Adam lay still, eyes closed, but his mind was far from the chamber.
The Scarab on his chest glowed white-hot, pulsing not in pain — but in communion.
He was somewhere else now.
Not dreaming.
Not awake.
Suspended in a vast, starless void.
Before him, ten sarcophagi floated, sealed in chains of gold and smoke.
As he approached, the chains fell away, one by one.
Then... voices.
Not spoken aloud, but resonating inside his bones:
"You have come, child of the open sky."
"We watched your people for thousands of seasons."
"And you repeated the cycle, again and again."
The lids of the sarcophagi slid open.
Inside, the ancient battalion — half god, half dust — opened their eyes.
The leader, cloaked in fractured gold, stepped forward.
His name was not spoken, but known — like thunder before the storm.
"We built the pyramids not for burial… but for return."
Images flooded Adam's vision:
The Sphinx being raised by light beams.
Cranes made of air and thought lifting stones the size of ships.
Pharaohs kneeling before the Hollow Gods, offering their thrones for protection.
"All wonders… were markers. Not monuments. The Earth was seeded as a garden — and we were the caretakers. You were meant to be harvested. Not inherited."
"The pyramids are not tombs. They are resorts. Return gates. A signal fire for the divine to reclaim the surface."
Adam stepped back, breath shaking.
"Why destroy us? Why now?"
A female warrior, her armor fused with emerald, answered:
"No other civilization survived before. The Atlans tried. The Nine Gates of Ashur failed. Even the Sumerians fell."
"You are not the first. But perhaps… the last."
Another voice — darker — added:
"You are sheep. Tended until ripe. Then cleansed."
"The hatred of man poisons the sky. The greed burns the rivers. Even your father, noble as he is, sacrificed love for curiosity."
Adam shouted:
"He didn't! He never stopped loving us. He just... didn't know how to show it."
Silence.
Then the elder warrior stepped forward again.
"You speak with heart. But heart is not enough."
"The long lives of surface dwellers rot the balance. The Earth demands a cull."
Adam's hands clenched.
"Then give us one chance. One united stand. No nations. No bombs. No hate."
"A second era."
The warriors murmured.
"It has never been done."
"It would break the rhythm."
The golden one raised a hand.
"Let us consider your plea. Return, child. And tell the waking world: the old gods are listening."
Suddenly — the Scarab flared.
Adam snapped back into his body.
Sarah gasped.
Mike caught his son before he fell.
Adam looked up.
Eyes burning with something ancient.
"They're not our enemies yet. Not all of them."
He clutched the Scarab.
"We have one chance to show them what humanity could be. Or they'll finish the purge."