The Myth
The burning gigantic Ranam symbol drifted freely in the breath taking periphery of the Andromeda galaxy, sharing its mesmerizing liquid flaming colors with the vivid rainbow lights and shades of the majestic star garden glowing behind it. The floating bi dimensional symbol was more than a rare inter dimensional singularity. Its amazing diameter of 140.000 km from pole to pole and a thickness of 0 was the nest of the Ranam Cult's War Temple. The surface danced like flames, and the apparent deepness within the burning liquid energy was more than a beautiful illusion, it was the reflection of the Ranam inter-dimensional continuity.
Inside, there was another world, another reality. A place no one could enter, and if some one miraculously could... He would disintegrate and the little that was left would drift inside the endless Ranam labyrinth; forever lost between layers of strange dimensions. But the labyrinth was not the only singularity inside, there was much much more... Towards the endless center rose the great land of Ranam, the "True Paradise", as the Ranams called it. The place were the many aliens assimilated by the Cult's strength and ideals lived and worked, prayed and obeyed; dedicating their lives and ideals to the progress and expansion of the Ranam Cult. All living in opulence and their own ideal of greatness. Their urban zones and cities were amazing in every sense of the word... The Ranam bio architecture was simply breath taking and splendorous; despite the outward dissimilarities between various temples and palaces conceived by several different alien races assimilated by the cult, beauty and opulence ruled in each one of them. There were also sacred symbols regarded as holy and divine by the cultist's prime religions all over them, symbols which had some degree of similarity with the Ranam's symbolism and philosophy.
The meaningful and powerful symbols were clearly visible in the buildings and in their ornamentation, and even in the settings in which they have been placed. Each symbol, pillar, shrine, room or hall was inspired from the religious elements of the Ranam Cult, elements which formed an integral part of the Ranam way of life.
The streets were covered with tales and the written history of the Ranam Cult. Tales of greatness and conquests, of delights and learned lessons, and more important, the cult's main commandments were conveniently placed and related to each important historical fact. All streets leaded to one gigantic temple in the center of the urban zone; the religious palace of Cindra, the keeper of the Ranam's way of life and wellness.
The alien vegetation growing around the palace courtyard and the color of the courtyard walls declared loudly who was the herald in charge of that temple-palace. In this visual way, every cultist knew the allegorical meanings which the forms, the colors, and the statues in a temple are meant to convey and who was the temple's guardian and ruler.
Cindra watched the bizarre bright pink sunset in the endless horizon and the large bristling cities that surrounded her palace whit doubts and concerns. Her slender and radiant gaseous body, now in solid state, was shining delightfully, enjoying the luminous caress of the artificial sun that was gently bathing her. She was fighting many unsolved questions in her heart almost the entire day; questions she didn't dared to ask her Great Prophet, Sarakh. Mainly because he was a true mastermind and the architect of the civilization that was considered one of the greatest powers in the universe. And also because Sarakh's generosity and power was as great as his rage and stubbornness. If he only were more open... But then again, he was, with his brother and confident: Dorvakh. But maybe she could find answers for some of her concerns, with the proper questions... Perhaps he would listen and give her doubts some relief.
She told herself over and over she shouldn't doubt Sarakh's decisions. After all, he never failed the cult and always kept his promises; no matter how great or impossible they were. But this time... The cult seemed to be fighting for a cause so invisible and banal, that everything could be nothing more than a ridiculous personal feud from the great prophet; and that would be completely unacceptable.
Cindra raised her hand, indicating the alien slaves that were perfuming her body to stop and leave her private quarters. She turned her head 180° with delicacy and told her personal slave to stay for a brief moment. Baku nodded with his long cigar shaped head and knelled down. Cindra walked to him graciously, caressed his head whit softness and went to her floating throne. The throne hall around them was an open balcony with an incomparable view of the impossibly large city surrounding her palace, and was designed to magnified the always impressive voice of the female alien general. She sat slowly and spoke.
"Look around you, at the face of glory, Baku. Look and tell me what you believe of it."
"I do not have the words nor the greatness to describe something that only your grace is capable of, my mistress."
"I see... and what about you, Baku? Are you complete? Don't you miss something of your past? Don't you feel empty sometimes?"
Baku lifted his head a bit, as much as he could; no Ranam citizen or warrior was allowed to look in the eyes of one of the god-generals, even less to Sarakh the Great.
"I have no reason to keep such attachments my mistress, and only allow myself a few memories to remind me of the desolation and weakness I was saved from. Now, I have everything I have ever wanted, even eternal life. "
Cindra was amazed at her personal slave's confidence and apparent unbreakable loyalty. But his answer was not the excuse her heart was looking for.
"What about your former gods? Don't you miss them? Are you not afraid of their rage?"
Baruk allowed himself a brief smile.
"Why should I fear, my mistress? The true gods, the Ranam gods, conquered me and my world. I pledged my ancient gods back then to save me, to protect me... And they did nothing! Despite everything I did to please them over my entire life! They betrayed my trust and deserved nothing but my rejection!
Cindra looked at his slave with surprised eyes; his words shaped her own feelings and doubts.
"You abandoned your gods because you could not trust them?"
"Yes my mistress, and will do it again without thinking it twice."
"I see…"
Cindra took the decision and turned her throne around, her face flushed with determination and courage.
"You may leave now, Baku."
"Yes, my mistress." Baku bowed ceremoniously and softly left the throne hall.
Cindra's throne rose slowly. The richly ornamented hall opened like a blossoming flower, announcing she was leaving her palace. The lights of the great multicultural alien city below and beyond casted a marvelous shades of colorful lights that enhanced her majestic skin and the beautiful flying throne she was sitting on.
Glancing upward, she saw the first artificial stars appearing in the young evening sky. Each night in the inner realty of the War Temple was different and breathtaking unique; changing every day to honor the home world's night sky of each race present. These stars were beautiful, but they weren't hers today.
The aliens that noticed her throne soaring gently above the city bowed ceremoniously. Soon, every sufficiently intelligent life form bowed or saluted her religiously. She was a Demigoddess after all; a figure to fear and reverence; a model to look at and imitate. She was the guardian and ruler of the Ranam cities and every non military sentient being inside the temple.
Beyond the limits of the bristling cities, crossing the sacred Ranam plains and bizarre mountains, was the inter dimensional gate that allowed her to pass to the other universe of the temple; the Mutalink Gardens. The Gate was enormous and made of thousand active mutalinks moving seemingly without pattern, like a wall of ants; but always keeping the perfect form of the gate. Cindra concentrated and an invisible power commanded the mutalinks to open the gate. The thousand little killing machines move to the edge of the gate, opening a circle from were a purple glow blew outwards. A pink mist started to flow from the other side. Cindra hurried up and penetrated the gardens. She gained altitude quickly and flew above the endless mutalink spawning grounds. The field was mostly covered by a giant inter dimensional grapevine plant from which the mutalinks were generated and spawned. Each mutalink slept and developed inside a dark blue fruit, similar to a grape but more ovoid in shape, with many brothers developing in the same cluster. Shym was moving softly among the vines, in an almost liquid form, like a water snake; checking the progress of a new breed of mutalinks. Perhaps the ones the cult will use in its next battle.
Beyond the Mutalink Garden was the endless electric blue mantle of the Ocean of Doom. This bottomless ocean was the home and breading world of the most powerful weapon of the cult: the Broohm. Cindra increased her speed and flew considerably above the safe altitude; this place was the scariest of all within the temple for her. Even from far above the surface she could hear the broohm's roars from the ones swimming close to the surface, and occasionally spot one or two jumping high over the water. She could feel Dramuru down there, swimming among his entrusted monsters, ruling a kingdom no one would want to live in. She asked herself many times how could he and Shym live alone, only having the company of the cult's weapons to socialize with; the intelligence of the Mutalinks and the Broohms was very high, yes, but they were just thinking weapons; weren't they?
A few ours later at supersonic speed and she finally reached the flying pillar of light floating over the center of the ocean; the bi dimensional doorway to the Altar of Commandments and the Great Propeht's temple.
Cindra stooped in mid air and amplified the power of her aura. In an instant she shot out a single invisible power wave; like a perfectly transparent spherical flash. Her power signature reached even the far corners of the War Temple. She had just knocked the Great Prophet's door.
Seconds latter, the pillar of light glowed whit unbearable intensity, forcing Cindra to look away, then exploded violently in a blinding flash. The blast morphed into a gigantic alien eye made entirely of multicolored dimensional flames; it looked at her powerfully. The eye's cat like pupil dilated until it became a perfect circle and became dark blue, allowing Cindra to enter the deepest levels of the War Temple; the exclusive domains where only two chosen could live. Inside, she turned her high speed flight into a gentle breeze; respect and obedience to the rules where among the most critical cult's commandments and not even Sarakh with his inter dimensional powers would bend that reality. The misty plains before the altar, far below, were covered by pumpkin like cocoons were the Hivors slept and morphed. The rare endless purple shaded sky around her had no clouds, but hundreds of Keelings flying around like curious ravens; its concentration increased significantly upon her arrival to the altar.
The Altar of Commandments was one of the most important structures and the center of the cult's laws and judicial system. Inside it, Dorvakh decides the life and death of any criminal. And it also was the place where all of the cult's litigations were solved. It was an incredibly huge totem like structure that could also be described as a marvelous super tower, divided in ten different segments from bottom to top. Each segment was a deformed representation of one of the ten Ranam gods. But this huge eye catching structure was not her goal; she came to talk to the boss, to the supreme itself. Curiously, she could not sense the presence of Dorvakh inside the altar, even though she was ascending very close to it.
The last Ranam deformed god was holding a huge perfectly polished and richly ornamented sphere, covered with symbols that were identical to Sarakh and Dorvakh's tattoos.
The Ranam Great Prophet's Temple was the manifested symbol of the Ranam Faith, revealing the strength, power, and truthfulness of the great prophet's revelations. On the other hand, its elements showed respect for the basic beliefs of the cults past and origins; even having incorporated many new features to better represent the universality of Ranam, it was still clearly influenced and bounded to Sarakh's race and culture. The Temple acted as a constant reminder to the followers of Ranam that the path for the many was forever one. The temple complex consisted of the main house of worship; a visitor center, the forbidden library and the palace complex itself, as well as many secret places. Although it looked solid, it was an inter dimensional structure created to accommodate the leader of the cult: the strange and powerful alien that called himself Sarakh.
Very little was know about Sarakh or his brother Dorvakh; some cult's legends mention that he and his brother were saved from their solar system's destruction by the Ranam gods and empowered to become the leaders and rulers from all living beings in the universe for they faithfulness. The gods had taught them the path of Ranam and entrusted the responsibility to "open" the hearts of every living creature in the universe to follow the path of Ranam at all cost. Those who refused should be return to the nothing, from were they came from and were they were surely end.
Cindra waited and prayed to the Ranam goddess of beauty; she was not only her greatest inspiration, but also the source of her courage and strength. The goddess was never among the ten great gods at the beginning of time, but her strength and determination gave her the power to conquer her place among them; a place that was rightfully hers. And Cindra was about to face a challenge as great as that: to question the great prophet's motivations and decisions. It was a very serious issue; Sarakh was the voice of the Ranam gods, they speak through him. How could he be wrong?
Cindra hesitated for a second and she was about to turn around, when a circular aperture formed in the giant sphere's south hemisphere. It was too late, or perhaps a sign from the gods…
Cindra's throne advanced forward, to the perfectly empty dark interior. When the sphere closed behind her everything around changed marvelously. She was not levitating in a black void anymore, but over the gracefully ornamented floor of Sarakh's throne hall. The place was a completely different kind of reality.
Sarakh the Great was sitting in his throne, before the main altar, built on top on the last prophets eternal rest place. There were floating memory symbols from all ages containing the memories of all the cult's previous prophets and the history from the civilizations conquered or destroyed by the cult; the tales of the Ranam gods, and in the small adjoining shrines the first patriarchs of Ranam. The decoration was overwhelming and in some places tenaciously opulent.
Cindra quickly descended from her levitating throne and knelled down. Sarakh nodded and allowed her to stand up.
"Welcome Cindra. Is something afflicting your soul?"
"No my lord, I..." a cold and scary aura touched hers, it made her skin shiver. She suddenly looked at her right; the power signature was unmistakable. An impressive figure stepped out from the darkness, almost a reflection of the cult's great prophet: Dorvakh. "So, here he is..." Thought Cindra, and tried to deduce the reason. She couldn't find one so she left that mystery alone for now. She had a much greater dilemma in her hands: what was she going to tell Sarakh? "...I was, concerned, about some citizens murmurs... It appears that there are a few Ranams that are asking ridiculous questions about the reasons relating to our battles in the last cycle. I heard some are arguing that our last campaigns had no goal at all. And as your servant I have come to seek your wisdom and guidance.
Sarakh looked at Cindra as if he could read her deepest thoughts, and grinned maliciously.
"I could not expect less. Who?"
Cindra bowed deeper. "I only know about the rumors, my lord. I beg your forgiveness for not identifying the ones yet."
Sarakh smiled and gestured. "I understand their concern. And after so many battles and glories in this long path, I wish to let them know how our journey ends."
Sarakh sit up and a tattoo in his forehead morphed; his throne behind him vaporized. "Rise Cindra, and celebrate with me the hour of our glory!"
"Forgive me, my lord, but endless battles and unsolved questions had softened the sweet taste of power and victory in my heart. And I fear than many of your servants may feel the same way..."
"Nonsense, my dear..." Sarakh grinned and handled Cindra an alien flower floating nearby; she accepted and took it delighted. Cindra absorbed the flower, allowing its life to penetrate her body and give her an euphoric and pleasant sensation… The flower withered and literally dissolved in her hand.
Cindra sighed delighted. "Delicious, my Lord..."
For the Ranam heralds, the Darfold has always been the most delicious flower; it enjoyed unparalleled popularity throughout the high casts of the cult from the earliest times down to the present day.
"Thank you, my great prophet. It was wonderful..." she murmured with a soft voice, almost hypnotized by the sensation.
Sarakh gave one to his brother and enjoyed to flowers on his own. "Not as wonderful has the glory yet to come, Cindra."
"Tell me about it, my Lord."
Sarakh turned a bit more serious, but never lost his good humor. "You usually never disappoint me Cindra."
"The stronger will inherit the universe; it is the law of the creation. I am one of them, and my efficiency testifies my superiority." Cindra enhanced.
Sarakh took the subject in his hands and went deeper.
"Ah... Yes. But, are we already the strongest? Are we one with the gods?"
Cindra smiled, she knew how this little game was going to end, but decided to play it anyway "We are among the strongest. Ranam is recognized has one of the most powerful forces in the universe. No one as ever dared to challenge your power, great Sarakh."
"You know as well as I dear, that to be one among others is not enough. We must be supreme!" Sarakh pressed.
Cindra knew Sarakh was right, but cycles of battles and study have told her that the supreme power Sarakh always referred to was nothing but an impossible dream. Or wasn't?
"Forgive me, my lord, but aren't we already supreme in our own way?" Sarakh smirked opulently. He walked to the center of the hall and extended his four arms in a spiritual posture. The whole room transformed itself into a huge and advance holographic library were tales and ancient documents, historical images and millennial alien artifacts floated freely, each one more appealing than the other: the Forbidden Library. "Not without the ultimate power... The ultimate weapon!"
Cindra lurked forward and frowned, more curious than convinced. "And which is this weapon my lord is so eagerly seeking?"
Sarakh advanced through the holograms and played with them like a painter with the colors. He took the floating data and images and composed a beautiful and vivid story, full of life and drama; like an ideal musical composition where each note was perfectly placed. "Legends, tales, myths... All information in the universe is composed of truths and lies. But the superior minds..." He took a couple of ancient pup stories, and after breaking them in pieces, rearranged the data creating an impeccable new historical vision. "...Can perceive the truths inside each tale and extract them to let them shine and enlighten! What do you know about Ituran, Cindra?"
"The myth? A tragic story with a tragic end."
"Tragic indeed... But believe me, Cindra, there is more inside this myth than just fantasy and exaggerations. You see... There is really no such thing has a myth. All tales, lies or not, have some degree of truth, you just need to see deep enough… Our battles and conquest have paid us well, for they have opened us the knowledge and the path to the ultimate weapon, which indeed, the Iturans created many eons ago as the myth tells us."
Sarakh went on, showing holograms about a long forgotten civilization; the images were so vivid that it appeared to be a freshly produced documentary.
"Ituran was perhaps the most powerful civilization of the young universe, maybe even the first to reach the stars. But unluckily for them, their pacifism became their demise... This ancient tales explain how they were conquered and submitted. And because of their stubbornness to obey any authority beyond themselves they were eventually exterminated by their conquerors; all of them, except two. Two brothers who managed to escape the talons of death and swore to avenge their civilization and themselves by creating an unstoppable weapon. Two brothers with the same goal, but different visions as the time revealed. But obviously it was impossible to create something better than what the Almighty Creator conceived, so they searched the stars for eons in the hope to find the perfect raw material to reshape it into their dreamed Armageddon machine. And they found it! Both creations had the same based matrix and were 60% identical, but it was that 40% than changed everything..."
Sarakh turned to the impressive holograms of the two alien brothers displayed at his left; they looked almost identical: one was slightly taller and had paler skin, while the other's skin was darker and had more sinister eyes; the ayes of an assassin. Sarakh started with the shorter one.
"The younger of the two, Bertron, was consumed by revenge and could not think on anything else but to eventually destroy the responsible for the horrendous fate of his kind. While Raoron, his older brother, dreamed to recreate his lost civilization out of his "perfect" beings, to produce a new life form hat would never be killed again nor conquered. Sharing practically the same goal both brothers worked together fanatically, only until Bertron's hate and Raoron's dream finally separated them. But each one continued their own quest to create their "perfect weapon" or "perfect being" independently. The final creations of both were as similar as two Darfold flowers, but has different has night and day. Bertron was the first to achieve his goal, for his creation had many less demanding properties. But his weapon was everything it promised to be and more... It was a perfect and sadistic reflection of his twisted heart; an almost immortal monster, brutal in every way. A killing machine, slightly more intelligent than an infant; incapable of achieving any high intelligence level or to experience feelings.
"What happened to that abomination?"
"It turned to be so powerful and blindly aggressive than it became impossible for Bertron to contain or dominate it. And finally, it killed his own maker" Sarakh laughed "How ironic and stupid… to be killed by your own weapon."
Cindra looked at the monstrous Doomsday creature Bertron had created and a dozen questions arouse in her mind, the most obvious surfaced first.
"And that beast is the weapon we are seeking?"
Sarakh grinned and disappeared the monster's image. "No, Cindra... Of course not. To manipulate an uncontrollable weapon is like playing with a time bomb. No... We are seeking the true perfect weapon. Raoron's creation!"
Bertron's image vanished, leaving his older brothers hologram to dominate the view in the library.
"Raoron was not a blind vengeful spirit like his brother. But rather a sentimental artist as well as a genius; he created a destructive poetry, a killing flower, merging beauty and endless power in one discreet form."
Sarakh gestured and two magnificent holograms of a male and a female human like bodies emerged from the data streams aside Bertron. Sarakh's voice could no longer conceal his enthusiasm as he explained.
"Perfectly adaptable, creative and highly intelligent. Two genders, pure and unthinkable power!" Cindra's face didn't share his master's enthusiasm and gave her away. She was not even slightly impressed, but overly disappointed. If there was a great secret behind this, she decided she needed to know it right now.
"That puny being is Raoron's ultimate weapon? It looks nothing but weak and fragile."
Sarakh laughed loud
"But of course! That's what makes it even more dangerous! That it appears fragile and harmless... But inside..." Sarakh revealed her the astonishing data he kept hidden for decades. Cindra's mouth opened in shock, a long dormant feeling woke up for the first time in many cycles: the fear for something or someone beside Sarakh. "That cannot be true!" She looked at Sarakh directly in the eyes, violating one of the most important rules of the cult, clearly terrified and worried at the same time.
"But it is! Like Bertron's Doomsday creature, Raoron's creation is also triggered by the stars." A beautiful hologram of a young sun appeared between Sarakh and Cindra. "But his version is much more efficient than Bertron's, and according to the diary of one of his slaves, much more powerful and lethal, but more difficult to master as well; since its full potential can only be achieved under the creature's conscious control."
The big sun hologram shrunk a little and a young solar system surged around it.
"After Bertron's creation murdered his own "father" and eventually escaped the world where it was born, Raoron feared he would eventually face the same fate and took precautions about it. He ingeniously devised a simple and efficient way to keep his exquisite creation under control" The holographic sun turned red. "Red sunlight! It would trigger the nature of his creation to turn it extremely weak and dependable. And to honor his death brother, Raoron continued his work in the same world were Bertron's creature was born. The system's red star would keep them week enough to be docile and controllable, has Raoron wanted, allowing him to continue his work with some serenity.
Sarakh walked around the red star system's hologram, approaching Cindra has he spoke.
"But after his brother died, and even with all the precautions he envisioned and applied, he was still afraid... Afraid he would receive the same punishment for playing with a power he could not control, and came to a particular moment were he wanted to terminate his creation. But marvelously, his love for his creature and the hope of achieving his dream was greater than his fear. So, he hoped and waited... He watched his living weapons develop a culture; he saw how they procreated and tamed the planet. And very soon, he realized that time and wonder had turned him into more than just a creator overseeing his work, they turned him literally into a god. A god who would decide the course and the history; the life and the death of its custom made civilization called Krypton. And believe me; he enjoyed it for millennia, more than anything else before...
Sarakh turned to his brother. Dorvakh stood there, unmovable; with a proud and cold look in his eyes as his brother keep explaining.
"But sadly... All stories come to an end. The civilization he created became very advance, and although religious and social laws prohibited their citizens to leave their own solar system and thus preventing them to achieve their immense power; their probes and AI researchers quickly gave them a vast knowledge about the universe. Raoron had slaves infiltrated has they're rulers and high priests. And the practically impeccable obedience and disciplined attitude of his living weapon hold it in check. But it did not work forever. His personal slave chronicles explain that some of them became violent and rejected the laws and principles their god "Rao" gave them, becoming a danger for Raoron's custom created civilization and for the universe if they ever got loose. The slave specified that some reports informed that one particular kryptonian apparently discovered the unimaginable power that lied deep inside him. This slave always suspected that some information leaked and somehow reached him, but couldn't prove it. But the damage was done, and Raoron soon realized that he could lose control. He knew it was a matter of time, brief time, so his fears became alive again. Raoron then decided to terminate his creation and himself, incapable of dealing with the emotional weight and love he had developed for them. He detonated the system's red star, destroying everything and everyone in it."
Cindra grinned and went to drink another flower that floated nearby. "A wonderful story..." She absorbed the flower completely, enjoying every ounce of it, dramatizing the moment before the obvious question. "So where is the survivor?"
Sarakh generated a floating data symbol between his shiny claws, it glowed like fire. "Survivors, Cindra... Survivors! A whole pack from which to form an unstoppable army! The army that will kneel the universe down before us and will give me the secret of divinity."
"And how..." Cindra glanced again at the elegant images of the two humans and the impossible data that flowed endlessly beside each one "...are we going to make such powerful beings our servants? Are we just going to ask them to serve us?"
Sarakh perceived the contemptuous tone in Cindra's voice; he dint like it at all.
"Watch your sarcasm Cindra... You know my cruelty, as well as my intelligence... This pack of kryptonians survived because of an improvisation, a very lucky improvisation! According to the data we recently conquered, a technician in the surviving city was testing a new way of space travel the day their sun was detonated by Raoron. He desperately created a trans-space bubble around most of the city, and managed to drag it to the inner space were they managed to build a sheltered city and the necessary means to survive. They have been there ever sense... With no contact with the appropriated sunlight that would awake they're hidden power."
Cindra was not afraid of challenges, but if she was going to put her neck against dozens of unbelievably powerful beings, she'd better know everything. "If they are so advance how come they haven't try to return to normal space and found a colony on another planet?"
"Culture, religion and fear!" Sarakh gestured. "A very powerful combination, don't you think?"
"So that's what we were looking for... I understand the need for secrecy now, my lord. And now we are almost there?"
Sarakh approached Cindra and stood a mere inch apart from her. "We are already there! Each and every Ranam, except you..." Cindra never noticed Sarakh's second right arm moving at her left. Two clawed fingers merged together and a powerful drill shaped beam shot out from it. The liquid energy crossed through Cindra's abdomen and began disrupting her body like fire burning paper. Sarakh roared in her face.
An indescribable pain punished Cindra's body and her mind twisted like a pretzel. Her life force burned out and her marvelous strength perished. She shook and cried loud as her body vaporized without remedy.
"Why?"
"You doubted me! Cindra... And you above all should know that the doubt is the beginning of disobedience, the root of all rebellion! And besides..." He looked deep into her eyes one last time. "You choose knowledge over loyalty." And let her vanish.
Sarakh looked at his brother; Dorvakh chanted a soft prayer to honor the fallen member of the cult. After finishing his brief religious duty, he approached his brother and knelled down ceremoniously.
"Brother, the curiosity in my heart is great. I beg you to release some of it; please tell me how do you plan to control Raoron's living weapon?"
Sarakh grinned and touched a floating symbol. The room transformed again acquiring the unmistakable form of the inner chamber of the Ranam Vault. More than a vault, it was a fortress full of trophies, treasures, and countless data bases from millions of races of the known universe. Sarakh floated forwards, closely followed by his brother, to the most secured and safest place of the War Temple: the inner sphere.
The inner sphere was a two hundred yard, richly carved sphere that opened as if were made of liquid metal, allowing Sarakh and his brother to penetrate inside. Entering was like entering a living cell, but the defensive organoids didn't attack them. Sarakh and his brother reached the center with ease.
The cult's leader landed on the misty floor and walked proudly towards the core of the sphere; the ovoid safe opened like a blossoming alien flower, revealing several colored crystals floating inside liquid transparent seeds. Sarakh took the green one first.
"Raoron was a genius… That is beyond any question; and an exquisite artist as well. The green gem is the termination instrument." He put it back and took the red one. "And the red gem is the control instrument!"
"But Brother, how can a puny radioactive mineral control or terminate a living weapon as powerful as those? That makes no sense! They are practically invincible and invulnerable according to your data; a radiation capable of harming them that way, or penetrate their structures simply does not exist!"
Sarakh smiled delighted, giving the answer away before he spoke.
"You are absolutely correct! The true termination and control elements are part of the weapons itself; it is not really the mineral's radiation that does it. Its different kinds of unique radiations are input commands. The commands they generate trigger the functions inside the weapon's beings that controls it, or kills it, or..." He gestured to the other crystals, delighted. There were so many... Each one exhibiting a different color, each one with a specific function. "Produces many other interesting effects..." He grabbed the black one "We could suppress the positive emotional parameters of the weapon and turn it into a sadistic destructive being, similar to Bertron's creation." He put it back and took the purple one. "Or we could shift them out of this phase and hold them there until we need to use them..." this time Dorvakh smiled viciously. "Like carrying one in your pocket until the moment you need it?" Sarakh laughed loudly. "Yes my brother! Like having one in your pocket for quick use!" He grabbed the red one again. "Or we could just turn them into the obedient triumph weapon they were meant to become in the first place."
Sarakh's brother smiled elated and knelt proudly before his brother; his heart full of pride, admiration, fear and obedience. "You are the greatest Prophet in our entire history brother and I am your servant; let this and the known galaxies to tremble before the glory of Ranam!"
Sarakh's ego flew triumphant to the stars with that delightful praise. But...
"Still, my beloved brother, it is complicated in its own way. Even after a long time, I have barely begun to understand the control process of the red crystal. It is very difficult to master and quite elusive; if done incorrectly, the weapon's mind would produce erratic behaviors and undisciplined tendencies. We are close, yes! But we may require more time than predicted after the capture to fully submit them under my control."
"So be it! Your orders brother?"
"Ranam will go to war! Our Divine ascension is near, and when we become gods, the true life will be ours forever!" With that said he transported both back to the throne hall and sat in his floating throne "Dive the War Temple inside the inner space brother, and take us to our eternal destiny!" Sahrak throne sank into the floor, as the room started to change again. Below, a fantastically large hall composed of military structures and colossal platforms, ships, war machines and endless lines of disciplined warriors saluted Sarakh as he hovered above them.
"The time has come followers of Ranam! Now, after countless battles and endless searching we have found the power of the gods! Lets us charge and take what the universe as given to us, to the strongest!"
The endless crowd shouted mesmerized in an orchestra of thousands of different sounds and languages. Sarakh gave them a little more circus.
"You believed in me, and did well! I gave you power, to each of you, I gave you revenge, and all the pleasures you desired!"
The crowd cheered his name without pause.
"But it is nothing compared to the pleasures we will enjoy very soon, endless pleasure and power!"