Cyber Chronicles 1: Crimson's Effect

Epilogue

Lincoln lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his body drained of energy after a relentless week. The passage of time had been marked by significant events since his awakening.

A few days had passed after Lincoln's awakening before Crescent finally regained consciousness. Although he was on the path to recovery, it still took some time before he could be fully discharged from the medical facilities. The shadow manipulator, now relying on crutches, faced a slow and steady recovery process.

Lincoln had taken a significant step by promoting Dexter to the position of Commander. He acknowledged and valued his friend's innate leadership skills. Initially, Dexter struggled with the weight of the new responsibility, but he eventually embraced the role, committing to meeting Lincoln's expectations.

Amidst Dexter's immersion in the responsibilities of his newfound leadership, Lincoln wrestled with a palpable sense of displacement. Stripped of his role as a frontline soldier, he felt a deep longing to actively participate in the ongoing battles. The ache intensified as he observed those who had once followed his command now making sacrifices for the country's peace, their actions unfolding without his direct involvement.

However, he realized that his journey had evolved, and the challenges he faced now transcended the immediacy of individual skirmishes. While the transition was challenging, he held onto the hope that the sacrifices made by his comrades would be worthwhile. As he navigated this new chapter of his life, he clung to the vision of a peaceful world, aspiring to make their sacrifices meaningful and reach the utopia he had envisioned.

Later, Lincoln received a summons to the prison, drawing him into a long-awaited encounter with one of its most dangerous inhabitants—Edgar. 

Among the six wielders dispatched by the German organization, the very entity that had callously abandoned them, Edgar emerged as a central figure. Like his five comrades, Edgar had a past marked by minor criminal activities, yet their transgressions became the pretext for ruthless experimentation. It served as a stark testament to the twisted nature of the German government.

Edgar, alongside his comrades, now grappled with a quest for purpose and redemption. Their desire for revenge burned as intensely as Lincoln's, fueled by the shared experience of being deceived and their lives irreversibly marred by the Organization's machinations.

As the former German soldiers stood united in their grievances, Lincoln grappled with the authenticity of their intentions. Was it a genuine quest for redemption, or an elaborate act to manipulate the situation? Recognizing the potential to harness their shared resolve, Lincoln saw an opportunity to enlist their aid in supporting Dexter and the military's cause.

However, Edgar unexpectedly proposed to join Lincoln on his journey to Alvanian which caught Aytrex's attention, especially due to Edgar's unique time manipulation ability. Known for his capability to slow down time, Edgar revealed an even more intriguing aspect—he could halt time completely, as evidenced by his escape from the prison. The mysterious occurrence that had left Lincoln puzzled was now clarified.

However, Edgar explained that the act of stopping time took a considerable toll on him, limiting the frequency with which he could employ this extraordinary skill to a few times a day. 

As the gentle hum of the AC provided a subtle backdrop to his thoughts, Lincoln sighed. Tomorrow marked the beginning of his journey to Alvanian—a new planet in a different galaxy. Uncertainty clouded his mind as he contemplated what lay ahead. Aytrex, though an invaluable guide, had been vague in detailing his home planet. Lincoln could only anticipate and wait to experience it firsthand.

This impending voyage symbolized more than just a physical journey; it was the commencement of a new life, a new purpose, and a new set of responsibilities. The weight of these changes lingered in the air as Lincoln sighed once again, allowing his eyes to gradually close as he succumbed to the embrace of sleep. The unknown awaited him, and with each breath, he inched closer to the dawn of his extraordinary odyssey.

A familiar sensation washed over him, accompanied by the acrid scent of smoke that filled his nostrils. Lincoln's eyes fluttered open, finding himself once again amid the burning forest. This time, an odd awareness settled in; he knew it was a dream, yet an unsettling realism clung to the surreal setting.

The air hung heavy with the pungent smell of burning wood, and Lincoln's surroundings were engulfed in flames that danced and flickered with an eerie glow. The crackling of the inferno echoed through the dream, creating a disconcerting symphony of chaos. Smoke billowed upwards, casting a haze that veiled the distant silhouettes of trees consumed by the fire.

Lincoln's gaze moved hesitantly across the fiery landscape, each step fraught with an otherworldly tension. The heat pressed against his skin, and the distant wails of burning echoed through the dream, creating an unsettling backdrop. The flickering flames painted erratic shadows on the ground, distorting the very fabric of the dream realm.

As he ventured further into the fiery expanse, the surreal nature of the dream intensified. The flames seemed to respond to his presence, their dance shifting in response to an unseen force. The air crackled with an energy that transcended the mere boundaries of sleep, leaving Lincoln to grapple with the troubling blend of awareness and dreamlike unreality.

A voice, a haunting echo amid the crackling flames, pierced through the smoky haze. "Tyrants..." it murmured, the word carrying a weight that echoed through the dream. The disembodied voice seemed to emerge from the very essence of the burning forest, weaving itself into the chaotic symphony of the fiery landscape.

The crackling flames, previously dancing to their chaotic rhythm, now seemed to pause in reverence, as if acknowledging the significance of the uttered word. Lincoln's senses heightened, and he strained to locate the source of the spectral voice amidst the disorienting inferno.

"What about the Tyrants?" Lincoln questioned, his voice cutting through the crackling symphony. The smoke stung his eyes, and the radiant heat pressed against his skin as he sought answers within the dream.

"The Tyrants... they already knew about Earth..." The voice responded, its static-laden words lingering in the air like a haunting refrain. Each syllable carried a weight, as if unveiling a long-buried secret that resonated through the annals of time.

The smoke, thick and suffocating, veiled the surroundings, making it challenging for Lincoln to discern the origin of the voice. His gaze darted through the fiery haze, seeking clarity amid the obscured dream landscape.

"What's so important about Earth?" Lincoln's questions cut through the smoky veil, his confusion palpable in the dream. The burning forest seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the unraveling of a narrative that defied the boundaries of both reality and the dream realm. 

"They are looking for the Core Emerald..." The voice explained, its static-laden whispers revealing fragments of an enigmatic tale. Each word resonated with a sense of urgency as if the very fate of Alvanian hung in the balance.

"What is that?" Lincoln queried, the dream forest around him pulsating with a muted energy. The voice, a spectral guide through the dream, unfolded the cryptic narrative with an air of inevitability.

"It is the determining factor of the Great War of Alvanian." The voice elucidated, its words weaving a tapestry of ancient conflicts and celestial significance. The dream forest, once a mere backdrop, now bore witness to the weight of an otherworldly destiny.

"If they complete it, then all is over." The voice's proclamation hung in the air, each syllable echoing with a sense of impending doom. The dream forest, bathed in the glow of relentless flames, became a theater for the unfolding drama of cosmic proportions.

"What about you? Who are you?" Lincoln's voice cut through the dreamlike ambiance, seeking to unravel the mystery of the spectral guide that held the key to the fate of Alvanian.

But before the voice could respond, the surroundings absorbed into themselves, and a single word echoed through the fading dream. "Adelaide." The voice lingered as Lincoln woke up with a gasp, the remnants of the dream dissipating like smoke in the waking world.

To be continued...