Planet Lord: The Rise of Civilization

The journey back to the main encampment was long, tense, and silent. The glow of the World Codex illuminated the narrow forest paths, casting strange shadows on the ground. Each step felt heavier than the last. Exhaustion clung to every soldier, yet none dared to show it. Their mission was too important.

Rael marched at the front, his eyes locked forward, his mind in turmoil. The rhythmic thrum of the Codex echoed in his head like a distant war drum. It wasn't just his imagination — he knew it was real.

Thump-thump... Thump-thump...

Every beat was a reminder that something ancient, something far beyond them, was now part of their world.

"Still scanning us?" Rael asked, his voice low but firm.

"Yeah," Lyssa muttered, her eyes glued to her datapad. "If anything, it's more active now than before. Whatever it learned down there, it's processing it fast."

"Is it a threat?" Kael asked, his eyes flicking from the shadows to the Codex. His grip on his weapon was tight, knuckles pale.

"Not sure," Lyssa admitted. "It's not transmitting, if that's what you're worried about. No signals going out, at least not through conventional means."

Kael snorted, shaking his head. "Conventional. Since when did 'ancient relic from a forgotten age' count as conventional?"

"Fair point," Lyssa muttered.

—

Later That Night

The campfire crackled softly, the warmth pushing back the cold bite of night. The soldiers sat in small groups, eating rations and tending to their gear. Conversations were hushed, and glances toward the Codex were frequent. Its glow was soft but undeniable, like the steady beat of a heart in the dark.

Rael sat apart from the others, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate movements. The steel sang a faint, grating note with each stroke, the only sound aside from the crackle of firewood. His eyes flickered from his blade to the Codex, his thoughts distant but sharp.

Kael walked over, his steps crunching against the dirt. He sat across from Rael, resting his arms on his knees. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

"You know they're afraid of it, right?" Kael's voice was casual, but his eyes were serious. "Not just the scouts. The veterans, too. People don't like things they can't control."

"Fear keeps them sharp," Rael replied without looking up. His blade continued its slow, steady grind. "Keeps them alive."

"Until it doesn't," Kael shot back. "Fear can break you if you let it fester too long."

Rael stopped sharpening his blade. His eyes met Kael's, cold and unyielding. "You think I'm afraid of it?"

Kael held his gaze for a moment, then shook his head with a smirk. "No. You're afraid of what it'll make you do."

Rael's eyes narrowed, but he didn't deny it.

—

It was sometime past midnight when it happened.

Lyssa was stationed at the monitoring tent, her datapad connected to the Codex. Her fingers tapped away as she ran one last systems check before her shift ended. Her eyes were half-lidded, exhaustion taking its toll, but she forced herself to stay alert.

Then, the datapad flickered.

"Ah, come on," she muttered, tapping the screen. "Don't start glitching now."

The flicker stopped. Her eyes darted to the Codex. Its glow had shifted, faint traces of blue rippling across its surface like water disturbed by a stone. Lyssa sat up straight, her exhaustion vanishing in an instant.

"Rael," she called over the comms. Her voice was calm, but there was urgency beneath it. "We've got activity. The Codex is… shifting."

Static answered her for a moment before Rael's voice came through. "What do you mean 'shifting'?"

"Patterns," she said quickly, her fingers dancing across the controls. "New symbols appearing across its surface. It's like—" She froze. Her heart leapt into her throat as a new sound filled the air.

A voice.

Not from her comms. Not from the datapad. From the Codex itself.

It was faint, distant, like hearing someone speak underwater. The words were indecipherable, but the tone was unmistakable — calm, deliberate, and steady. Her eyes widened as the voice grew louder, the echoes bouncing around the tent. Her mind struggled to process it.

"Rael," she hissed into the comms, her eyes locked on the Codex. "It's talking."

—

Rael and Kael burst into the tent, their eyes sharp with alertness. Lyssa was already on her feet, pointing at the Codex, her face pale as a ghost.

"Tell me you're hearing that," she said, her eyes darting between them.

They didn't need to ask what she meant. The voice was unmistakable now, clear and resonant. It spoke in a language none of them understood, its syllables sharp but rhythmic. It wasn't human. It didn't even sound human.

"Lyssa," Rael said, his voice like steel. "What's it saying?"

"I— I don't know," she stammered, her fingers tapping furiously on her datapad. "It's not any language in our database. No matches. But it's repeating the same sequence every thirty seconds."

Kael stepped forward, his eyes locked on the Codex. "What are you trying to tell us, you cursed thing?" he muttered, his hand on his weapon.

The Codex's glow intensified, and for a moment, everyone took a step back. The light wasn't just bright — it was alive. Shadows danced wildly around the tent as the glow shifted to a deep, vibrant red.

Then, it spoke again.

This time, the words were clear.

"We see you."

Silence. Total, deafening silence. The glow faded, returning to its steady blue pulse, but none of them moved. No one breathed. No one spoke.

Rael's heart pounded in his chest. His eyes met Kael's, then Lyssa's. None of them had to say it out loud.

It had spoken their language.

—

By dawn, every senior officer had gathered in the central tent. Their faces were grim, their eyes hard with doubt and fear. The Codex floated in the containment field at the center of the room, its glow dim but constant.

"It's aware," Lyssa said, standing at the head of the table. "And it's learning. Fast."

"Learning what?" one of the captains asked, his arms crossed.

"Us," Lyssa replied, her gaze unwavering. "Our language, our behavior, everything. It's been watching us since the moment we took it."

The room fell into murmurs.

"Then it's a threat," one officer said, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade. "We should destroy it before it destroys us."

"Destroying it might be the biggest mistake we ever make," Rael countered, his eyes sharp as glass. "If it's learning, then it wants something. We need to figure out what."

"Or it's just biding its time," Kael muttered. "I don't like this, Rael. I've seen this play out too many times. First, it learns your language. Then it tells you it's friendly. Then it guts you in your sleep."

"Then we don't sleep," Rael replied coldly.

He looked around the room, his gaze sharp and commanding. "No one touches the Codex. No one speaks to it unless I give the order. We watch it, just as it watches us. If it wants to learn, it'll learn that we're not prey."

The officers exchanged glances but didn't argue. They trusted Rael. They always had.

But as Rael gazed at the Codex, its glow faint but steady, he knew one thing for certain.

It was already too late.