September 27,2021 - October 5, 2021

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"The only thing humans truly kill is the truth. In war, the truth of corruption is killed by peace. In murder, a person kills his own truth with the victim. Does truth heal the conscience, or kills it?"

It was finally time, and my watch beeped sonorously as if transmitting my thrill in the sound waves. It wasn't a request from Rizolar, but rather a voyage to Uncle Samuel, who finally completed his task by the supervision of his conscious, rather than speed. He was heading back, from the UK's centre, in a 13-hour journey through the oceans. I walked to station five, about 7 kilometres off the Mystic Forest's back entrance. The fog lingered in the morning air, not interrupted by the roaring of the snoring beasts. This was a phenomenon known as Nebiterne, owing to the fact that the fog at this exact spot never dies, despite the rest of the forest's transparency.

I don't recall the last time I explored Earth for personal reasons, but it has a few remarkable landmarks that capture ones interest, such as the pyramids of Egypt and the Great Wall of China. Then comes the complex chain of trains running underwater, in the Kingdom. I never lost hope imaging the sophistication engraved in each metal bar, window, frame, and every component forming the trails and those trains. It was more of a spectacular landscape, drawn by some artist at peak of his creativity. But no matter where my imagination ran, it remained a drawing. Not a structure that is present beneath the blue vastness, running and running to reach its destination.

According to the blueprints in Landrocks library, those trains connect all seven continents in a miracle. Not the pressure, not the depth, not resistance, and nothing stops their wheels from rolling. However, all these are features carved to satisfy the logic. The true bewilderment lies in their shield. They are invisible to Eartherians and every living creature. Just like Rizolir and Sereveth, they are guarded by the shield of the hundred crystals.

After nearly an hour and a half, I arrived at the station, feeling the pulsation of blood in my veins. I stopped and observed the vast area of water bodies, which nullified any land behind. I never met anyone afraid of ambling, but there were countless terrified at the thought of diving, of death, and the unknown. A thought would always cross my mind, 'What if the ocean was just traumatized because of the countless wars it witnessed, and gradually turned into a cruel monster that devours whoever enters its territory?'

It wasn't long before my eyes came upon Uncle Samuel, walking out of the black tunnel, with clear exhaustion on his wrinkled face.

"Welcome back, Uncle Samuel. How was the trip?"

"Louis, you walked again, didn't you?" he replied.

"It's fine Uncle Samuel. It's a pretty good exercise," I replied.

And so we headed to the private car prepared to escort him back, further driving through underground tunnels. In the blink of an eye, the trains, and monsters were behind us, and we returned to the 'ordinary life' that was never ordinary.

"I am so sorry I wasn't with you yesterday. But you know, these days the Kingdom has many turbulences."

"It's ok. I'm sure she's in a better place now," I replied.

No one lived forever, and at twenty Adriana-my only sister- died. She was killed. Every human is destined to die. Death is there in every breath, step, and blink just waiting for the order. September 26th, at 20 years old, was her last breath. A week after her death, the Kingdom traced me. Uncle Samuel was assigned to be my guide and explained to me the truth regarding the approaching radiation. At the time, 21 years were left. I would die at around 40 years old, and it didn't matter. I believed that Earth was committing suicide.

Nevertheless, I continued perusing Ariana's dream. Her only wish was to see me as a computer engineer- my long-life dream. However, the journey of my education was far from smooth. Studying, missing the fun, the stress, and the lack of sleep was only a quarter of the problem. It was accepting the fact that my sister was no longer there to encourage me, talk to me or simply listen to me. Suddenly, the burden of my father going gambling every night was apparent, because my sister was no longer there to conceal his actions. Just like that, I continued failing and waiting for death's order.

But, it wasn't exactly the end. By a miracle, Uncle Samuel revived a strand of fallen hope.

He taught me the arduous university textbooks before teaching me how to become a protector. I found something to grasp, rather than waiting for 21 years to pass. Soon enough the degree was in my hands, and I even had someone to celebrate my graduation and pride with. Uncle Samuel came, wearing the fanciest suit, smiling, and as far as I remember, tears glimmered in his eyes.

"How's Aryn in her classes with you, by the way?"

"I don't know. I wish the kingdom has given her some time to recover. But her test is in a week, we'll see how it goes," I answered.

"Give her some time. She needs it."

As soon as we reached Rizolir, it was about time for Aryn's class. I sat by and programmed the robot for the presentation. It was due Chapter 15, the chapter after which 'Rules of Death' was named.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked, as Aryn finally arrived.

"Better. Thanks for asking."

"Anyway, today we'll discuss Chapter 15. If you feel the topic is heavy at any point in time, please do inform me."

She raised her right eyebrow for a few moments and nodded.

"Today we will go a bit into our after-life. You see, when protectors die, they're sent to the kingdom of Sereveth- that is the Eastern kingdom ruled by the descendants of Queen Luna- the Stelle Tama dynasty. This was one of Queen Luna's rules Queen Adria had to surrender to if the war was to stop. Anything to ask until here?" I continued.

"No. Proceed."

"In the eastern kingdom, there are very sophisticated machines- we here to this day don't exactly know, that are used to revive dead protectors. However, what we do know is that the ability of blood to produce Lumini disappears. The protector loses all of his memory in the process and becomes liable to Sereveth, and an enemy to Rizolar. The process can only be done twice before a protector is buried in the graveyard of Angelwing," I continued.

I further explained the limited details the Kingdom knew, how we sent spies in hopes of decoding the machine, and the private investigations raised. Her reaction was the same throughout- simply nodding and remaining silent.

"And by this, we're done with chapter 15. Your assignment is to explore the following list of locations and write a full report about them. The submission due is next month. Any questions?"

"Yes, I have one. Why do you care so much about our death? An average human lives about 80 years. But, we'll already be dead in 5 years There's no need to do any of what we're doing. This rock manufacturing, and giving Earth sustenance for five more years. It's pointless."

"What's truly pointless is your discussion about it. Earth is dying yes, and there's nothing we can do. Just try to accept it instead of thinking about it." I boldly replied.

"Well, I am sorry I want humans to live. Perhaps you don't know that because you have no life outside the Kingdom."

"As if you do?" I sarcastically responded.

"Goodbye."

I couldn't get my eyes off Aryn's book. It was crippled and ruptured- especially the research chapters. The once yellow pages were now as brown as faint rust, and the printed words were long neglected by the endless notes she wrote in blue. There are two scenarios. It was either she'll make me believe in life again and struggle for Earth's survival- 0.02% chance- (and I am only saying 0.02 because I don't believe a 0 exists), or I'll drag her thoughts and shatter them and put her into reality - 99.8% chance (a 100 doesn't exist either).

I headed to the library of Landrocks and began designing Aryn's test. There were hundreds of books and twice the number of resources tailored for specific objectives. It took more than an hour to find one suitable question. Test-making here had its book of rules and procedures. Each question I dictated to the computers was checked against over 10 databases, before being sent for approval.

If five questions succeeded through the algorithm of the databases, only one would be accepted. The fact that I wanted the test to be smooth, and guaranteed success didn't help, which was a dilemma on its own. Tests here are rather a twisted maze with two ends, designed by destiny.

The first end of the maze means the orange Pearl, an oval from the heart of the sea mixing all shades of amber with brown strokes. However, the second end does not hold beauty, but rather a dim fate. A wall, by which no one can pass. If a protector fails his tests, his powers are granted to another human and his memories of the Kingdom turn into dust flying by as if nothing happened.

The search for the new protector begins and understanding the mysterious clues of the Sphere of Sapien. It reveals clues about where to find the protectors, at a suitable time. It was more of a game, where hints had to be connected in a single direction. By the fifth protector, the clues diverge and decrease and they become an invisible phantom. Thus it wasn't a surprise that finding Aryn required the efforts of hundreds of experts.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I continued reading through the books and dictating questions without expectations of their approval. Minutes, Hours, days and then an entire week passed.

The robot was finally programmed and the questions were approved. The examination room wasn't under the stars, or those stands universities brag about. It was simply a room with four grey walls and no light, and as confined as a cage if not tighter. The only light beam was an adjustable lamp placed on the table of examination, and another beside a clock. And by a clock, I mean one that beeps in red every five minutes.

The room was simple if not terrible to the naked eye. But behind its simplicity there lay the art of sophistication to create what is the most dangerous toxin. Pressure. In other words, a protector will be put under pressure and will have to become resistant to this toxin if he is to take the first lane of the maze.

Besides the main robot, the robotic proctors, the pen, and the clock were all ready. There was only one thing missing. The candidate. Five minutes were left, then four, then three, then two, then one. Then zero.

At that moment exactly, Aryn came running as if chased by a lion, and the guards behind her were holding a lantern, being the final moments of light for an hour. However, those few seconds were enough to show the startled eyes of Aryn, and her trembling limbs, so much that the book fell from her hands. She looked at me perplexed, appealing for a change of room through her eyes.

"Please have a seat. The robot is ready, and I will start it from the control room above. You have exactly one hour to answer the questions. There will be infrared cameras detecting every move of yours. That is in addition to a camera right on your desk, so be careful."

I went to the room. I pressed the red button.

It was a weird feeling to see a protector seated there, being the beginner I once was. Zoned out, I looked at her through the camera and recalled what it took her to reach there. 'Was I too harsh?' I asked myself. For a second, I felt it was a test for my conscious. However, there was one undeniable fact, that adjourned those thoughts.

It didn't matter how hard the questions were. The Sphere already chose her to be one of us long ago- something no protector has ever experienced. If the reason was a person with a living heart, it wouldn't dare approach, Aryn. However, when the reason finally dares to explain itself, she will wish for those five years to pass by.

"Time is up. Any button pressed on the screen will lead to disqualification," the machine behind her robotically said.

The door opened to reveal the moon, a paradise to the candidate. Uncle Samuel and Aunt Giana stood parallelly, with their right hand on the shoulder. I was just behind them, as Aryn approached wordlessly recalling all her answers. About ten guards stood behind us, bowing respectfully. The ceremony was some sort of drug to treat the toxin of pressure, or so were the traditions.

After the little ceremony ended, Uncle Samuel called me to his dorm with discomfort and a pale face. One of his eyebrows was raised, and he looked at the ground as if his eyes feared people. His agitation instantly released adrenaline in my limbs.

"Are you okay? What happened?" I inquired worriedly.

"They sent me this book. It's called the Art of Resurrection," he answered