Chapter 95: Resolve and Racism... probably.

Chapter 95: Chapter 95: Resolve and Racism... probably.Richard stared at the sleek, alien-born jet before him—crafted from black composite curves, powered by gravitational manipulation and plasma propulsion. It was futuristic, silent... and far too advanced to have originated from any publicly known program.

He narrowed his eyes. "Lina," he said. "Where did you get this? I don’t remember authorizing development this deep. These technologies—they’re not from any open military file."

[Correct, sir.]

Her voice came through the speakers as drones hovered gently overhead, their chassis reflecting the soft internal glow of the hangar.

[This aircraft is based on schematics and theoretical notes from a declassified extension of Project Bluebook. Contrary to public belief, the Roswell Incident was real.]

Jack, now climbing into the cockpit with boyish awe, paused to look back at Richard.

[The intent of Bluebook was not to investigate aliens—it was to disseminate disinformation. They used pseudo-scientific reports to convince the public that extraterrestrial life was impossible.]

Richard stared at the vessel, his voice low. "So what happened?"

[Eventually, the race known as the Grays—the short, pale humanoids with large eyes—demanded the return of their dead from the crash site.]

[In exchange, they offered humanity limited scientific cooperation. Technology. Gravitational manipulation. But there was a cost.]

A pause.



[They were allowed to abduct a limited number of humans annually—for experimental purposes.]

Jack leaned out of the cockpit. "Wait—that’s where gravitic field tech came from? These bastards traded people... for toys?"

[Yes. That’s the basis for the zero-gravity envelope in the aircraft. It manipulates localized gravity fields to neutralize inertia and mass-related resistance.]

Richard’s eyes grew darker.

"...What else haven’t I been told?"

[Initiating primary reveal protocol.]

A drone buzzed toward them from the ceiling. From its base, a beam of hardlight shimmered into view—forming a 3D holographic starfield, and then, orbiting the moon, a fleet.

Long, dagger-shaped ships, matte black, all cloaked—undetectable to satellites or radar.

[I discovered Project Solar Warden while infiltrating old USAF blacksite networks. To confirm it, I fabricated a stealth satellite with signal-adaptive sensors. After I rerouted all signal towers within a 1,000 km radius, the satellite was able to track irregular gravitational disruptions.]

[When tuned to a specific radio frequency modulation, the cloak field weakens—revealing their position.]

Richard stared in silence. "So... they’re cloaked."

[Correct.]

He turned, fists tightening. "I’ve also heard rumors. From my grandfather’s ritual. About a reptilian race connected to McKnight."

[Confirming.]

The drone shimmered again. This time, it displayed images—grainy, but real.

A long table, dark and ceremonial. Hooded figures sat in shadows. At the head was something that made Jack visibly flinch.

A towering reptilian humanoid. Clad in deep crimson and dark silver, draped in cloth like royal armor. Its yellow eyes glowed in the darkness, slit like a serpent. Intelligent. Arrogant.

[Encrypted data reveals this group to be part of a breakaway civilization—the 0.2 percent who secretly influence or directly control global institutions. Financial empires. Media conglomerates. Military black sites.]

The next images were worse.

Blacksite photos.

Humans in restraint rigs, with open cranial cavities, brains exposed and hooked to processors.

Rows of emotionless men and women, dressed in black skintight suits. Their eyes—dead. Their expressions—blank. Their faces wrapped in devices like muzzles.

Medical drones hovered over them, injecting fluid into ports beneath the skull.

Jack slumped down against the cockpit, hands trembling in despair. "Dude... what in the hell this?"

[Slaves. Test subjects. Manufactured obedience.]

Richard stood still. Silent. Rigid. His jaw locked. His fists clenched so tightly they shook. He never believed such abhorrent acts existed in the first place. No human could ever do something like this.

[There’s more.] Lina’s voice was quiet now. Distant. Reluctant.

Richard turned toward the hovering drone. "Show me."

[I found the file hours ago. Buried in a sealed, one-way channel—encrypted with multiple shifting ciphers and cloaked in phantom metadata. Not government. Not military. But intentional. Deliberate. Like someone inside their world wants this leaked.]

[My analysis suggests a mole—perhaps someone buried deep within their infrastructure. They want it seen. And I... retrieved it.]

The drone shifted, projecting the final file. The room darkened.

The image clicked into focus.

It was a dark, cold chamber. Stone floors. Dim lighting. Organic in design—alien architecture curved with flowing edges and dull, green-glowing veins.

And in the center... was a ritual circle.

A 15-foot reptilian humanoid, clad in ceremonial armor of etched obsidian, leaned over a naked, unconscious human woman—her body restrained, her limbs limp.

The lizard’s jaws opened... and bit down on her shoulder—not to kill her, but to feed.

Long. Slow. Deliberate.

It pulled back, blood trailing from its teeth, and let out a low growl that echoed in the chamber—something reptilian, yet reverent.

And beside it... knelt McKnight.

Kneeling. Head bowed. Hands folded like a priest before a god.

[Audio reconstruction initializing.]

McKnight’s voice came through, quiet, filled with awe.

"The sacred blood of Anu is yours to serve. She is worthy, my lord. Let her serve as offering and my proof of loyalty."

"Humans should only be worthy as a cattle farm, but I will consider your position."

Mcknight bowed. "Thank you, Lord Krill Khan."

The reptilian nodded once, slowly.

Then the feed cut.

Silence.

For a second, no one said anything.

Then...

Richard was already trembling with hanger, almost too softly to hear: "They’re feeding on us... They’re treating us like cattles."

[I was unsure if I should show you. But if we are to make war with them... you need to know what they’ve done and what they can do.]


Lightning sparked across his arm.

[Anu Blood Concentration: 53.78%] His blood boiled in anger as his jaws clenched. As a human being, he would never let this one pass by. No human in their right mind would accept it. He hoped God will forgive them but he won’t.

His pulse began to accelerate. The hum in the floor intensified.

Then—something cracked.

His back arched slightly, and raw electrical energy exploded outward, tearing across the room in a jagged arc. The floor shook. The drone flickered, nearly losing flight control.

[Sir... your vitals are unstable. ]

But Richard didn’t hear her.

His skin was glowing now—his veins, glowed in raw white-blue light.

"They feed on us like cattle—enslave us like livestock—speak poetry over blood and call it a blessing..." his voice rumbled, trembling the chamber.

"McKnight was kneeling. Worshipping. He’s not a human... he’s one of them."

[Sir, you need to—]



"THEY WILL PAY FOR WHAT THEY DO TO HUMANITY!!!"

The hangar shuddered. Quantum servers behind the glass dimmed for a split second as if time itself flinched.

"Humans enslaving humans is one thing. But lizards feeding on us like prey? That’s something that must BURN."

His eyes turned white with lightning.

Jack stepped back instinctively as the pressure hit—dense, like standing too close to a sun. His ears rang. He couldn’t believe what Richard has become sent shivers down his spine. The air grew thin.

Then Richard’s voice changed—distorted, layered with something ancient.

"This world... is OURS ALONE!!! EVERY ALIEN RACE SHALL OFFER THEIR CORPSE TO HUMANITY. THEY WILL NOT BOW DOWN AT OUR FEET. THEY WILL DIE!!!" he stepped forward, voice vibrating through the metal floor:

"I WILL HUNT THEM DOWN AND BURN DOWN THEIR WORLD TO IT’S ROTTEN CORE.I WILL BURN DOWN EVERY ALIEN WORLD I SEE. HUMANITY IS THE ONLY RIGHTFUL OWNER OF THE GALAXY"

Lightning arced upward—coiling into the ceiling like vines made of thunder. The entire facility trembled.

Back at the mansion, windows shattered. People ran, thinking there was a 5.6 magnitude earthquake.

[WARNING: Blood Concentration Rising — 69.62%]

[Psionic core approaching threshold. Emergency failsafe lockdown initiated.]

The drone spiraled, unable to hold altitude, spiraling as EMP ripples warped its flight gyro.

Lina’s voice—pleading now.

[Please... please, Sir Richard. Calm down.]

But the storm raged.

Jack stared at Richard like watching a god descend. He just knew Richard for only 3 years or so, but Richard has a strong sense of justice for the weak. He would fight someone as twice as strong as him just to protect the one being bullied. If there’s something that he would go batshit crazy with, is seeing his fellow friends or kin being oppressed.

Jack had to do something, if this was something that was exposed to the world, he would not only lose his brother and friend, but everything they’ve built would also be taken away. So he decided to wake him up to reality, as he walk towards him, struggling to breathe, he pushed forward—face grimacing, fingers burning from the static lacing the air.

And with every ounce of strength—he screamed "RAAAAAAAGGGHHH."

He punched Richard across the face.

Richard stumbled.

the storm raging instantly calmed down.

Lightning flickered.

Then—

Silence.

Only the hum of cooling systems, flickering drone rotors, and Jack’s gasping breath filled the air.

Richard’s eyes dimmed—returning to cyan.

The glyphs faded. The storm... calmed.

[Blood Concentration stabilizing... 51.02%. Emergency lockdown successful.]

[...You scared me.] Lina whispered.

Jack looked at Richard, still shaking, his voice raw.

"Fucking calm down, asshole. If you lost control now, who knows what will happen. You’re a genius right? Use your head for once."

Richard breathed hard.

Then said quietly:

"...You’re right. I’m sorry for that and thank you. I don’t even know what would happen if that continued."

He looked at the dark projection still frozen on the screen.

Jack sighed and said, "No matter. At least, everything’s fine... for now."

The tension in the air had finally begun to settle. The lighting across the second-level hangar dimmed back to its original soft hues. Only a faint, acrid scent of ozone lingered—a trace of the storm Richard had almost become.

As they walked back toward the wide platform elevator, Richard noticed Jack lagging slightly behind. His arm, partially covered by his sleeve, had angry red burns, the skin faintly singed. His cheek too bore the edge of an electrical lash—thin, branching like a lightning scar.

Richard slowed his pace.

"...Sorry," he said, quietly. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

Jack glanced over, then shrugged. "It’s nothing."

Richard raised a brow.

"I mean, it hurt like hell," Jack added with a crooked grin, "but hey, you’re glowing like Zeus and threatening to vaporize the enemy. It’s cool."

Richard gave a faint, tired smile.

Jack’s tone shifted, softer now. "Look... I get the anger. I’m angry too. But fury without direction is like a shotgun in a library. It’s loud and messy. It doesn’t fix shit."

Richard nodded. "I know. But it’s hard not to feel like we’ve been slaves, cattles—all of us."

Jack stopped and looked at him.

"This isn’t just another conspiracy. This is racial pride, Rich. Human pride. If those Illuminati bastards really are serving some overgrown lizard monarchy that eats people like wine and cheese—then screw that."

Richard paused mid-step.

Jack’s voice dropped into something dead-serious. "But we’ve gotta be smart. You’re not just powerful now. You’re symbolic. You’re the spearhead, not just the sword. If there’s a chance humanity will truly be free, then it’s you." he jabbed a finger at him.

Then, as if his own thoughts overwhelmed him, Jack suddenly broke into a grin.

"Okay but also—dude—that lightning thing? Was badass."

Richard gave him a side-eye.

"No seriously," Jack continued, "I was waiting for you to shout ’For Asgard!’ or swing a hammer. You looked like comic book Thor out there."

Richard exhaled through his nose. "God, you’re annoying."

Jack brightened. "So? C’mon! You owe me a demo! Show me some lightning tricks."

Richard shook his head, but couldn’t help the grin pulling at his mouth. "You got electrocuted by my aura... and now you want more?"

Jack threw his hands up. "Bro. You almost turned into a force of nature. At least let me enjoy the perks before the planet goes full X-Files."

Richard raised a hand and sighed. "Fine."

He extended both palms outward. A subtle hum vibrated the air. Then—

CRACK.

Twin arcs of lightning surged from his hands—like serpents of blue fire. They struck the damaged drone, still flickering nearby, and sent it spinning in the air with a final, metallic whine before it dropped to the ground, disabled.

[Target: Neutralized.] Lina’s voice echoed. Calm again. Professional. But not without curiosity.



Another idle drone, hovering nearby, locked into stationary mode.

"Next," Richard muttered.

This time, his eyes flashed.

He reached out—no lightning, no fanfare. Just a soft thrum of pressure, like the silence before a landslide.

The second drone froze in mid-air.

Then, with a sudden twist, it crumpled like paper—folding into itself and dropping to the floor with a dull metallic thud.

Jack’s eyes lit up. "Okay, that was scary cool."

Richard rolled his shoulder. "I’m still adjusting. The System said my blood’s waking up... it’s like unlocking things I don’t fully understand."

[Correction: You are becoming what you were always meant to be.] the System whispered, in his own ears alone.

Jack slapped his shoulder. "Well, whatever you’re becoming... good. Because we’re going to need something greater than human if we’re going to take back our world."

Richard looked ahead toward the rising third floor platform.

He didn’t speak.