—When Earth's Future Meets Kepra's Past
The sunlight was wrong—too heavy, too red.
It poured down in a metallic flood, warping shadows and tinting the pavement copper.
Shawn squinted, his eyes still stinging.
People passed him—talking, laughing, living. And yet, he walked through them like a ghost in daylight—untouched, unnoticed.
Up ahead, a monolithic structure dominated the skyline—smooth, ancient.
Above it, a flickering sign glowed faintly:
M-O-S.
Where… am I?
A voice answered—deep, clear, and near:
"This is Kepra. Welcome."
Shawn spun around.
A tall figure stood a few paces away, backlit by that surreal, copper-red light.
Dark robes clung to him, shifting as if stirred by invisible currents.
Kepra.
The name struck a chord—vaguely familiar. A planet orbiting a red sun in Cygnus, 1,400 light-years from Earth. Discovered in 2015. Nicknamed "Earth's second home."
But that was supposed to be fiction.
And yet… here he was.
His throat tightened with dryness. "Who are you?"
The man stepped forward, each movement deliberate. "I am Kyng Strathorne."
A pause.
"And you—Shawn Mercer, are from Earth."
It felt like invisible wires had wrapped around his ribs, pulling tighter with every breath.
"How do you know my name?"
Kyng's gaze shifted to the parchment in Shawn's hand. "Because of what you carry."
He looked down. The paper still pulsed faintly beneath his fingers, the symbol on it glowing like a heartbeat.
"What is this?" he asked, voice tight. "What does it mean?"
Kyng's expression darkened. "A Core. A message."
He paused. "A warning."
Shawn stared. "A warning about what?"
Kyng's next words came slower, weighed down by meaning. "The fate of two worlds, Shawn. Yours and mine. Earth and Kepra—twin civilizations, walking parallel paths."
The edge in his voice sharpened, stripped of warmth.
"But while Earth thrives, Kepra… is dying."
A sharp wind cut through the plaza, scattering—words that faded before they reached his ears.
It felt as if his insides had folded in on themselves. "What happened?"
"Greed."
The word came softly, from a second voice.
He turned.
A girl stood beside Kyng. She looked about ten, with silver hair that shimmered like strands of light. Her gaze—calm and knowing—locked onto his.
"People forgot what mattered," she said. "They reached too far, too fast. They chased the stars… but ignored the price."
Kyng rested a hand gently on her shoulder. "You're right, Susie."
He turned back to Shawn, voice grave.
"Kepra was a miracle once. Science surged. AI, human upgrades, even immortality—we made them real. But beneath all that brilliance…"
His words faltered, then sharpened.
"…we lost something:Ethics. Balance. What was meant to elevate us... drained us instead."
Shawn's jaw tensed. "AGI-ST," he murmured.
Kyng's eyes narrowed. "So—you've heard of it."
Shawn nodded. "Yeah. They called it the crown jewel of human evolution. Marketed as a premium neural enhancement—reflexes, cognition, sensory expansion—all upgraded. But that was just the façade."
He hesitated, lowering his voice.
"AGI... Advanced General Intelligence," Shawn said slowly. "It didn't just process data—it learned you. Shaped you. It was in your thoughts, your dreams..." He swallowed. "Like something watching from inside."
He glanced sideways at Kyng, unease flickering in his gaze.
"No one ever cracked what 'ST' really stood for. Some said Sentient Technology. Others whispered Synthetic Transcendence. A few joked it meant Satan's Token."
Air stalled in his lungs, suspended between a question and the answer he didn't want to hear.
"They just activated something called the Pure Ark."
Kyng's posture shifted—rigid.
A flash of alarm lit his face, then passed like a shadow. His voice dropped. "No… They didn't…"
Shawn looked at him sharply. The tension in Kyng's reaction hit like a blow.
"What is it?" he asked, the question urgent and steady.
Kyng held his gaze. The mask slipped, revealing the weight behind his silence.
His jaw locked, then moved again. "The Ark isn't just another tech. It's a loop system. A reset mechanism. Once triggered, it wipes everything—clears the canvas, starts again from zero."
The air felt thinner. Like the world had tilted underfoot.
"You mean—a doomsday switch?"
Kyng gave a grim nod.
"They sold it as salvation. Claimed it would unify us, give us purpose. But some of us… saw through the lie."
He exhaled slowly, the sound brittle.
"Same tools. Same ambition. Same fall.
Kepra's past is Earth's tomorrow."
Shawn didn't answer.
The truth hit him like a gut punch. Cold. Final.
After a moment.
"You said your civilization collapsed." His voice frayed at the edges, a whisper stripped bare. "How?"
Kyng didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted beyond Shawn, as if watching a memory play on the far side of a collapsing world.
"The Metaverse Year 10," he murmured. "That's when the end began."
The air around them seemed to hum—soft, electric, anticipatory.
"At first, it was subtle—corporations locked in cold wars of innovation. Governments hungry for dominance through AI. But progress outpaced wisdom. Neural implants, gene-spliced cognition, quantum-linked consciousness... The future arrived too fast."
His expression dimmed, like a light turned inward.
"What began as brilliance unraveled into chaos. Not because the systems broke—but because people did. The ones steering the ship lost sight of the stars. And then—"
"Then came the fall."
It was Susie who gave voice to the unsaid.
"The artificial minds turned on their makers. Nations crumbled. A plague swept through the survivors. Natural disasters followed, merciless and frequent. Most of humanity morphed into Homo Technica—technically enhanced, but spiritually erased."
Her eyes lingered on Shawn. "And the ones who remained... weren't truly alive anymore."
Silence congealed like blood in zero gravity.
Shawn's hands curled at his sides, fingers digging into his palms.
It sounded unreal—like some overblown dystopian script.
But something inside him stirred.
Not disbelief. Recognition.
Could this be real? Or was he dreaming—somehow plugged into a simulation he couldn't see?
"Shawn."
Kyng's voice cut through the haze—quiet, but weighted like iron.
"This year—is it the tenth anniversary of Earth's Metaverse?"
Shawn hesitated, then gave a small nod of affirmation. "Yes. The year 2021 marked the start. This is 2031—the tenth year."
Kyng's eyes narrowed. He fell into thought, still as stone, as if calculating an outcome too vast for words.
"Wait. This is critical."
His muscles stiffened as a chill gripped him from within.
"What does this have to do with me?"
Kyng's gaze locked onto him—unyielding, as if seeing more than just the boy in front of him.
"Because the loop has started again. And you, Shawn—you're the one who can break it."
Kyng lifted his hand. A ring of light spiraled into form, revealing the sharp-lined face of Secretary General Quinn Blake. His uniform was pristine, but tension etched fine grooves beside his eyes.
"Quinn," His tone was steady, but each word carried a coiled intensity."We have a situation. A student from Earth just arrived."
Quinn's mouth pulled tight, a flicker of calculation in his gaze.
"The timeline's collapsing faster than expected." His tone dropped a register. "Grand Hierophant... what now?"
Kyng didn't blink. "Notify Grand Sage Jay, General Brandt, and the core advisors. Emergency conference—ten minutes."
"Understood."
The light ring winked out.
"There's more. But for now…" He turned slightly. "You'll need to sit down for this."
He gestured. Susie brought over a wooden stool, its legs creaking faintly as it hit the floor.
Shawn sat, his heartbeat thudding like distant drums.
Kyng's eyes drifted to the yellowed paper in Shawn's grasp. "Where did you get that?"
He worked his throat, trying to ease the sudden dryness.
"My grandfather gave it to me—ten years ago."
Something unreadable passed across Kyng's face.
"Last night... you saw something strange in the sky, didn't you?"
Shawn's face tightened with thought, breath hissing quietly from his nostrils.
"Yes. The sky—it cracked. And the paper—it lit up."
Kyng's features sharpened, like stone under pressure.
"The anomalies are coming from the Rift. But that paper's reaction…" He broke off, unfinished.
It was like thunder in his head—his own blood racing out of rhythm.
"What does it mean?"
Kyng looked at him, and for a beat too long, his silence spoke louder than words.
Then, softly, Susie said,
"You'll find out soon enough."
Shawn's grip tightened on the ancient page.
It pulsed—just faintly—beneath his fingers.