The humid air of Metro Manila shimmered in the twilight, thick with anticipation and the vibrant mingling scents of charcoal grills, roasting lechon, and the sharp tang of gunpowder. It wasn't just the familiar symphony of relentless traffic; tonight, the city pulsed with a joyous, almost feverish energy unique to this festive occasion.
Below, streets, parks, and every conceivable open space overflowed with life. Multigenerational families spilled out onto sidewalks, their tables groaning under the weight of food, with the prized, glistening lechon taking center stage. Groups of men gathered in countless family compounds, glasses of liquor in hand, their voices growing louder and more boisterous by the minute. Friends huddled together in lively clusters, faces illuminated by garish temporary stage lights and early bursts of color painting the inky sky above. Among the throngs were also foreigners, drawn by the city's infectious energy, celebrating alongside locals as their varied accents layered the soundscape. Laughter, shouts, excited screams from children, and a multitude of overlapping conversations created a happy roar that echoed between buildings. From doorways and windows, off-key warbling from karaoke machines mingled harmoniously with the thumping bass of party music, forming a uniquely Pinoy soundtrack. The pops and whistles of firecrackers added a constant percussive beat, punctuated by the sharper blasts of more ambitious fireworks lit by confident "Kuyas" in various neighborhoods. Even the sounds of drunken uncles maneuvering on motorcycles, their horns blaring a festive, albeit slightly wobbly rhythm, contributed to the inimitable charm of chaos.
Thousands of eyes were locked skyward or glued to massive LED screens erected like temporary monuments in plazas and along main thoroughfares. Others gathered around smaller televisions glowing warmly in homes and restaurants, all sharing a single, unified focus.
Across the sprawling metropolis, millions savored this collective moment, fueled by food laid out on long tables laden with holiday feasts and the thrill of shared excitement.
On the main stage before an ocean of revelers, a host's voice—already hoarse with excitement—boomed from colossal speakers, joining a chorus broadcasted from smaller stages and television sets in every district. The New Year's Eve countdown to 2020 had officially begun.
"Ten!" The unified shout erupted instantly from the main plaza, picked up by crowds from other locations, a wave of sound rolling across the city.
"Nine!" Phones and cameras were thrust higher into the air, their small lights adding to the spectacle, capturing this extraordinary moment.
"Eight!" The ground vibrated with the sheer energy of millions standing together, breathing the same humid air and sharing the same hopeful anticipation.
"Seven!" Around the edges of the crowd, impromptu dance circles formed—brief explosions of joyful movement. The distinct smells of the holiday feast mingled with the sharper tang of smoke from distant fireworks and the general haze of the city.
"Six!" Faces turned upward, eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and wonder, silhouetted against increasing flashes of light in the sky.
"Five!" Hands reached out for loved ones, ready to embrace. The weight of fresh starts, brimming with possibility, hung heavy in the air—a swell of collective optimism washing over the city.
Up in their modest apartment, life continued its own rhythm—a microcosm reflecting the city's energy. In the kitchen, Martha bustled around the spread of food laid out on the counter and draped across the table. Beads of sweat dotted her brow despite the whirring electric fan, and she gave a final check to the pansit while carefully arranging the puto. The warm air was fragrant with cooked dishes, enveloping her in a different kind of anticipation.
Across the small living area, near the open balcony door, Diego sat with a couple of friends, their voices low and relaxed as they shared stories and sipped liquor—the clinking of glasses soft against the distant roar of the city. A half-empty bottle and a plate of pulutan sat untouched between them.
But the true spectacle unfolded above. On the rooftop of the apartment building, fifteen-year-old Dan stood beside his seven-year-old sister, Bliss. A cool, refreshing breeze offered slight reprieve from the night's heat. Their faces were turned skyward, illuminated by the vibrant explosions blooming high above the city skyline. Joy radiated from their smiles, wide enough to stretch from ear to ear, reflecting pure, unadulterated happiness.
"Wow, Kuya Dan!" Bliss squealed, pointing a tiny finger at a particularly large, golden burst. "That one was SO big! Like, bigger than our building!"
Dan chuckled, tracking the shimmering trails of light as they fell back towards the city. "Almost, Bliss! Look at the colors on that one!" A rapid succession of red, blue, and green spheres erupted, painting the sky in fleeting, brilliant hues. "It's like the sky is painting itself!"
"Which one is your favorite?" Bliss hopped slightly on the balls of her feet, giddy with excitement.
Dan paused, watching another enormous firework bloom far in the distance. "Hmm... I like the really tall ones. The ones that go way, way up before they open. They look like they're touching the stars."
"Yeah! Me too!" Bliss giggled, craning her neck back as far as it could go. "Do you think the stars like the fireworks?"
"Maybe," Dan smiled, gently putting an arm around her small shoulders. Below them, the city stretched out like a twinkling carpet of lights bordered by the dark, rippling ocean. Above, the true show continued—a man-made constellation of fire and light. They watched in awe, mesmerized by the spectacle, the booming sounds reaching them like distant thunder.
"Four!" The roar of voices swelled, drowning out everything else—a powerful, unified sound of anticipation propelling the city forward.
"Three!" The atmosphere felt charged, electric with the pent-up energy of millions.
"Two!" A collective breath seemed to hang in the air, held tight across the metropolis.
"One!" The final digit floated, suspended in time—a collective inhalation poised for the cathartic explosion of a new year. The last echoes of the countdown faded, replaced by the breathless pause before an impending storm of celebration.
Then, the climactic firework that should have bloomed didn't appear. Instead, high above, a single point of swirling, impossibly vibrant light ripped through the midnight blue fabric of the sky directly above the city. This wasn't an explosion of fire and color from below; it was a tear from above—a silent vortex of alien energy that expanded rapidly, ominous and beautiful. The kaleidoscope of colors within it defied earthly physics, inducing awe and dread simultaneously.
From the heart of this breathtaking yet terrifying vortex, the Aethelred System artifact emerged—not falling like a star but descending in a silent, impossible aura of shifting rainbow colors. The ancient black cube, measuring 7x7x7 and adorned with malevolent runes pulsating with cold inner light, plummeted toward the unsuspecting planet below. It didn't crash or embed itself; instead, at the threshold of Earth's surface, it dissolved. Like dark, alien cotton candy melting into water, the artifact and its surrounding rainbow aura integrated seamlessly into the very essence of the planet, becoming one with the Earth's core without leaving a single tremor or sound of impact.
Then, midnight struck. January 1st, 2020.
And the world didn't erupt in celebration. It ceased to exist. The anticipated thunder of fireworks, the joyful cheers and screams, the blare of horns and music—all sounds were abruptly silenced, as if a sudden, violent vacuum pressed against eardrums and settled like a crushing weight on the mind. The vibrant life of Manila, moments before a symphony of impending festivity, was eclipsed by an overwhelming, terrifying silence.
Darkness followed swiftly and entirely. Streetlights lining every avenue extinguished like snuffed candles, plunging boulevards into absolute night. Dazzling LED screens flickered out, their vivid advertisements vanishing into sudden voids. The warm glow spilling from countless homes extinguished simultaneously, headlights on immobilized vehicles went dark, and every mobile device—with its screen reflecting only the sheer terror of emptiness—died. High above, where the comforting moon had stood guard, there was only an unsettling abyss. The moon was gone, a once-familiar presence now absent, joining the chilling void.
This phenomenon wasn't confined to the city; it swept across the globe. Continents plunged into simultaneous darkness. Every piece of technology—supercomputers, digital watches, mobile phones—failed completely. Communication channels collapsed, satellites journeying through space ceased their movements, their circuits gone cold. The world was suddenly blinded, silenced, and disconnected.
On the ground, amid the profound stillness and pitch-blackness, humanity itself froze. Millions were entrapped, not like statues, but living, conscious prisoners trapped within their flesh. Smiles fixed, eyes wide and unblinking, mid-step, mid-laugh, mid-embrace—each human form became a still lifes in shock. No sound escaped a single throat; movement, voice, and breath were collectively stolen. An oppressive pressure built behind every gaze—a suffocating weight of alien presence locking each individual in place.
On the rooftop, Dan and Bliss experienced the same horrifying paralysis. Dan's eager smile shifted to dawning horror, his arm frozen mid-gesture around his sister's shoulder, feeling foreign and unresponsive. His wide eyes reflected nothing but the chilling void where the moon had once shone; he couldn't even blink. Bliss's mouth stayed open, her joyful giggle interrupted forever at its beginning, her small hand pointed at a sky that transformed into an alien menace. Both felt the agonizing rigidity that turned muscle to stone, the panic screaming within them, powerless to act as anxiety festered behind their unblinking eyes. They were just two among millions trapped in this moment of impossible stasis.
Just as the terror of entrapment escalated to unbearable levels, a light flared from the oppressive blackness and silence—not just one, but millions sprang to life all at once. The streetlights sparked back on across avenues, dazzling LED screens blazed into existence, momentarily searing retinas accustomed to darkness. Warm light flooded forth from homes, restoring familiar patterns to windows. Headlights flickered back to life on cars, and with light came a cacophony of sound—the rush of urban noise returning violently. But this wasn't merely the reinstatement of normalcy; it signified the catastrophic emergence of physical laws reasserting themselves with brutal force. Tires shrieked, metal crunched as stalled vehicles collided, and the thud of previously suspended objects falling hit the ground. Cries of pain pierced the chaos, people caught mid-motion completed their falls or were struck by the resumed tumult.
Simultaneously, dormant phone screens blinked to life in millions of hands and pockets, signals restored as technology obeyed commands only the alien System could issue.
At that precise instant, mere inches from Dan and Bliss's faces, a radiant light blossomed. This was no ordinary illumination from restored streetlights; it was a soft, internal radiance coalescing into the shape of a screen. Impossibly and instantaneously, a thirty-two-inch monitor materialized in mid-air between them, glowing eerily within the now-chaotic city night. It appeared utterly transparent, yet its edges formed a faint luminous outline that pulsed softly—a beacon of wrongness cutting through the restored streetlit chaos. The air surrounding it hummed with barely perceptible energy, exuding an unnatural chill.
The unnatural stasis shattered. The breath that had been stolen returned with a ragged gasp that swept across the city, joining the sounds of calamity and returning urgency. Movement flowed back into millions of bodies, many stumbling or collapsing as their frozen positions destabilized. Dan and Bliss gasped, but their sounds morphed into raw, high-pitched terror mingling with the incoming din of crashes and distant cries for help. It was a collective cry—a visceral release from impossible stillness and the shock brought by the alien screen now visible amidst the tumultuous, disaster-stricken night. They stumbled back a half-step, arms dropping from their frozen poses as panic surged through them, their hearts hammering violently against their ribs.
Blind panic seized them. Their eyes darted from the hovering, glowing screen to the now-visible apartment door. Without exchanging words, driven by an instinctive need for safety and connection, they raced toward the door.
Scrambling across the rooftop illuminated only by distant city lights, punctuated by persistent sounds of chaos, they fumbled for the doorknob, small hands trembling.
Inside the apartment, Martha, stuck in a mid-reach for a plate, cried out as her muscles unlocked, nearly dropping the dish amidst the sudden mayhem outside. In the living area, Diego's glass clattered against the table as he and his friends were suddenly released from their unnatural freeze, jolted back into the world by the return of light, sound, and cataclysmic physics. Disoriented and heart racing, Martha felt her primal instincts take over—her thoughts screamed the children!
"Dan! Bliss!" she cried out, her voice quivering as she navigated the rekindled kitchen, the sounds of distant sirens rivaling the thumping of her heart.
"Anak! Where are you?!" Diego's voice rang out, thick with shock and dread, echoing in the newfound chaos outside. They didn't need to search long—the moment the rooftop door burst open, two small, terrified figures hurled through.
"Mama! Papa!" Dan and Bliss shouted in unison, their screams dissolving into muffled sobs as they collided with their parents amidst the tumultuous light flooding the living room. Martha dropped the plate entirely this time, wrapping her arms around her children as Diego joined the embrace, holding them tightly against him.
They huddled together, a single trembling unit amidst the overwhelming restore of sound, light, and chaotic consequence. Above them, the strange glowing screen hovered alone on the rooftop, now clearly visible against the backdrop of a functional yet damaged city. The world had reverted to 'normal' in the most terrifying manner imaginable—with the ability to recoil into movement and feel, shadowed by an impending sense of the utterly unknown beyond the very presence of the system that had just demonstrated its absolute authority.
Then, slicing through the cacophony of returning reality, a new sound resonated directly within their skulls. It was a voice—robotic and cold, undeniably synthetic yet distinctly female. It possessed a chillingly flat, clinical tone bereft of any warmth or inflection. This voice didn't boom or echo; it permeated everywhere at once, impossible to pinpoint, impossible to ignore.
In an act defying comprehension, the voice spoke in their language. Flawlessly, unnervingly calm Tagalog echoed in the apartment, reverberating simultaneously in English in New York, Mandarin in Shanghai, Spanish in Mexico City, Swahili in Nairobi—every language spoken globally, broadcasting into every ear, drowning out the rising tide of panic and chaos.
Concurrent with this eerie voice, visible through the open balcony door, the luminous screen flared slightly, its impossible light effortlessly cutting through the restored streetlights. Across its glowing surface, stark, alien text materialized.
In simple, chillingly clear letters, the message read:
**WELCOME TO AETHELRED SYSTEM.**
The words hung in the air—a mirror to the glowing screen hovering above. The robotic voice fell silent, lingering in an unsettling global echo. In their apartment, the family held each other tightly, the initial terror morphing into a deep, cold dread for the unknown future. What was this System? What did it want from them?
The answer—or perhaps just the next phase—came quickly. The text on the rooftop screen shimmered and dissolved. With immaculate timing, the synthetic voice cut through the frenzied environment once more, speaking globally in every tongue.
"INITIALIZING."
As the dispassionate command reverberated throughout the space, the stark word INITIALIZING bloomed across the transparent screen, glowing with that same enigmatic light. It served as a digital pronouncement of colossal, alien preparations underway, wholly unimpressed by the human panic it incited.
A brief, tense pause followed this declaration, the word hanging heavy with the weight of unseen processes. The family, huddled together, could only stare at the radiant word, minds racing to grasp its meaning amid lingering shock and the renewed noise of the city outside.
Then, without hesitation, the voice spoke again, the text on the screen shifting instantaneously to match the new command.
"BONDING."
**BONDING.** The third word appeared, simple yet stark, delivered by that same omnipresent robotic voice. It resonated not just throughout the air, but somehow within each listener's very essence.
With the utterance of the word "BONDING," a new layer of reality settled over the chaos of the restored city. The voice pronounced one last time, accompanying text flaring beneath the word 'BONDING' on the screen:
**"COMPLETE!"**
**COMPLETE.** The word loomed in finality. Concurrent with that final proclamation, a profoundly bizarre sensation began to stir within them, and presumably within everyone else across the globe. It wasn't a physical touch from the outside, but an internal thrumming—an invasive vibration originating deep within their very beings as the Aethelred System established its roots and connectivity. This sensation surged with an icy cold, settling into their bones, accompanied by a dreadful clarity that bypassed conscious thought, confirming the violation.
The feeling intensified, evolving from a subtle hum to a distinct frequency vibrating beneath their skin. It resembled energy flowing through them, cool and foreign, intertwined with an uncomfortable clarity and a growing pressure behind their eyes. Every cell in their bodies began resonating with an alien rhythm, a connection that was unwelcome and unstoppable, unfathomable in nature. This was the System not just making its presence known but embedding itself within the fundamental fabric of humanity—the process of Bonding firmly initiated and declared finished.
The Bonding process now complete, a pervasive internal thrumming persisted—a constant, low-frequency echo interwoven into their very beings. Outside their apartment walls, the city seemed physically restored: lights blazing, sounds flooding back—a tableau of false normalcy overshadowed by the fresh sounds of disaster and distant sirens. Yet, this was a normalcy tainted—a world irrevocably altered. The hovering screen on the rooftop pulsed softly, the only glaringly alien element in a realm that now felt intrinsically wrong. Its light glimmered in a growing pool of water on the damaged rooftop, likely from a burst pipe—a silent, eerie mirror to the invading presence. The moon remained obliterated, replaced by the uncanny void where the anomaly had torn the skies—a haunting scar across the returned heavens. The vibrant hope that had surged moments before the countdown was extinguished, ushering in a suffocating dread. The Aethelred System was not merely present on Earth; it had forged a partnership within it, integrating itself inseparably within humanity. The invisible tendrils of control took root, and with that, the age of mortal freedom ended, giving way to a harrowing era of cosmic subjugation. The System lay embedded and ready—the groundwork for an insidious harvest was complete, setting the stage for the Council's next horrifying phase.