Taras Ramses: Guardian of Earth

Chapter One: Labyrinth

The room I entered was steeped in an indistinct, muted light that seemed neither natural nor artificial. It cast a gray haze over everything, from the steel-gray walls to the investigator seated behind a stark metal desk, whose edges seemed to soften into the shadows. A thin red folder lay exactly in the center of the desk, a splash of color in an otherwise sterile world.

Beside it, a sleek, oblong device with a subtle glow perched at the corner of the desk, its purpose unknown. It gave me an uneasy feeling, as if it were a silent observer, gathering data with more accuracy than even the person who sat across from me.

The investigator—if that's what they were—seemed devoid of any discernible gender, a being crafted to be unassuming, a faceless interrogator in the most literal sense. No introductions were made, no names exchanged. They regarded me with eyes that held no warmth, no curiosity—just a depthless, empty scrutiny.

"Your full name," came the request, a voice that barely rippled the silence.

"Taras Ramses," I replied, aware that my name probably held no meaning to them, just another variable in a file.

The investigator didn't react, didn't even look at me, as if the answer was already filed away. Android, I wondered? No...perhaps more human, but only just.

"Describe the physical training of space border guards in detail," they requested, their voice flat.

"What specifics do you need?" I replied cautiously. "The training spans seven years. Condensing that into a single answer is—"

"We are interested in the Labyrinth," they interrupted, voice as sharp as a scalpel.

I blinked, thrown by the reference. The Labyrinth was hardly a central part of the course—it was a test, a rite of passage more than anything.

"Alright," I said slowly. "But it's not a component of our physical training. It's...different."

"Then explain this test," the investigator said, tilting their head in an approximation of curiosity. "And most importantly, explain how you managed to pass it."

I took a breath, reaching back to memories that I had tucked far away. "There are no clear instructions for navigating the Labyrinth. It's a vast network of natural and artificial caves, both ancient and modern, which forms an underground maze. No one knows its exact length, width, or depth. The individual—often called the 'excursionist' with a certain...irony—has only one task: enter the maze and exit it."

"That's all?" The investigator's voice betrayed the faintest edge of surprise. "Just...go in and come out?"

"Out of ten who enter, only seven make it back. And of those, only three are fit to continue in the program. The others..." I hesitated, but decided not to spare the details. "The others break down. The psychological strain is severe. Ten days in complete darkness, with only enough food and water for one day."

"I see." But the expression on the investigator's face suggested anything but comprehension.

"And you lasted the full ten days?" the investigator asked, sounding almost amused, as though I were recounting a weekend camping trip.

"No," I replied. "I left on the third day."

A spark flickered in the investigator's eyes, and for the first time, I noticed something more—a glimpse of humanity, perhaps even a hint of femininity, concealed beneath layers of neutrality.

"The Duke helped me," I added, watching her reaction.

"Duke?" she said, her curiosity piqued. "Who is the Duke?"

"The Duke was in charge at that time. He was the Navigator."

The investigator's face tensed slightly, a micro-expression. "Navigator?" she echoed.

"Yes, Herzog was the Navigator, and I...well, I was his favorite."

"How exactly did he help you?"

I could see she wasn't satisfied with vague answers. I thought of Herzog, his steady gaze, the quiet authority that radiated from him as he shook my hand before I entered that darkness. He'd looked me directly in the eyes, and with only his lips, he'd said, "Droite."

The investigator's brow furrowed slightly. "That's it? One word? And that's what helped you?"

"It's simpler than you might think," I said, allowing myself a half-smile. "Once I entered the cave, I closed my eyes and never opened them again until I reached the exit."

"So...how did you find your way?" Her voice held a spark of something almost like awe.

"Each time I reached a fork, I turned right."

For a moment, silence hung between us, heavy with a thousand unasked questions. The investigator's gaze dropped to the red folder on her desk, fingers twitching as though resisting the urge to open it.

"You chose to navigate a maze blind," she said, voice barely above a whisper, "and emerged without losing your sanity. Why?"

I held her gaze, resolute. "The maze was designed to destroy the mind's sense of certainty. But by taking choice out of the equation, by following only one rule—'Droite,' turn right—I eliminated doubt, fear, and even time itself. The darkness could not consume me if I embraced it."

The investigator said nothing, simply closing her eyes for a brief moment. When she opened them, the neutrality was gone. In its place was a faint, reluctant respect.

"It seems you're more than just a candidate," she murmured.