Chapter 155: Renewed Faith, New Alliance

Chapter 155: Chapter 155: Renewed Faith, New AllianceRichard gestured vaguely towards a nearby metal crate. With a soft hum, it hovered into the air, then drifted silently to land behind him, as if guided by an unseen hand. Nicolau’s eyes tracked its movement, his jaw dropping slightly. He can control objects? With his mind? Just like the old stories of the shamans, but real! The thought screamed in his head.

Richard’s voice echoed directly in Nicolau’s head, clear as if he’d spoken aloud, a playful lilt to the mental tone. I can talk with minds too, Mr. Nicolau. Not just move objects. Richard smiled, a knowing, almost mischievous glint in his eye, a hint of ancient power simmering beneath the surface.

Nicolau gasped, pushing back in his chair, his eyes wide with a fresh wave of terror and astonishment that bordered on exhilaration. He scrambled to his feet, pointing a trembling finger at Richard’s head. "Is that one of those too?!" he stammered, his voice choked. "Those... those symbol powers? Black magic from the jungle, but somehow... perfected?"

"It is an energy study which needs no symbols to initiate the power itself," Richard clarified aloud, his smile still present. "More complex, yes, but also a part of what we’re revealing here. A pure manifestation of will, Nicolau. Something inherent."

Nicolau took a deep, shaky breath, slowly calming himself, though his heart still hammered against his ribs. He carefully sat back down, removing his shirt completely. His back, a canvas of old scars from countless skirmishes and betrayals, was now exposed, ready.

Lina, with a subtle gesture of her hand, controlled a small, nimble fabrication drone. It descended with silent precision, its fine point hovering over Nicolau’s skin. Before he could react to the anticipated, agonizing pain of a traditional tattoo, a sharp, momentary sting flared across his back, intense and sudden, like a thousand needles pricking him at once, and then it was gone.

The drone retracted, vanishing back into its station. Nicolau touched his back, bewildered. The pain of atomically rearranging his skin in real-time was unimaginable, fleeting, but it was done. He was in awe by how fast that was. He had expected it would take hours, a grueling ordeal.

Richard then projected a shimmering image into the air above his desk: a perfectly symmetrical Metatron’s Cube, its interconnected circles and lines glowing with internal light, each line seemingly vibrating with unseen energy. "This is what I put on your back, Mr. Nicolau," he explained. Nicolau stared at the projection, transfixed. Even as a simple tattoo, the symbol was just beautiful, mesmerizing in its complexity and sacred geometry.

"Now, Mr. Nicolau," Richard said, his tone gentle, "do you need a private room to pray? For this... ritual."

Nicolau, his eyes still fixed on the glowing symbol in the air, shook his head, his voice resolved, gaining strength. "No. How can I be a man of faith if I’m embarrassed of others seeing me how I pray to my God?" He knelt right there on the pristine floor of the command center, ignoring the high-tech surroundings, bowing his head. He closed his eyes, clasped his hands, and began praying in rapid, fervent Brazilian Portuguese, the words tumbling out in a torrent of devotion. The shift from his fluent English back to his native tongue, a language of deep faith, was profound.

Ten minutes into his prayer, a soft, golden glow emanated from the mark on his back, pulsing with his every murmured word, growing brighter with each syllable of conviction. Richard subtly gestured to Ciano, who had started to lean forward in surprise, his eyes wide at the display of raw faith.



Ciano nodded, forcing himself to remain silent, not wanting to disturb the man praying, as he was about to freak out too from the sheer intensity of the spiritual energy radiating from Nicolau.

Finally, Nicolau finished. He stood up, a deep sense of peace radiating from him, a spiritual calm that seemed to fill the very air of the command center. "How did I do, Mr. Santamo?" he asked, turning, a newfound lightness in his step.

"You’re doing great, Mr. Nicolau," Richard replied, a genuine admiration in his voice. But then, as Nicolau turned, the symbol on his back flared brighter, catching Nicolau’s eye in a reflection from a nearby polished surface. He gasped, a startled cry escaping him, his eyes widening in renewed shock, and the glowing symbol immediately dimmed, then extinguished.

"What happened?" Nicolau asked, a mix of confusion and frustration on his face, a sudden doubt clouding his certainty.

"It was working, Mr. Nicolau," Richard explained patiently. "That symbol gives absolute protection. The interconnected circles and lines of Metatron’s Cube are seen as symbolizing the harmonious balance of the universe and the interconnectedness of all life. But its strength, its activation, is based on your belief. When you freaked out, when you saw it glowing and felt that surprise, there was chaos in you, doubt. It disrupted the energy flow, and the symbol deactivated. For a while."

Nicolau sighed, a sound of self-reproach, then a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, recentering himself, letting go of the fleeting doubt. He opened them, and the symbol on his back lit up again, this time with a steady, unwavering luminescence, a beacon of golden light.

Richard gestured to Ciano, who silently raised his pistol again, his movements precise. Nicolau, remembering what happened last time, was prepared. He stood absolute in his faith in God, utterly certain that no one could harm him now, his resolve iron-clad.

Ciano aimed the gun, fired three times.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!

The bullets, moving at terrifying speed, didn’t even reach Nicolau. A foot from him, they struck an invisible barrier, not flattening, not disintegrating, but evaporating into pure, shimmering light, vanishing completely with a soft pop. It was as if they had simply ceased to exist.

Richard’s eyes widened, a rare look of profound surprise on his face. Lina leaned forward, her expression intrigued, a genuine spark of scientific curiosity in her gaze. Even Ciano, ever stoic, lowered his pistol slowly, a genuine awe coloring his features, a silent reverence for the faith he had just witnessed. How strong could his belief be? Richard wondered, a new respect for the cartel leader blossoming in his mind. This man... he could be an absolute anchor for the energy. A true bulwark.

Five minutes after the astonishing demonstration, Nicolau, Ciano, Lina, and Richard were once again gathered at the command center’s main interface. Nicolau’s face was still etched with a mix of awe and a newfound, grim determination. He looked at Richard, then at the glowing symbol that still pulsed faintly on his back.

"I accept, Mr. Santamo," Nicolau said, his voice firm, no longer just considering. "Rather than an alliance, I would like to join your cause. For humanity. This... this changes everything." He glanced around the high-tech chamber. "It wouldn’t be surprising how you’ve hidden so much of this technology from the world."

Richard nodded, his silver eyes serious. "Yes, the reason would be the aliens, our enemies. If that wasn’t the case, if humanity faced no existential threat, I would’ve given an opportunity to propel humanity into the stars, to share all of this openly. But that’s not the case. We are on what you would call a ’dark forest theory’ footing, where every race for themselves. It’s not to disincentivize any future cooperations with other extraterrestrial races, but humanity is a master of contingency. We have a lot, just in case, technologies.



What we see on our current world—the nuclear bomb, the deterrent, mutual destruction—we cooperate with each other based on unequivocal trust through mutual destruction. Other than that, it’s just politics, played by the Krill. Or as they called themselves, the ’harvest leaders’."

"Yes," Nicolau said slowly, the truth settling in. "I believe you’re right. But what’s your plan? How do we fight an enemy that can hide among us and drain us like cattle?"

"If we openly reveal ourselves now," Richard explained, leaning forward, "we might harm humanity more than help it. Our enemies might openly invade our planet, trigger a full-scale war we’re not yet ready for. We have to operate in the shadows, liberate bases under their control, buy ourselves time to bolster our defenses. We have to expect tomorrow they might invade, or perhaps even now. We have to be ready all the time. As for now, we lack critical information on their full capabilities. I believe they are operating off-world."

This revelation surprised Nicolau, and a fresh wave of fear washed over him. "So you believe there are bases on the Moon and other planets?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

"Yes, truly," Richard affirmed. "All we’ve detected so far on the surface are Krill-controlled human bases—the processing centers, the harvesting hubs you saw the footage of."

"Hmmmm..." Nicolau mused, tapping his chin. "I understood now why you want us to operate on the surface. For publicity."

"Yes, and more than that," Richard elaborated, "centralized control over Brazil. If you show the media, the public, that the cartel now works for the people, that it’s cleaning up the streets, the international countries might leave Brazil alone. They might even see you as a new, legitimate force. But we aren’t sure about that, still. It’s a way to buy time and to eliminate any potential Krill-controlled groups in the country, who might oppose your new direction."

"Hmmmm... then we will do just that," Nicolau said, a thoughtful, calculating look in his eyes. He paused, then: "But I assume there are other reasons you called me here?"

Richard smiled, a rare, genuine expression. "Yes. As you can see, only I am the human here, in this immediate circle." He gestured to Lina. "Except for Ciano, who works under you."

Nicolau pointed to Lina, his eyes narrowing. "What about her? She’s been quiet, but she looks like a human. She is human, no?"

Lina turned, her gaze direct, her voice devoid of emotion. "I am an artificial intelligence, Mr. Nicolau. A sentient construct."

Nicolau staggered back a step, a profound shock rendering him speechless. "B-but... she looks just like a human! She talks, she acts..."

Richard chuckled, a warm sound. "On the surface, yes. A highly advanced android chassis."

"Uhh..." Nicolau stammered, shaking his head in disbelief, looking from Lina to Richard to Ciano, who remained impassive. "I-I can give you men. Strong men. Loyal men. Ready for a fight."

"No," Richard said, his tone softening. "Anyone is fine. We need warriors that are not so easily afraid of death. With the strongest faith, undeterred by fear of death."

Nicolau’s lips curled into a smirk, a flicker of his old, ruthless self returning. "Then that is what we excel at, Mr. Santamo. I’ve known my men like they’re my brothers. They’re not afraid to die for their families, for their beliefs."



"Then that’s good," Richard said, his smile returning. "Their families can live here, if they desire. In this base. Safe from the Krill. Safe from everything."

Nicolau’s smirk widened into a full, genuine smile. "Okay. Okay. I’ll tell them discreetly. Massive movements of people cause suspicion, after all."

"Yes," Richard agreed. "Slow is fine. We have time, but not infinite time."

"How many do you need?" Nicolau asked.

"As many as you can give me," Richard replied, "but don’t leave yourself without enough to maintain your surface operations. That cover is vital."

"I have more men than I actually need," Nicolau boasted, a touch of his old swagger. "As long as you give them food, shelter, and some entertainment, that’s good enough for them. They’ll follow me to hell and back if their families are safe."

Richard then brought up another image on the holographic display: a symbol of a Vesica Piscis, resembling a stylized eye, elegant and ancient. "And this," Richard said, "is a Vesica Piscis symbol. It looks like an eye, a gateway between worlds. You might want to subtly change your cartel’s symbol to this. And more importantly, traditionalize strong faith on your men, perhaps make them tattoo it on themselves, anywhere they choose, as a sign of their commitment, their belief, their protection."

Nicolau looked at the symbol, his eyes thoughtful. "That I’ll surely do," he said, taking a mental imprint of it. "It’s beautiful. And powerful. I can feel it."

Later, after a few more discussions on logistics, recruitment, and the subtle shifts in surface operations, Nicolau stood. He extended his hand to Richard. "I’ve gained a lot from our interaction, Mr. Santamo," he said, a genuine respect in his voice.

Richard clasped his hand firmly. "As have I, Mr. Nicolau." He then turned to Ciano. "Are you returning with him, Ciano?"

Ciano smiled, a rare, wide, and truly human smile. "Yes, I do. I still have to look after those kids."

Nicolau chuckled, clapping Ciano on the shoulder. "They really are a handful, aren’t they?"