Chapter 4 : A Forbidden Truth
The Gamer’s Gambit server hummed softly in Roi’s basement, its constant, reassuring noise masking the frantic impatience of the four conspirators. Days stretched into a week, then a second. The “Poet’s Reply” sat on Alex’s blog, an unanswered challenge glowing on the dark web of the Ghost’s attention.
They only had two tentative ip matches: one from Btamaan and one from Igudir.
“We’re hemorrhaging time,” Alex finally declared, pacing the small space. “The Ghost seems to be on the move and does not seem wants to communicate.”
Damien: “And no point in us making a move… We can’t catch a moving ghost.”
Dr. Petrova, who had been studying a holographic map of Eastern Anatolia, cleared her throat. “I can try something... I’ve got some distant family contacts from Armenia and Anatolia. I could reach some of my cousins, and they might have contacts on the ground…”
Roi: “Any information… Right now we are stuck here...”
The team agreed, and met the next evening…
Petrova: ok, guys I’ve got two contacts...
Petrova made the first call...
She dialed one of the numbers her cousin Mariam had given her. The line clicked, and a warm, slightly aged voice answered.
Professor Sarkisian: “Hello, This is Arman Sarkisian.”
Petrova: “Professor Sarkisian, good evening. My name is Lena Petrova. My cousin, Mariam Petrosyan, passed me your contact. I hope I’m not intruding.”
Professor Sarkisian: a chuckle “Yes Lena, indeed... Mariam gave me a call last night. She told me you would likely call. So you are also in archaeology, I understand?”
Petrova: “Indeed, in Archaeo-Chronoly to be exact. I am currently attached to the Department of Archeology here in NeoLand.”
Professor Sarkisian: “Good to hear. So, tell me, Lena, what brings you to call an old man like me?”
Petrova: her tone softens, casual but deliberate “Professor I’m currently working with a colleague of mine on Uruk era tablets. And we got to know that there are whispers, that some interesting artifacts have been discovered, around your region. I wondered if you might know more.”
Professor Sarkisian: a pause, then a sigh “I’m retired now, Lena. My days of fieldwork are behind me. But yes… there are rumors. Some treasure unearthed. I cannot confirm details, only that something has stirred curiosity. Enough to make people talk.”
Petrova: “Treasure?”
Professor Sarkisian: “That’s the word. But treasure can mean many things. Gold, stone, or simply mystery. I only know what passes through the grapevine.”
The line quieted, the professor’s voice tinged with caution.
Petrova: noticing the clear change in the tone... “ I see, I see… Professor if I would need any further information, would you mind if I contact you again...”
Professor Sarkisian: in a relaxed and casual tone “nooo problem… if you want to know more about the local grapevines, I’m here all day…”
Petrova: “One more thing professor, would there be anyone you might know, whom we can contact regarding this matter”.
Professor Sarkisian: “Let me do this Lena, I will contact a few of my colleagues and ask whether they can assist you. Would that be ok?”
Petrova: “That would be a great help indeed. Do feel free to contact me any time.”
Professor Sarkisian: “Sure thing... I will call you back then…”
Petrova: “Thank you very much professor. Have a great day then… and take care...”
Professor Sarkisian: “You’re welcome and take care...”
Next Petrova dialed the second number. The line rang for a while... a gravelly voice cut through the static.
Detective Yilmaz: “Kemal Yilmaz speaking.”
Petrova: “Mr. Yilmaz, good evening. My name is Lena Petrova. My cousin, Mariam Petrosyan, suggested I reach out. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
Detective Yilmaz: short, clipped “Mariam from Neoland... Yes, I know her. And the reason for GlassDome, for calling Terra-Firma?”
Petrova: “Mr. Yilmaz, I’m an archaeologist and we’ve heard rumors of some interesting discoveries near Dibiyakr. Artifacts, perhaps from the Uruk-era…? I thought you might know if there’s truth to it.”
Detective Yilmaz: a pause, then bluntly “Artifacts, you say…?”
“Yes, three brothers had uncovered something. And then, all three of them go missing. Two of the brothers’ bodies were found in the foothills. There were signs of violence. We’re still looking for the third...”
Petrova leaning forward, in a voice of disbelief “Oh my goodness…!”
Alex’s hand tightened around his tablet. Roi’s and Damien’s eyes widened. Even the usual calm of Dr. Petrova sharpened.
Dead silence…
Petrova: garnering back her composure “Have the brothers been identified?”
Detective Yilmaz: ...silence…
“People who go looking for the past sometimes don’t come back the same. Be careful ! The past can be… persistent.”
Then a sharp click and the line goes dead.
Petrova stared at the comms device. No farewell, no explanation. Just silence...
As she hung up, the team exchanged glances. The stakes had just grown heavier. The ghost’s cryptic pulses were no longer merely a curiosity — were they a trail of a hunted?
Roi whispered, almost to himself: “This changes everything… This is not a game any more...”
Outside, the night was still. Inside the study, the glow of the laptop screens seemed suddenly sharper, the shadows longer. They were being drawn deeper into a mystery — that might not have a turning back?
Damien was the first to chip in: “So now what? Do we abort…?”
Alex’s gaze swept over the obsidian tablets. The Ghost’s game was deadly, and the stakes were now tragically high. The three brothers had likely stumbled onto the tablets, prompting the fatal intervention. They had found a treasure but had not survived the cost.
“The Ghost sent me those five tablets for a reason,” Alex said, his voice hard with resolve. “He’s testing me, yes, but he’s also looking for someone to finish the job, someone who understands the code.”
Alex: “The third brother is most likely our ghost. He has the code, or he knows where the final pieces are. I'm not giving up now…”
Alex: “Lena can you get some more contacts from round Dibiyakr? I think we covered quite some ground today...”
Petrova after giving a moments thought. “I don’t want to contact Marian again. Let me try another one…”
Through her cousin’s network, she obtained another number — a pub owner in Dibiyakr. She dialed... Her voice warm and familiar.
Pub Owner/Bartender (Hasan Demirci): “Demirci’s Tavern. Who’s calling?”
Petrova: “Hasan, good evening. My name is Anna Petrova. I’m cousin to Deniz Sarkisyan. I wanted to get some information and he gave me your number...”
Hasan Demirci: a laugh, hearty and genuine “Deniz! That rascal. Can never keep his mouth shut for a minute. How is he?”
Petrova: “Still the same, he is our family jester, you know…”
Hasan Demirci: a laugh… “Right, right... The world needs more jesters… So Petrova, what brings you calling me?”
Petrova: “Hasan, I’m an Archaeologist and I’ve heard that they found some treasure near Dibiyakr. Some even mention three brothers. Do you know anything about it?”
Hasan Demirci: his tone shifts, quieter now “Ah. You’ve heard, then. People talk. They say they found something, some strange stones. Heavy, black. Not gold, not jewels...”
Petrova:“And the brothers?”
Hasan Demirci: hesitation, then a sigh “One of them even came here. Serhat. He was shaken, pale as a ghost. He muttered about finding something, said he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest. He left late that night. A few days later, the bodies of his two brothers were found in the mountains. That was the last time I saw him… never returned. His body was never recovered.”
Petrova: voice steady, though her heart raced “Serhat... That was his name?”
Hasan Demirci: “Yes. Serhat Akgün. A good boy... But whatever they found… it took them in-turn.”
Alex: “Serhat Akgün. The missing brother. The ghost may not be a phantom at all. It may be Serhat — or someone tied to him.”
Damian: “Two dead, one vanished. If Serhat lives, he may hold the rest of the codex.”
Roi: leaning forward, determination in his eyes “Then the ghost has a name. And now, we have a trail.”
Alex: “lets do this… Lets hire a private detective from outside of Dibiyakr and lets dig in…”
Within the hour, the guys narrow down on a private detective from Istanbul, whom agrees to do a low profile investigation…
Three days later… Private eyes, Murat Kaya’s Report.
The encrypted message arrived late at night, routed through Petrova’s cousin to avoid detection. Murat Kaya’s words were clipped, professional, but carried an undercurrent of unease.
Murat Kaya’s Report — Confidential —
Istanbul Private Detectives.
Serhat Akgün :
Gender : Male
Age : 37
Occupation : Electronics Technician (refer Note 1 below)
Family:
Parents : Mehmet and Leyla Akgün (refer Note 2 below)
Brothers : Tigran and Hayk Akgün (confirmed deceased)
Note 1: Serhat Akgün, ran an electronics repair workshop in Dibiyakr. Skilled Electronics Technician, Quiet demeanor, Loner, Tinkering with circuits: life passion.
I located Serhat Akgün’s workshop in Dibiyakr. The place is abandoned, shuttered for months. Dust covers the counters, yet the tools are arranged with precision — soldering irons, circuit boards, fragments of custom devices. Someone worked here with care, and someone has left in a haste.
He has run the workshop on his own (No employees/ apprentices/ associates).
Note 2: Both parents (of the brothers) have left the region after the deaths. Some say they went north, others say they crossed into Armenia. No one knows for sure. But here, in Dibiyakr, there is no direct family left.
Trail From Btamaan to Igudr
I followed Serhat’s trail from Btamaan to Igudr. In Btamaan his whereabouts / trail could not be located. In Igudr did locate the motel he stayed a night. The clerk remembered him clearly — late night, pale, carrying a small case. He paid in cash, no questions asked.
Unsettling Detail 1: The motel clerk said Serhat looked exhausted, paranoid. He kept glancing at the door, as if expecting someone. He stayed only a few hours.
Unsettling Detail 2: Early next morning three men in black leather jackets arrived, asking questions. Not police. Not locals. They asked for Serhat, pressed hard, then demanded to see his room.
When the clerk checked the room, it was empty. Bed unslept, window ajar, no belongings. It was as if Serhat had dissolved into the night. The room was empty. No case, no clothes, no trace. Serhat was gone.
The men searched, pressed the clerk, then left without a word. Whoever they were, they were after (hunting?) him.
My conclusion: Serhat is alive, or was alive when he reached Igudr. He is most definitely being pursued. He vanished from the motel before dawn, leaving no trail. Either he escaped, or he was taken by someone who knew how to erase footprints.
End of Report.
Alex: his eyes widened, leaning forward “Electronics repair… That explains everything. The signals, the encryption, the devices. Think about it — the drone delivery itself, the encrypted pulses orbiting our network. That’s someone who knows hardware inside out. If anyone could have carried out that stunt, it would be him or someone like him.”
And as they say: fate intervenes in the most untimely (or would it be timely) manner…
The server in the basement shrieked—a high-pitched rapid triple beep digital alert that overrode the Gamer’s Gambit hum…
The Ghost had finally responded, triggered perhaps by their bold inquiries, or waiting for them to show their competence.
Damian’s isolated AI core instantly unwrapped the message. It was a poem and a stark, cold command:
> THE CODEX SLEEPS NEAR TIGERS’ EYE.
>
> TOMB OF KINGS. 15:00 LOCAL TIME. 72 HOURS TO RENDEZVOUS TIME.
>
> RENDEZVOUS POINT: IN THE META TAGS YOU WILL FIND.
>
> TRAVEL ALONE, NO TRACKERS AND CELLPHONES HIDE.
>
> WEAR BLACK TROUSERS, BROWN COAT AND A BAG IN WHITE.
>
> THIS KEY WILL SELF DELETE WITHIN SECONDS 365.
At the count of 365, the message vanished, erasing itself from the server logs, leaving not even a faint trace... not even an encrypted data residue, giving them just enough time to access its meta data…
Alex knew what he had to do... They weren’t just pursuing a lost code nor a ghost anymore; they were pursuing Serhat. Serhat Akgün, whom most likely is terrified and possibly holding the key to a truth some would even kill for.
“I leave at dawn,” Alex stated, looking at his team. “Roi, you’ll prep a dermal comm—the smallest you have. Nothing more. Damian, Petrova, you run inference here. If I’m not back in seven days, you open the entire file to the AI Guardians.”
The team nodded, their faces grimly set. The game was over. The journey was set to begin.
And like that, the journey begins…
Alex was in a DyoLand automated transit pod, approaching the international terminal, when the tiny, nearly invisible dermal comm on his arm vibrated urgently—a distress signal from Roi.
"Alex, stop!" Roi's voice was a ragged whisper in his ear. "They hit your study. Three men. Leather jackets. They bypassed the Oracle's internal security completely."
A cold, sick feeling seized Alex.
"The tablets?" Roi's voice was starting to rattle...
"They’ll never find that," Alex confirmed, confidence mixed with terror...
Roi: "And they were unaware of the standalone pinhole I installed. We have facial bio-metrics on the trio."
The transit pod stopped. Alex ignored the automated prompt to exit.
The team acted with frantic speed. They immediately contacted the Central Bureau of Investigation (CBI), filing a report of a high-tech breach and requesting an urgent, covert operation to trace the identities of the perpetrators based on the pinhole camera data.
The DyoLand CCTV AI network (AI Guardians) was unleashed on the unauthorized intruders.
Minutes later, Roi's voice returned, laced with dread. "CBI has them. They’re tracking their movements. They didn’t just hit your study, Alex. They hit your home as well as Petrova’s home and workplace as well !"
The hunters' efficiency was terrifying. They were professionals, and their target list confirmed their suspicion was triggered by Petrova's regional phone calls, originating from Alex’s study...
Roi paused, the next piece of information hitting like a blow. "They've bypassed local transit and are heading straight for the airport."
The transit pod doors hissed open, ready to deposit Alex just moments away from his flight to the Eurasian continent. The hunters were either on their way to intercept him, or more likely, they were planning to take the same flight to track his movements.
The Final Assessment
Alex retreated to a quiet, isolated security lounge near the terminal. Roi, Damian, and Petrova convened a holographic meeting in his temporary safe zone.
"They don't have concrete proof that Alex is in possession of the tablets," Damian insisted, pointing to the security logs. "If they knew for sure, things would have turned much differently. Their search was just a fishing expedition, probably triggered by Petrova’s calls."
"I also agree..." Petrova added, her face pale but resolute. "They know we are chasing something, but they are not sure what..."
If Alex aborted, that would only further stir the hunters’ suspicion, expose the entire operation, and compromise the tablets. If he continued, he would be flying with three professional killers, leading them directly to a desperate man holding the missing code.
"I have to go," Alex said, his voice quiet but final. "If I turn back, they win. If I lead them to Serhat, they win. I have the destination, and they have me."
He pulled up the flight manifest. "The hunters are booked on the next flight out, a connection that takes them through Istanbul to the same final destination as of Alex.”
Alex looked at the CBI report. "Roi, keep the CBI active on the three jackets. They are the official cover. I need you to know their flight number, their seat numbers, everything. And then, you need to go completely dark on this mission."
He detached his DyoLand-issued comms panel and placed it on the counter, leaving behind the digital leash of his transparent life. He picked up his travel bag, containing nothing but ancient maps, a few changes of clothes, and the undetectable dermal comm.
His eyes were fixed on the departure board. His mission had just changed from an academic pursuit to a deadly game of espionage. He was no longer just chasing the Ghost; he was flying straight into a storm, knowing death could be only a few rows behind him.
♟️ The Games of Croissants
The Proxy The Lure and The Escape
Alex’s first move was to become invisible. He took the flight, enduring the agonizing knowledge that three hunters—were just rows behind him. Upon landing at the regional hub, instead of heading toward the rendezvous coordinates, he played the academic.
He spent the next five hours at a local university library, painstakingly poring over archaic maps and dusty monographs referencing the Uruk period and the Tigris region. He asked deliberately visible questions to the archivist—all standard, non-alarming research inquiries. He was bait, and the Trio, watching from a distance, absorbed the image of an eccentric professor.
Once the Trio were convinced of his boring authenticity and had presumably moved on to check a secondary line of inquiry, Alex executed his breakaway. He shed his DyoLand travel clothes, used a chain of local buses and regional taxi transfers, and settled into a secure, silent safe house near the city of Malatiya. The team had agreed that Alex should move North and not East, and at all costs stay away from Dibiyakr... His dermal comm was silent; he dared not risk a whisper.
🥐 The Proxy’s Gambit
The danger of a direct meeting was absolute. If Alex went direct to the ghost, he would lead the hunters direct to their prey. The team agreed on the tactical solution: Petrova’s network of cousins...
A cousin, a discreet local known for his unflappable demeanor, agreed to the adventure. Petrova relayed the Ghost's precise, cinematic demands: black pants, brown coat, and a white bag—and the time, 03:00 local, at the updated coordinates.
The designated meeting spot wasn't the desolate mountain slope initially anticipated; the Ghost, showing characteristic cleverness, at the last moments had relocated the meeting to a local café in the outskirts of Silvian, a place with anonymous foot traffic and cover.
The cousin, dressed exactly to specification, sat alone at an outdoor table at 02:45.
The team—Alex at the outskirts of Malatiya, Roi and Damian in NeoLand, monitoring satellite feeds—were all in a tense, silent comm link.
The silence was deafening. Roi and Damian scanned for known vehicles or suspicious signals; Alex watched the periphery of his safe house, heart hammering.
03:00 local time. The deadline arrived.
The Ghost was a no show...
Instead, a young waiter, moving with practiced indifference, approached the cousin's table. He placed a small plate down: a steaming coffee and a freshly baked croissant, and a simple greeting Բարի ախորժակ (Bari akhorzhak).
The cousin, nodded with a gentle smile and proceeded to take a bite. Inside, nestled in the flaky pastry, was a thumb drive.
The cousin secured the drive and retreated immediately, following the extraction route Alex had pre-planned. Within the hour, Alex had the thumb drive in his safe house.
The drive’s security was extreme—encrypted with the familiar, complex fractal signature of the Codex. Alex didn't dare connect it to anything but a clean, disposable interface.
Damian's AI core, running isolated on Alex's travel tablet, painstakingly decrypted the data burst. It wasn't the five missing tablets. It was a single, compressed file: a digital note from the Ghost.
The text was short, direct, and likely written under duress:
YOU ARE THE KEY. THEY ARE CLOSER THAN YOU THINK. THE MISSING CODEX ARE IN THE ARCHIVE. IT IS PROTECTED BY A FATHER'S DEBT.
GO TO KARS. FIND THE ARCHIVE MASTER. HE KNOWS OF THE DEBT.
The message was geo-tagged to a specific, dusty-looking antique shop in Kars, a historical city further north and east—an even more remote and less-trafficked location than Igudr. The Ghost was still running, but he was leaving a highly personal, dangerous trail.
Alex closed the connection with his team. The note about "A FATHER'S DEBT" was a direct, devastating challenge. It meant the Ghost knew Alex's lineage, his father’s connection to the original Uruk research, and the unfinished legacy that drew him here. The Ghost had successfully tested Alex's commitment and now revealed a critical element of the Codex's security.
The meeting had failed, but the mission had advanced. Alex had a new lead, a new location, and a terrifying confirmation: the Trio was still right behind him. He needed to get to Kars before the hunters could connect the dots between Igudr and the Antique Shop.
The Danger of Kars: The Trio's surveillance and resource tracking are infinitely better now that Alex knows they are DyoLand operatives. They have access to everything.
Alex, huddled in his Malatiya safe house, waited for the final data burst. When Roi pushed the file through, the resulting CBI report was not a relief; it was chilling to the bone...
The three hunters were not mere mercenaries. They belonged to an organization Alex knew only from deep historical texts: The Obsidian Audit.
This group was not just criminal; they were the insidious advocates of the destructive ideology and power structure that defined the old world. The Codex, which dated to the pre-Uruk period, predated their full rise, but its complete decryption would expose the crucial lie upon which their power was built.
One of the Obsidian Audit's primary vested interest was to prevent the Codex from ever seeing the light of day. They were here to ensure the truth remained buried. For the truth, if exposed would destroy/ diminish their grip to power.
New Target: Kars
The urgency of the Ghost’s note—"THE BLACK CODES ARE IN THE ARCHIVE. IT IS PROTECTED BY A FATHER'S DEBT"—became terrifyingly clear.
Serhat wasn't just hiding; he was trying to deliver the truth to the one man capable of revealing it: Alex. The location was an Antique Shop in Kars.
Alex understood the logic: Serhat knew the Obsidian Hand would be on his tail, so he used himself as a decoy to divert attention while planting the Codex's final half at a secure handover point linked to Alex's legacy, his father...
Alex made the grueling journey to Kars. The city was a maze of ancient stone and bitter cold, a place far removed from the sterile transparency of DyoLand.
The Archive Master and the A Father's Debt
The Antique Shop was run by an old man, Miran the Archive Master. The shop was a dusty labyrinth of artifacts and forgotten history.
Alex cautiously approached Miran, asking veiled questions that failed to move the old man. Finally, Alex whispered the phrase from the Ghost’s note: "My Father’s Debt. Is it here?"
Miran’s eyes widened, then narrowed with recognition and a profound weariness. He didn’t look straight at Alex, but casually remarked. "Your father... Can I see your ID, if you don’t mind…"
Alex picked his passport from his belt pocket, and opened to the bio-metric page. Miran only wanted to check the Surname/ Family Name: Bernard.
One more question Alex: Could you tell me, where exactly you went for junior high?
Alex: That would be in Salzburg. May I ask why?
Miran: I just wanted to double check you’re Bernard’s son…
Alex: So then, you knew my father...?
What else he told, 'bout me?
Miran: "Not much... I did remember he telling, you threw quite a tantrum when he told, you’d be relocating…
I just wanted to confirm, that’s all…"
Alex: And what is Serhat’s connection in all this?
Miran: That son, you will have to ask him.... It is Serhat whom brought me the tablets. So I assume, your father must have known him or his father… I am just the Archivist...
The Black Codex
Guided by Miran, Alex was led behind a tapestry and through a false bookcase. The Archive was a small vault, shockingly modern in the old shop...
Inside, Alex found a lead-lined box identical to his own. He opened it. There they were: the missing five obsidian tablets. The Black Codex...
As Alex secured the final tablets, the air in the shop shifted. Miran looked down at a small, hidden console. His voice was a rasp of sudden terror.
"Oh my dear !" Miran choked out, his face turning ash-white. "They seem to have tracked you…"
A heavy, military-grade vehicle screeched to a halt outside the antique shop, rattling the old glass in the frames. The light was instantly blocked by their shadows.
The Obsidian Audit had arrived.
Alex was trapped in a tiny, historic shop in the middle of an isolated city, probably holding one of the world's most dangerous secrets.
If you only have 5 seconds to think…
The moment the heavy vehicle screeched to a halt outside Miran's antique shop, Alex's mind went into overdrive. By now he knew enough of the Obsidian Audit: with absolute certainty, swift elimination. He stripped the lead boxes and shoved the five obsidian tablets deep into the ash, of the shop’s kiln.
He spun away and seized Miran, initiating the desperate ruse: "Miran! I’m not going to pay three hundred for three clay pots!"
Miran realizing the ploy: “What do you think, these are!? Antiques made yesterday !?”
The front door burst inward, and the three Obsidian Audit operatives entered. They paused, momentarily confused by the shouting match over some clay pottery.
Alex sputtered, feigning indignation: “But just look at their condition! Two-fifty ! My final offer, take it or leave it ! ”
Miran, regaining his composure, expertly stepped in. “Gentlemen, I will be with you in a minute. Please, look around. We have some truly fascinating items...”
A Boisterous Intervention
The front bell chimed again.
Five more tourists entered the shop. They were boisterous and loud, speaking in laughing bursts of DyoLand standard, completely upsetting the solemn, frozen tension of the room. Their energy and noise instantly offset the center of gravity of the theater...
These were CBI operatives, and their presence was anything but covert.
Their primary goal, was clear: to avoid any seeds of a possible violent confrontation… By acting as loud, live-streaming, oblivious tourists, they made any subtle, violent action by the Obsidian Audit very much less likely.
The Obsidian Audit so lost the upper hand... They could not risk a violent confrontation in the presence of these tourists. Attracting negative international publicity, and initiating a global manhunt would definitely not be in their best interests...
As Alex was packing the just acquired pottery, he could sense a towering figure taking a good peek into the insides of his backpack from over his shoulders.
And with a final, murderous glare at Miran (who in-turn continued to frown at Alex for cheating him of his pottery), the lead operative gave a barely perceptible signal. The three men turned and walked casually out of the shop, their mission aborted by the sheer, unmanageable noise and risk of the live-streamers.
The Handover and the Truth
Miran, visibly shaking, did his best to maintain composure, and slowly walked to address the tourists… Alex immediately rushed to the kiln, retrieved the five obsidian tablets. First things first… He needed to get digital copies… (It would be too risky taking these tablets into any international flight...)
Next, pipe the digital copies through Alex’s tablet running Damien’s AI core…
And Finally Back to NeoLand...
But first Alex needed to hide the five tablets at a safe location. A location no more would ever guess...
The First Decryption...
All ten codices united, now it was upto the Gamer’s Gambit…
Decode, S'il vous plaît...
It didn’t take long...
The Codex Obsidian:
The First Lie: The Great Separation was not a spontaneous collapse, but a strategic purge executed by the post diluvian stratum—the Obsidian Audit.
Their sole objective was to prevent humanity from ever reuniting under a shared, unified truth. The destruction of the Old World was the genesis of a new, deliberate strategy: Perpetual Partition.
By dividing the unified nations into warring, fractured states—forcing them to spend most of their time and resources fighting each other via destructive interference—the Obsidian Audit guarantees that the pre-Uruk truth could be kept permanently buried, ensuring their foundational ideology, rooted in chaos and vested interests, would remain unchallenged.
The resulting loss of billions of lives was not a sinister cost; it was the intended, systemic byproduct of maintaining global dominance via instigating violence and ignorance.
The Obsidian Audit's ideology is more destructive than any weapon: it is the philosophy of eternal conflict as a shield for evil and corruption.
The Pre-Uruk truth itself is the culmination of the knowledge from the Fall of the Rose Apple—the era when all citizens were taught to think logically from their youngest days. This universal cognitive maturity ensured that fallacies and evils perpetrated under the cloak of 'culture' or 'progress' had no ground to stand upon.
The Obsidian Audit established the new norm: A societal design where average cognitive maturity intentionally (get stunted) around the ages of 13–14. This ensures the perpetuation of the very fallacies and evils the Obsidian rely upon.
The Rose Apple's cognitive maturity is what they truly fear, for it is the only tool that can dismantle their strategic foundations of the world of chaos.
Alex, Damien, Roi and Dr. Petrova stared at the screen.
The words were strangely familiar to them... These same words would constantly echo at the halls of the governing assemblies of DyoLand Dyostrum.
But when a 5000 year codex, mentions of such… It further validates, add further weight...
And through his research into ancient manuscripts/ texts Alex, was well aware what —Rose Apple— translates into, as to what it represents in ancient texts. All this time, due to lack of archaeological evidence, —Rose Apple— was considered a mythological construct/ entity, by the mainstream…
And yet, here we are...
To be continued...
This is a work of fiction. All events / names / locations are fictional and any resemblance to actual events/ names / locations are purely coincidental and fictional.
© 2025 Ly DeSandaru
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