
“Shut down all the alarms, now! Have you all forgotten? That is Lord Ben... Ben Benedict!”
The operators in the control tower scrambled to deactivate the sirens, and the piercing wails gradually faded into a heavy silence. On the screens, the figure of an elderly man materialized, stepping out from a shimmering vortex of heat haze. This was Ben Benedict—a man of striking handsomeness, his silver beard and hair meticulously groomed. Standing at 178 cm, he radiated the sophisticated, commanding aura of a true English gentleman.
Though his hair was slightly tousled from the immense atmospheric pressure, he remained impeccably elegant in a crisp white suit, a light blue shirt, and a stark white necktie. He completed the ensemble with sky-blue socks and polished white crocodile leather shoes that caught the light with every step.
“B-but sir, Lord Ben usually arrives in his stylish private jet, unhurried and composed. And he always gives us prior notice,” a control tower officer stammered, still reeling from the unannounced arrival that had nearly leveled the base.
“Master Hoto must have summoned him with extreme urgency!” Miller snapped, hurriedly straightening his own uniform. “Move! Send a welcoming party to greet Lord Ben immediately. Do not let there be even a hint of disrespect!”
In the middle of the airfield, still shrouded in a dense cloud of dust from Lord Ben’s lightning-fast arrival, a group of low-ranking soldiers scrambled to deploy a luxury Rolls-Royce, hoping to receive him with the highest honors. But before the vehicle could even cover half the distance, Lord Ben moved again!
BOOM!!! A second Sonic Boom roared, even more violent than the first. Lord Ben surged forward at supersonic speed for a short burst of no more than 500 meters. The sheer atmospheric pressure slammed into the luxury car, flipping it multiple times and tossing it aside like a discarded toy.
When Lord Ben came to a sudden halt at the main entrance, the residual shockwave caused the surrounding CCTV cameras to shatter and explode. But the most gruesome sight of all was the two sentries guarding the door; they never even had a chance to scream. Their bodies were literally torn asunder by the immense air pressure, reduced to mere fragments of flesh in the blink of an eye!
“My apologies... I’m in a bit of a hurry,”
Lord Ben remarked softly, a faint, remorseless smirk playing on his lips. He nonchalantly straightened his pristine white suit, smoothed his hair, and adjusted his silver beard back to its impeccable, dapper state—instantly regaining his aura of an English gentleman. He then began to stride calmly toward the interior. As he approached, the heavy steel reinforced doors slid open of their own accord, as if recoiling in terror from the sheer power of the man.
As the steel doors slid open, a VIP golf cart and its military driver stood waiting. The moment the driver’s eyes darted past Lord Ben’s silhouette toward the mangled remains of his fellow soldiers at the gate, his face drained of all color. He began to gag, his stomach churning in visceral horror.
“I wouldn't do that if I were you... it will ruin the upholstery,” Lord Ben warned in a voice as cold as ice.
Paralyzed by sheer terror, the driver desperately tried to swallow back the bile. But his body betrayed him; a small amount of vomit escaped before he could snap to attention and clamp his hand over his mouth.
“How utterly repulsive.”
Lord Ben muttered with a flicker of annoyance. He made a subtle, crushing gesture with his hand in mid-air. In a heartbeat, the soldier’s body was imploded where he stood! A spray of blood and tissue erupted in every direction, yet not a single crimson drop touched Ben’s pristine white suit—repelled by an invisible, shimmering energy barrier.
Lord Ben didn't even cast a glance at the carnage left behind. He began to levitate slightly above the floor, gliding elegantly down the corridor. Every soldier he passed froze instantly, snapping into a salute while trembling uncontrollably. Even General Miller, who was sprinting back toward Hoto, skidded to a halt and stood at rigid attention to show the highest form of respect.
Lord Ben’s gaze swept past them as if they were nothing more than thin air. His pure white figure drifted through the hall toward Master Hoto’s office, leaving nothing but the chilling scent of death in his wake…
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Mount Kailash: The Life Capsule Chamber
Sssssss!! The sound of pressurized air venting hissed through the room as five capsule lids slid open in rapid succession. Victor scrambled to grab a large cloak, wrapping it around Cris’s grandfather—the last one to emerge from the simulation. Meanwhile, Yuri, who was already poised for action, swiftly escorted Cris’s father, mother, and siblings to a separate recovery ward for immediate care.
A faint mist of black Nanobots from Prom drifted over them, settling silently onto their skin to begin the instantaneous process of cellular restoration and biological rebalancing.
Within the recovery ward, a minor state of panic began to unfold. Cris’s father, mother, and younger siblings were all wearing expressions of sheer, unadulterated terror!
“What on earth is happening?! Weren’t we just sitting there watching the news about Cris on TV a second ago?” Cris’s father exclaimed, glancing around the dizzyingly futuristic room. To make matters worse, they were all completely naked, causing a frantic scramble to cover themselves with whatever fabric they could find.
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As the four of them argued in a blur of confusion, Cris and Victor wheeled the grandfather’s bed into the room. Unlike the others, the grandfather remained serene; his eyes held a glimmer of understanding that seemed far deeper than anyone else’s.
But the moment Lars and Astrid (Cris’s parents) caught sight of the man on the bed, their embarrassment vanished instantly, replaced by a collective gasp of profound shock.
“Father! How—how can you possibly be here?!” Astrid cried out, her voice trembling with disbelief.
While the adults were paralyzed by shock, the children—Cris’s younger siblings, Bjorn and Liv—showed not a single shred of fear.
“This is so cool! How is this even possible, big brother?!” Bjorn exclaimed, his eyes sparkling as he scanned the futuristic surroundings. Liv chimed in with a wide grin, “I feel all tingly and light, like I’m floating!”
The golden-blonde family, long separated by fate, was now miraculously reunited in the most improbable of places. Larsstared at his father, Erik, with utter disbelief. “Father... what happened to you? How do you look so... young?!”
At that precise moment, Lord Ren stepped into the recovery ward, leading Master Tenzin behind him. Ren’s compact, 80-cm frame—entirely white from his skin to his form-fitting suit—caused the newly awakened family to freeze in their tracks.
“Your recovery will be exceptionally swift, as Prom is utilizing Nanobots for your restoration. Do not try to brush away that black dust; it is a potent healing agent,” Ren announced, his voice resonating with an authority that belied his stature.
The family members, who had been instinctively swatting at the black particles, immediately stopped. they looked down at Ren with bewildered expressions, noting that his height barely reached that of a kindergartner. Sensing their patronizing glances regarding his size, Ren immediately levitated off the floor until he was at eye level with everyone in the room, determined to maintain his divine persona. The family gasped in awe as he defied gravity like a true sorcerer.
“Am I having some kind of fever dream...?” Lars muttered to himself, his head spinning as he surveyed the ultra-modern ward before fixing his gaze on his eldest son, Cris, who stood by his grandfather’s bedside, head bowed in a silent plea for forgiveness.
A heavy silence descended upon the room. Cris knew all too well that he owed a mountain of explanations to his parents, who had just skirted the edge of death because of the path he had chosen.
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The Gathering of Disciples: Area 51
“So, you’ve arrived... my cherished disciple,”
Hoto greeted him in a low, resonant baritone. His shimmering crimson eyes were fixed intently on Lord Ben, who had just stepped through the threshold.
“Yes, Master... whatever service you require, please, give the command,” Ben Benedict—the man who looked down upon the entire world—bowed his head in submissive obedience. He kept his gaze lowered, fixed on his impeccably polished, spotless crocodile leather shoes.
“It seems it must be you once again... the others appear unable to handle the situation. I shall have to trouble you once more, my dear disciple. Ha, ha, ha!” Hoto’s powerful laughter echoed, causing the very air in the room to vibrate. Ben remained in silent, loyal attendance.
“Excellent... this is exactly why I hold you all in such high regard.”
Before Hoto’s voice could even fade, the heavy doors were pushed open once more. Another man entered the chamber. He possessed the distinct features of a pure-blooded Tibetan, clad in jet-black Lamaist robes. Standing at 168 cm, his build was lean and imposing. His shoulder-length hair partially veiled his face, masking the lethal radiance that flickered within.
“What is your will, Master... please, command me,” Drapa, another of Hoto’s disciples, spoke in a raspy yet potent voice. Though he appeared over a thousand years old—his body withered yet tempered like forged steel—he carried himself with the same chilling composure as Lord Ben. The aura of death emanating from him was equally overwhelming.
Due to Drapa’s unwavering attachment to his ancient Lamaist robes and his lack of proficiency in English, he was mostly kept within the confines of Area 51, reserved for special operations in India, Nepal, or China. This stood in stark contrast to Lord Ben, whose modern sensibilities and multilingualism made him the frequent choice for global missions. But this time... the stakes were far too high for a solo operation.
“It is time for you to revisit your old home, Drapa...” Hoto stated, his voice laced with a lethal edge. “I believe you possess the power to raze that place to the ground and retrieve the prize... Prom! Once I reclaim what is rightfully mine, you shall both receive everything we agreed upon—be it the ultimate ascension in training, true immortality, or even dominion over your own territories!”
“Do not fail me, Drapa... Whatever resources or manpower you require, speak it. I will have Miller arrange it immediately.”
The moment Hoto finished, General Miller—who had been eavesdropping through the cracked door—hurriedly stuck his face in to curry favor. “Yes, Master! I am ready to facilitate everything!”
Lord Ben, whose disdain for Americans seemed to run bone-deep, shot a frigid glare at Miller. “Cap gun sparks...”
Ben muttered flatly, his expression one of sheer contempt, as if to say Miller’s high-tech weaponry was nothing more than a worthless toy. He then returned to his composed state, eyes fixed once more on the floor, leaving Miller standing there, his face flushing with humiliation.
“I alone am sufficient, Master,” Drapa rasped, his voice laced with a cold, unwavering confidence. “With the supreme arts you have bestowed upon me, I believe I have already surpassed those pathetic Guardian Masters by leaps and bounds. I shall execute your command to the letter.” Drapa dropped to one knee, pledging his absolute loyalty to the mission of razing Mount Kailash.
“Excellent, my cherished disciple,” Hoto replied. He then cast a slightly irritated glance at Ben, who remained standing with his head bowed in stony silence. “You may look up now, Ben Benedict... You are to proceed to the coordinates Miller provides. A team is already awaiting you there to retrieve my property. It is a massive prize, so you will take my AO10—it possesses perfect cloaking, zero thermal signature, and sustains hypersonic speeds!”
“I, too, can handle this alone...” Ben countered flatly, his pride as a master warrior flaring.
“The object is gargantuan; it requires meticulous transport, and it is of utmost importance!” Hoto barked, cutting him off. “No arguments! If you succeed, you shall ascend to the stature of a god, and the whole of England and its surrounding territories shall be yours to rule. Simply follow my instructions. Your role is minimal—just try not to kill the pilot on the way... Once you reach the destination, secure the asset onto the AO10 and return.”
Hoto paused, a predatory grin spreading across his face as he read his disciple’s expression. “Ah... I see. You’re envious of the 'fun' Drapa is going to have, aren't you? Rest assured, you’ll have your share of excitement this time... I guarantee your white suit will be drenched in blood. Ha, ha, ha, ha!”
Hoto’s commanding laughter thundered through the secret office. Ben Benedict remained still for a heartbeat before slowly dropping to one knee beside Drapa. “As you command, Master…”
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Kailash: The Restored Eden
The massive elevator ascended smoothly, transporting the hosts and their guests up toward the simulated ecosystem. The moment the doors slid open, Cris’s family—still clad in their simple recovery robes—stood paralyzed in awe. Before them lay a literal heaven on earth. An army of hundreds of micro-robots was meticulously sweeping, scrubbing, and tending to the vegetation, which had transformed into a lush, vibrant emerald green, unrecognizable from its former state.
Cris, Victor, and Yuri placed their safety helmets onto a decorative rock pile, finally relaxing. Victor wasted no time, soaring into the simulated sky toward the artificial sun, which now emitted a warm, golden radiance.
“Everything is perfectly repaired, everyone!” Victor’s shout drifted down on the breeze. Seeing his excitement, Yuri took flight as well, gliding through the air to survey the breathtaking landscape with a wide grin.
“Can everyone... fly? What kind of technology is this?” Lars, Cris’s father, asked his son, his voice still heavy with bewilderment.
While the family stood in a daze, a service robot glided toward them with graceful humility before inquiring in crystal-clear English:
“Would anyone care for snacks or beverages?”
The greeting made the family jump in startle—they weren’t prepared for a robot to speak so fluently! Ren, still levitating slightly to keep himself at eye level with the group, quickly stepped in to ease their confusion.
“Don't be alarmed... Prom has now fully mastered every language on Earth. From this point forward, operating or commanding Prom will no longer be a struggle for any of you.”
“You’re so cute, Mr. Ren!” Liv, Cris’s youngest sister, chirped with innocent eyes. Since she was now technically taller than Ren, she looked at him like a flying little brother. The cheerful young girl kept seeking every opportunity to play with the stoic deity, leaving the usually composed Ren completely flustered and unsure of how to carry himself.
“Mom, Dad... everyone, please follow me this way,” Cris interrupted, quickly taking flight to lead his family toward the central commons of the simulated ecosystem.
“So you really can fly... it’s exactly like what I saw on the news,” Astrid whispered to the family, her mind reeling as she witnessed the miracle firsthand and at such close range.
But then... the tranquility was shattered by the deafening rattle of massive iron chains at the gate. The two giant albino oxen roared, their thunderous bellows demanding everyone's attention. Suddenly, a gargantuan figure emerged—a king cobra of colossal proportions, its obsidian scales shimmering with the sleek, predatory gloss of a hungry hunter. It lunged forward with terrifying speed, rearing its head and spreading its formidable hood right in front of the group!
“Halt! Where did all of you come from?” the giant serpent’s raspy, commanding voice echoed. “How about you pick just one person for me to devour to satisfy my hunger? Ha, ha, ha, ha!”
Cris’s family turned pale with terror—a talking snake the size of a building was enough to make anyone want to bolt. Only Ren and Tenzin remained motionless, faint smirks playing on their lips.
“I’m only joking...” the Great Serpent hissed, lowering its hood. “I can see you are all friendly; there isn't a trace of malice left in your auras.” The giant snake relaxed its posture and introduced itself in a casual tone. “My name is Vasu. And those two dim-witted giant oxen standing over there are Nonthi and O-ku.”
Though still shaken by the spectacle, Cris’s family gradually managed to regain their composure and steady their nerves.
“If there’s no further delay... could you kindly release me from these chains? I’d very much like to roam and graze at my leisure,” the deep, resonant voice of one of the giant oxen boomed from across the distance.
Tenzin didn't hesitate, immediately taking flight toward the two massive beasts. But before he could even bridge the gap, Ren—who was still standing with Cris’s family—simply flicked his hand with a nonchalant gesture. He unleashed a surge of mystical energy that struck the gargantuan shackles from afar. CLANG! The chains snapped open and fell away.
“Just like Lord Shiva... that level of power is unmistakable,” the two oxen exclaimed, exchanging glances of profound reverence.
When Tenzin reached them and saw that the necks and massive frames of the guardian oxen were finally free, he came to a halt. He turned back to look at the group in the distance, his eyes flickering with a heavy sense of contemplation, as if weighing the immense burden of the duties soon to follow.
As for the two giant albino oxen, their newfound freedom sent them into a state of pure euphoria. They collapsed onto the lush, emerald grass, rolling around with refreshed delight like newborn calves.
“It seems you won't have to endure the hardship of hibernation ever again, will you?” Tenzin murmured to the divine beasts. He then turned his gaze toward the Stone Statues standing majestically at the entrance hall. At this very moment, they were being cleansed by the Nanobot mist and the army of micro-robots. The stone surfaces began to reveal a polished luster, as if they were poised to spring back to life at any moment!
As the group moved along a path enveloped by lush greenery, Victor and Yuri gracefully descended to join them. Cris himself landed, leading the way barefoot across the soft, cool grass. Only Ren remained aloft, maintaining his height behind them like a silent guardian watching over his flock from a distance.
Suddenly, as they parted a thick cluster of bushes, Grandfather Erik seemed to forget his age entirely. He bolted past everyone with frantic excitement.
“Oh... it’s my house! It’s really my house!” the old man cried out, his hands trembling as he touched the wooden walls of an ancient Norwegian-style home that stood there, miraculously preserved. It was a breathtaking fusion of traditional Viking architecture and the refined precision of the simulated ecosystem. Lars and Astrid ran after him, their hearts pounding in their chests.
“This truly is our home...” both parents whispered in unison, as if a miracle had plucked a fragment of their homeland and placed it right here.
“Go ahead and step inside, everyone,” Cris said with a smile filled with pure happiness. Meanwhile, Victor and Yuri lingered outside, gazing at the structure in awe of the ancient Viking artistry of old Norway.
As the wooden door was pushed open, Grandfather Erik could no longer hold back his tears. Everything inside was arranged exactly as it lived in his memory—identical to the day Lars and Astrid had said their goodbyes to Norway. His eyes suddenly fell upon an old photograph of the grandmother. Erik lunged for it, clutching it tightly to his chest as he wept uncontrollably, his entire body shaking with longing.
“I miss you so much... my dear Freya...” he whispered brokenly to the image in his arms. Lars and Astrid rushed to embrace him, and an atmosphere of sorrow transformed into profound warmth, enveloping the small wooden house in the heart of Mount Kailash.
Even though the younger ones, Bjorn and Liv, were somewhat confused about whose house this was—having been born during the family’s years of wandering—their playful instincts took over. They began darting around, excitedly exploring every nook and cranny of the old home.
“Please, everyone, come inside and rest... Lord Ren, Master Tenzin, you are welcome as well,” Cris invited them with humble grace.
This wooden house was the true sanctuary of Grandfather Erik’s memories. It was the home he had built with his own hands alongside Grandmother Freya; it was where Lars and Astrid began their lives together, and where Cris’s life had first been conceived. It was a tragedy that Freya had passed away before ever laying eyes on her grandchildren. Erik, who had once surrendered to the desire to join his wife in the afterlife, now found a spark of life returning to his eyes, seeing his grandchildren safe and sheltered within these sturdy walls.
The house was filled with a mixture of laughter and tears of joy. Stories of the strange and harrowing events they had endured during their separation were shared until exhaustion finally took hold, and one by one, they succumbed to a deep sleep within the warmth they had long craved.
While silence fell over the house, the three divine guardians outside in the simulated garden were experiencing no less bliss.
“At last... I can sleep for real. No more agonizing hibernation, and with a full stomach to boot. This is truly the life,” Vasumurmured contentedly.
The sight of the gargantuan King Cobra and the twin albino oxen, Nonthi and O-ku, curled up together in a massive heap on the soft grass, became a symbol of the peace that had returned to Mount Kailash. They remained blissfully unaware that within the control towers of Area 51, Drapa and Ben were already setting Hoto’s dark designs into motion!
————————————————————————————— Ruth VT-Hin —————
