Chapter 17 The Struggle on Mars, Tiriel, 17, Time Warrior, Enlil, Gadreel in Lilith, Adam, and Eve
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In the Martian chamber’s shadowy refuge, a faint rebellious light flickered. Sunlight, thin as a ghost’s breath, danced across walls scarred by eons. The Time Warrior fixed his gaze on Seventeen, his eyes glinting like fractured galaxies behind a crystal-diamond mask that shimmered with lost worlds’ memories. The air held the acrid tang of scorched metal and shattered stone, an electric ghost of battle clinging like a mourning shroud. His armored form, marked by the wounds of future wars, stood resolute in a past both ancient and yet to come. His scepter pulsed with tendrils of aetheric fire, casting luminous shadows that writhed within the gloom.
The Time Warrior paused, the enormity of his purpose and the burden of ages bearing down on him like a gathering storm. For a fraction of a second, his heart seemed to still, as if the air itself held its breath in anticipation. “Yes,” he said, his voice a low rumble echoing through time, heavy with the weight of eons. His reincarnated memories shimmered just beneath the surface. “I am the one from your dreams—a shadow slipping through time’s fractures, seeking wisdom to stand against Elona’s dark tide in a future unwritten by your eyes.”
Seventeen’s brow furrowed, and his breath caught as he reacted to hearing the name. He repeated, “Elona?” letting the word linger, his expression reflecting recognition and concern. He wondered how this figure could know about his boss, Elona. Seventeen gathered himself and pressed on, asking, “Who is she? What of Gadreel and Enlil?”
The Time Warrior’s lips tightened, a storm of memory shadowing his weathered features. “Gadreel and Enlil lie broken in the ashes of a future war. They are dead,” he said, his voice thick with regret, a warrior mourning foes he once vanquished, unable to retrieve the answers he needed. “Vile as they were, their malice pales before Elona’s shadow. I didn’t know who the true evil one was before they fell. I stand now, forging and training souls for a greater battle. Once, Elona was my ally; her cunning deceptions masked her evil and her alliance with a force unknown to me. We fought them together. But when humanity faced its crossroads, she betrayed me, not with steel, but with a vision of cold technocracy, where artificial minds strangle the soul. I sought Gaia’s counsel, and she led me to Ki—a realm Tiriel knows well. Seventeen, you know this person quite well because I am you from a future not yet realized, and Tiriel is another iteration of our shared journey through time. Together, we navigate the labyrinth of destiny, bound by memories yet to be made and battles yet to be fought.”
Tiriel’s voice wove into the silence, soft as rustling leaves, yet carrying the weight of Ki’s ancient truths. “A wondrous dimension, isn’t it?” His eyes, bright with resolve, a shared understanding passing like a current between them, forged in Gaia’s radiant embrace.
The Time Warrior’s gaze drifted, as if piercing time’s veiled tapestry. “Wondrous when chaos roars,” he murmured. “In Ki, I trained humanity to blaze against AI abominations. These creatures hunger to scour organic life. Yet the truth gnaws at me. Gadreel and Enlil were puppets, their strings pulled by a hand I cannot name. But whispers spoke of a shadowed legacy —a secret keeper hidden from sight—whose thirst for power transcends time itself. It is said that this keeper seeks to forge a world bent to their will, manipulating both time and destiny to create a future where their rule is unending. I must unravel their whispers.”
Seventeen stood frozen, his mind racing as he processed the revelation that he would eventually become the Time Warrior. He thought: How could this possibly be?
Far from their shadowed council, deep within the enigmatic Face of Mars, Alalu staggered free of his humming prison. Crimson bloomed on his cracked lips as he coughed blood onto the dust-choked floor, painting a doomed sigil on ancient stone. The crypt’s air was heavy—thick with the scent of betrayal, old gods, and secrets buried beneath Martian storms. Enlil loomed above him, a tempest of divine rage barely contained. His eyes, dark and shifting, shimmered with the threat of annihilation. “At last,” Enlil hissed, his voice slicing through the silence. “Your death is here!”
“Good.” Alalu rasped, a brittle laugh clawing from his throat, defiant despite his trembling frame. “I’m weary of torment. What delays you, Enlil? Finish what Anu began—that craven fool lacked the spine to end me. Your father is a fucking coward!”
Enlil stepped forward and slammed his fist against Alalu’s jaw, the loud impact echoing through the crypt. “Rise,” Enlil ordered, his tone sharp, as he challenged Alalu to face him directly.
Alalu dragged himself upright, swaying like a sapling in a gale, his laughter a spark of unyielding defiance. “What are you waiting for? Kill me and send me to the Taker! When I awaken, I will avenge my death!”
Enlil’s eyes shifted to Gadreel, who stood silently nearby, his presence tense. Enlil spoke with both fury and respect: “This is for Yaldabaoth. Your soul will stay here until the end of time!”
In the shadowed council, the Time Warrior whirled to Seventeen and Tiriel, urgency sharpening his voice to a clarion edge. “Who is Yaldabaoth?” The question seemed to still the air, rippling with an ancient fear.
Tiriel hesitated, disbelief flickering in his eyes. “Are you serious?” he asked, the faint tremor in his voice betraying a mixture of fear and skepticism.
Seventeen glanced between them, adding his voice to the weight of the moment. “They call him a primordial force,” he ventured, his tone cautious, as if treading on forbidden ground.
Tiriel cut in sharply, his disbelief evident. “A force or a myth? We’ve heard the tales—you know, cosmic manipulator, destiny’s weaver,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes,” Seventeen agreed, his eyes dark and serious. “Older than the stars themselves, they say.”
The Time Warrior nodded, absorbing their fragmented answers, the mystery deepening with each heartbeat.
Seventeen shook his head, dark hair swaying, eyes bright. “The one that controls Enlil and Gadreel; he is the evil behind this Elona of the future,” he said, the words heavy with truth.
“Are you ready to fight?” The Time Warrior’s words were a call to forge fate from chaos, his scepter flaring with soul’s radiant fire.
Seventeen’s chin lifted, resolve hardening his gaze, a warrior born of future wars. “Yes.” His voice was steady. “My army stands poised.”
Tiriel’s lips curved into a faint, eager smile, his spirit alight with purpose. “I’ve waited too long.” His words were a vow.
Within the Face, Enlil towered over Alalu. His presence was a cold wind scouring the crypt. “Ready to die, entombed in this red wasteland, forgotten by time,” he taunted. His voice was a venomous hiss.
Alalu met his stare, embers of defiance burning in his sunken eyes. “Words are cheap, Enlil.” He spat. “What the fuck are you waiting for, coward—strike!”
Enlil’s bracelet ignited with otherworldly light, coalescing into a sword whose blade shimmered with the promise of oblivion. He raised it high, the weapon’s edge humming with anticipation, poised to sever Alalu’s fate from his weary body. Yet, as the moment hung in suspense, Enlil’s gaze flicked briefly to Gadreel. In that silent exchange, unspoken but laden with understanding, a pact seemed to weave between them—a signal of complicity and shared intent. Before the blow could fall, a searing laser split the gloom, lancing through the chamber and striking a nearby machine. Metal screamed as the frame buckled, a cascade of sparks painting frantic constellations on the crypt’s walls. Enlil whirled, fury twisting his features. “Gadreel! The enemies are here!” he bellowed.
Beyond the walls, Mars itself trembled. Vibrations rippled through the red sands, an omen that a battle of legends was about to ignite. Yet amidst the shivering sands, a solitary dust spiral rose, curling into the cobalt sky like a phantom. This twister carried the whispers of ancient secrets, soon to be buried by the restless Martian wind. These secrets, if unveiled, unravel truths that might shift loyalties and strategies. As it ascended, a sense of foreboding whispered among the warriors, hinting that the dust spiral was not just a natural spectacle but a harbinger of revelations crucial to the battle ahead.
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