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Planet Ignis | Chapter 14
🕑 Added 2025-02-10 12:17:27 +0000 UTC...intertwined legends.
Ayu, the game maker, occupies a unique position in the lore of Longevity Chess. While renowned for his pivotal role in reforming the Collegiums, his creation of Longevity Chess solidified his place in history. The game became a conduit for imparting wisdom, leading to a remarkable increase in the tribes’ average lifespan.
If you draw the Ayu card, managing your pawns will be key...
In “The History of Longevity Chess” by Eli, the Flarewalker
Across the metallic landscape, the apex predator of Ignis prowled, camouflaged against the dark surroundings. Its elongated, spike-lined limbs scraped the planet’s metallic crust, leaving faint trails. Three heads—fused from salvaged machine parts—blinked in unison, each AI core calculating with relentless precision.
Scorch marks dotted its exoskeleton, testament to the futile efforts of those who had tried to resist. Lesser burns marked strikes from Oranges; darker scars showed where Yellows had attempted to incinerate it. None had succeeded. With each conquest, the Predator found more memory, more processing power—drawing closer to the elusive goal of becoming whole.
Now, with upgraded processors, the Predator’s movements flowed smoothly, spasms all but eradicated. But as it moved, it encountered an anomaly: a transmission. Its sensors processed the source: Hitori. This name triggered its survival subroutines, flooding its system with imperative commands.
Must terminate Hitori. Decode message.
The Raptor initiated decryption protocols and paused, examining the first layer of encryption: a questionnaire.
Question 1 – A father never says ‘I love you’ to his child.
a) That’s excellent parenting.
b) A father saying ‘I love you’ should be avoided at all costs.
c) None of the above.
The Predator’s computing cores halted, momentarily puzzled. The concepts in the message—love, family, compassion—were incompatible data points, corrupted strings beyond its programming. It attempted logical guesses, forcing each AI core to cycle through possible answers.
Decode message. Must know. Must understand.
The Raptor’s processors ran hotter, systematically attempting combinations. In its cold, calculating mind, Hitori triggered an impulse of hostility—deep, algorithmic directives to find and eliminate the target. Yet its progress lagged, ensnared by the message’s human-centered logic.
*
It was almost time for the council to reconvene. Brodnir could hardly get any sleep last night. The Raptor was too dangerous for his kin, and the decision weighed on him like molten metal, searing his conscience. He had hoped that the day to use his flame would never come, but it seemed that day was near.
Brodnir replayed the events in his mind, lingering on the peculiar questionnaire Dr. Hitori had sent. The questions were absurd, each one stranger than the last, designed to confound anyone with even a shred of humanity. One question had especially stood out:
“Question 324 – You see a baby. What do you feel?”
a) Awe at its perfection.
b) Contempt for the creature.
There were hundreds of questions like this, all foreign to the Raptor’s narrow, survival-driven mind. With this encryption method, Hitori had bought them time.
After the last council session, Brodnir had instructed Faren to complete the survey and decode the encrypted message. Once completed, the result had been a voice recording, urgent and carrying a faint English accent. The voice introduced itself as Dr. Hitori, a crew member of the Phoenix spaceship.
Hitori explained that Schneider—the Raptor—was growing stronger. He shared coordinates to his location, urging them to bring the Celer mutagen to help him implement enhancements vital to their survival. Hitori claimed he had developed a solution to strengthen the mutagen, extending both lifespan and strength, a last hope against Schneider.
As soon as he heard this, Brodnir had summoned the council to reconvene. Each council member needed time alone to weigh the significance of Hitori’s message. Decisions born of independent contemplation brought more depth to their discussions, as opposed to mere echoes of one another’s thoughts. Brodnir understood this, and so he had granted them a night to reflect.
Now, as the council members returned, Brodnir saw that he hadn’t been the only one unable to sleep. Trother and Eli, like him, bore dark circles beneath their eyes. Raccoon eyes, or panda eyes, as the old saying went. He didn’t know what raccoons or pandas were, but supposedly, they were animals famous for their insomnia—an expression that had survived intergalactic travel.
“Good morning, you two!” greeted Brodnir from within his throne.
“My king,” said Trother, bowing. Eli followed suit.
Brodnir looked at the young lit. “Eli, the starved. We meet again, young one. Too bad your first council must be such a problematic one. These are troubled times.”
“I am learning a lot, sir. I am confident that with you and Master in the council, we will be all right.”
Brodnir smiled, appreciating the boy’s humility. For all his genius, it was this humility that he admired most. Brodnir and Trother had often discussed Eli’s promise, Trother reassuring him that Eli would be ready to fill his wise shoes someday.
“We will count on your voice in the council in the future. Learn well, son.”
“Yes, sir.” Eli turned to take his seat, leaving Brodnir and Trother a moment to exchange a look. Unspoken understanding hung heavy between them, a shadow of what they both knew was coming.
As soon as Eli was far enough away, Brodnir spoke in a low voice. “So... is it just us two?”
Trother met Brodnir’s gaze, his eyes shadowed with the burden of knowledge. “No, my king.”
Brodnir nodded gravely. “Us three, then.”
Trother let the impassive look return to his face and went to sit at Brodnir’s right hand with Eli. When all council members had arrived, Brodnir, king of the Burrows, presided over the meeting, signaling its beginning.
“Esteemed council. Faren. I declare we are now in session. We have all had time to consider the revelations from yesterday. Let’s review them once more for clarity.
“Of the four settlements, two have fallen. We must assume the Raptor is now more formidable than ever and that it is heading in our direction. Faren, based on current data, what is your estimate for its arrival?”
“According to my calculations, factoring in the tides of the Flare, we have approximately one year remaining—if we are its next target,” replied Faren.
One year. Great Hearth, thought Brodnir. It was sooner than he had anticipated. But he quelled any signs of anxiety; leading this council would require a steady hand, not a panicked mind.
“Furthermore, we face an astonishing development,” he continued. “We have received a message from someone whose name we know only from the historical records and from Longevity Chess cards. A figure we thought was lost to the ages. Faren, please replay the message for us once more.”
The council listened intently as Faren replayed the recording that had broadcast from all frequencies of the orbiting satellites. The familiar, urgent voice filled the chamber once again:
“Greetings, fellow survivors. I don’t have much time. My name is Hitori, and I am a member of the original crew of the spaceship that brought humans here, the Phoenix, our beginning here. The start of your history. Your genesis. I don’t have much time. Schneider, the Raptor, is getting stronger, and I can’t hold him off the satellite grid much longer. He will probably intercept this message. I have encrypted it, which should buy us some time. Here are the coordinates of my location. Hurry and bring me the Celer mutagen, which enables you to survive here. I have developed a solution that should turn it upside down, improve it, increase your lifespan, and make you stronger. This is the only way to turn this game around and stop Schneider. Do not delay. We must turn the tables on Schneider! We don’t have much time!”
