The Dream Code: Yume no Kodo [Light Novel] Vol. 2 – Page 11

Page 11

March 2033. Within the serene, technologically advanced chambers of Jirca, the capital’s holographic screens flickered, projecting scenes that stole the breath from the room. The air, usually alive with the quiet hum of AI and innovation, grew heavy with dread. Across Jirkunland, the nation’s citizens watched their personal displays, witnessing a tragedy unfold. The proud, mighty Zoros, long the bulwark of the world, had been consumed. Not by an external foe, but by a poison from within. Aanza’s insidious influence, a shadow that had grown in the secret places of power, had finally seized the heart of the Zoros.

The visuals shifted, showing the formidable Zoran military, a gleaming, terrifying force, marching forth. Their target: the Bubbians. Before this advance, however, the Zoros had committed a profound sacrilege. They had desecrated the Bubbians’ sacred, ancient temple, a place of profound spiritual resonance. It was upon the very ruins of this hallowed ground that Aanza declared his intent to establish his throne, the seat from which he would rule all that existed. This act of desecration was a grim omen. Within the Zoran government, factions already swayed by Aanza’s manipulative whispers and promises of ultimate power had aided his swift ascension. They seamlessly integrated his dark vision, unlocking the full might of the Zoran military to unleash upon the unsuspecting Bubbians.

The justification, broadcast across every available channel, was a narrative spun from pure malice. It painted the Bubbians as reckless, their own networks fatally flawed, their reliance on external—now Aanza-controlled—entities making them a blight upon global harmony. The world, its governments driven by desperate desires for power and susceptible to the allure of Aanza’s burgeoning evil, watched in horrified fascination. The age of saints had faded, leaving nations adrift in a sea of ambition. Most countries, already weakened by the subtle economic and social fissures Aanza had painstakingly created, saw this as an opportunity. They aligned themselves with the Zoros and Aanza’s deceptive promise of unity, a “salvation” from the crises they now faced. This grand alliance, woven with threads of propaganda and manufactured necessity, was poised to seize the vast lands and resources of the Bubbians, a stepping stone for Aanza’s dominion.

The Bubbian Cataclysm was swift and merciless. As night fell, and the Bubbians slumbered, the Zoran legions struck. The Bubbians, their infrastructure compromised, their alliances fractured, and their spirits weakened by prior manipulations, found themselves exposed and defenseless. Millions perished in the brutal onslaught. The Kaazkaans, not directly allied with Aanza but eager to claim their own power amidst the ensuing chaos, entered the fray from another flank, adding to the devastation.

Only Jirkunland, and a handful of its smaller, steadfast allies, refused to bow to Aanza’s call for a unified, corrupted future. Jirkunland stood apart, a solitary beacon of light against this first wave of destruction, its principles unyielding. The Bubbian people, their homeland in ruins, their lives shattered, saw Jirkunland as their only sanctuary. They fled, a torrent of desperate souls, towards its borders.

Mitsuru approached Master Genryu, his expression a mask of sorrow, yet his voice held an unshakeable resolve. “Are we going to sit and watch?”

“The time is not yet right, Mitsuru,” Genryu stated, his gaze piercing. “If we unleash our full force before Aanza’s legions are committed to confronting us directly, we will be swept away. Soon, Aanza will gather almost the entire world’s might near the gates of Jirkunland. That will be the moment. We will unveil our true strength, a spectacle that will turn the tide of perception and battle. Until then, we must wait. Keep the gates open. Offer these souls solace and protection within Jirkunland. And fortify our homeland relentlessly. The probes at our borders have already begun; we cannot afford a single vulnerability.” The age of waiting had begun, a perilous gambit to preserve the last bastion of hope.