In Bir Tawil, the concept of ‘seasons’ was virtually nonexistent.
This scorching desert was perpetually shrouded in suffocating heat, regardless of the time of year.
With ground temperatures averaging over 40 degrees Celsius, the land was naturally dry and stifling, akin to a furnace operating at full blast.
Even at an altitude of nearly a thousand meters, the situation offered little respite.
As the rear hatch of the Stormbird multi-role gunship hummed open, a blast of hot wind, laden with yellow sand and alkaline grit, immediately surged into the cabin.
It struck Anastasia, who stood at the front of the queue, like a rough slap.
Despite wearing her goggles and respirator mask, she felt a powerful wave of discomfort, as if hundreds of scorching needles had simultaneously pricked her cheeks.
Behind Anastasia, twenty-four ‘Saintesses,’ clad in full bio-armor, stood ready.
Their flexible yet lightweight protective suits accentuated their athletic physiques, while their faces were concealed beneath sky-blue, one-way transparent masks, making them resemble a swarm of soldier ants.
Indeed, thanks to Anastasia’s mother, these ‘Saintesses’ were even more fearless, swift, and ruthless than actual soldier ants.
“Eek—”
Just as Anastasia prepared to leap from the hatch, a common desert updraft briefly seized the Stormbird, sending it plummeting dozens of meters as abruptly as a drop tower ride at an amusement park.
The sudden sensation of weightlessness that followed elicited a small gasp from someone nearby.
“Cassandra? Are you alright?”
Anastasia sighed, casting a glance at her third younger sister.
Unlike Anastasia herself, who stood nearly two meters tall and was as robust as a female jaguar, Cassandra was slender and petite.
Despite her ID card stating she was nineteen, her height and weight were less than that of many nine-year-old girls.
Without resorting to ‘that’ power, her combined strength was no match for even one of Anastasia’s arms.
“If you’re scared, you don’t have to go.”
“No! I can’t!”
Cassandra shook her head emphatically.
“Mother is down there! I absolutely cannot miss this chance… I, I must see Mother today, I want to tell her in person…”
“Alright,” Anastasia took a deep breath, then looked at her fifth and sixth younger sisters.
These two sisters, who shared the Stormbird with her, were far from as robust as Anastasia, yet they were not as frail as Cassandra, and they, too, displayed expressions of eager anticipation.
“What about you two? Are you ready?”
“No problem,” her fifth younger sister, Persephone, nodded, her long, pale, almost translucent hair fluttering in the hot wind.
“Persephone has so many, so many new friends to introduce to Mother.”
“I’ve already prepared a song, a song specifically dedicated to Mother,” her sixth younger sister, Bifang, adjusted her azure twin ponytails, her mismatched red and blue eyes sparkling with hopeful anticipation.
“Mother will surely love my song, won’t she?”
“I believe so,” Anastasia nodded, then was the first to leap from the hatch.
“Assault initiated!”
Within five seconds of her departure, Anastasia watched as her three younger sisters and the twenty-four ‘Saintess’ assault troopers consecutively leaped from the Stormbird.
The bio-armor behind them extended and transformed, forming broad gliding wings akin to those of a flying squirrel.
Concurrently, sporadic gunfire began to erupt from the ground below.
It originated entirely from the anti-air/anti-personnel auto-turrets positioned atop the castle.
Naturally, this firepower proved extremely limited, quickly ceasing altogether.
After deploying its personnel, the Stormbird executed a sharp turn in the sky, simultaneously launching six ‘Viper’ micro-missiles from its stub-wing pylons, obliterating the two nearest turrets.
Elsewhere, the Human Revival Council’s defensive forces were either already crippled or preoccupied with engaging assault teams led by Anastasia’s other sisters, leaving them utterly unable to contend with the new aerial intruders.
With virtually no interference, the two minutes before landing felt almost tedious to Anastasia.
She gazed at the scene below, a sudden pang of reflection striking her.
Just a century prior, this very land had been among Earth’s most desolate regions, so utterly worthless that the two bordering nations—Egypt and Sudan—had vied to reject sovereignty over its two thousand square kilometers of barren desert.
Yet, ironically, this peculiar statelessness had, by the late 21st century, transformed it into a stage where numerous megacorporations could ‘freely operate’ beyond regulation.
Then, in the early 22nd century, amidst the ‘Breach’ catastrophe, it became the capital of the Human Revival Council, an entity evolved from a corporate alliance, and the political heart of this lamentable world.
Saint Thier City, an emergent metropolis nestled in the desert, sustained by water siphoned from the Red Sea and Nile River, had for the past half-century served as the power nexus of a world hurtling towards its demise.
Now, however, everything it possessed was collapsing with visible speed.
Along Herbert Boulevard, which bisected the city center, explosions, flashes of gunfire, and roiling flames erupted everywhere.
The wreckage of hover tanks, armored personnel carriers, and mobile anti-air systems lay scattered like crushed beetles, while ant-like infantry advanced amidst the debris.
Anastasia knew that while the urban combat was crucial, the most critical element remained her own assignment: the assault on Hernan Castle, located at the heart of Saint Thier City.
This castle served as the seat of the Council’s Executive Meeting, and today, her mother was supposedly within its walls, undoubtedly preparing to proudly unveil her achievements to the Council’s senior members.
She would, of course, be utterly unaware that her very achievements were about to brutally deliver a fatal blow to the Council itself.
As Anastasia retracted her gliding wings and landed atop the castle, her gaze met only the burning wreckage of defensive weapon stations and the mangled remains of what had once been defense personnel.
It seemed her ninth younger sister, Mary, had indeed faithfully executed her orders, clearing the planned landing zone with precise high-explosive bombardments.
This security, however, proved fleeting.
Upon realizing intruders had reached the castle roof, the guards who had hidden to escape the bombardment immediately surged forth from within, attempting a counterattack.
These individuals were mostly Human Revival Council security personnel, clad in grey uniforms and armed with shields, submachine guns, and automatic shotguns – hardly formidable opponents.
The first few security guards to emerge were swiftly cut down by the Saintesses’ precise crossfire, prompting the remaining ones to retreat in panicked disarray.
Anastasia offered them no such opportunity.
For the unfortunate security personnel who lagged behind, the only solace was the swiftness of their demise.
Anastasia disdained the use of firearms, instead transforming into a blur, rushing towards them with astonishing speed.
Her powerful hand-blade tore directly through their lightweight Kevlar vests, ripping apart their spines and the organs within their chest cavities.
Then, with a casual motion, she unclipped a fragmentation grenade from the waist of a security guard who was coughing up blood and lung fragments, sparing those who had run ahead the trouble of further flight.
Under her command, the assault team began to descend a spiral staircase, penetrating deep into the colossal castle.
Along the way, they repeatedly encountered scattered security personnel or automated defensive weapon stations concealed within walls and ceilings.
The latter were intricately designed, some even disguised as sculptures and light fixtures, but all proved utterly useless.
The Saintesses’ reaction speed far surpassed the time it took for these devices to deploy and fire.
Consequently, not a single weapon station managed to discharge even one round before being completely obliterated.
Genuine resistance materialized in the corridor leading to the main conference hall.
Along this hallway, adorned with a luxurious golden brocade carpet, two squads of X-Strike Team soldiers and two ‘Troll’ armed walking machines had formed a defensive phalanx, blocking their path.
These two armored walking machines boasted frontal armor capable of withstanding large-caliber armor-piercing rounds, coupled with two six-barreled heavy machine guns, sufficient to seal off the corridor with a blistering hail of fire.
Meanwhile, the X-Strike Team, clad in black armor fitted with powered exoskeletons, represented the Council’s most elite infantry units.
Every one of these soldiers was augmented with numerous neural implants and pharmaceutical enhancements, claiming a combat capability nearly ten times that of a regular security guard.
Anastasia and her sisters knew that for many years, the X-Strike Team, air-dropped by Stormbirds across the globe and deployed to countless battlefields, had been a symbol of the Council’s worldwide armed intervention capabilities.
These elite warriors, painstakingly created by the former Chief Scientific Officer, Aelion III, had demonstrated exceptional efficiency, whether combating invaders from other worlds or engaging the Council’s human adversaries.
However, one fact remained unfortunately true…
…they were precisely the individuals Anastasia’s sisters, and the Saintesses created in their image, were destined to replace.
“Let me handle this.”
Just as Anastasia prepared to act, Bifang suddenly stepped forward, taking two eager paces.
“The song I just finished preparing, before I present it to Mother, really needs some ‘feedback’ from other listeners first.
Only then can I ensure Mother hears the very best song, right?”
“Indeed,” Anastasia’s lips curved into a subtle smile.
“Go on, my dear sister.”
“As you wish.”
The defenders in the corridor, of course, offered no time for idle chatter.
Before Bifang could even finish speaking, the two Troll walking machines raised their six-barreled machine guns and began to unleash 12.7mm rounds at the intruders at a blistering rate of two thousand rounds per minute.
Incredibly, however, every single one of these rounds ‘accurately’ struck the floor and walls around Anastasia and her companions; not a single shot found its mark!
Following suit, the X-Strike Team soldiers also opened fire, but their aim proved equally dreadful.
Some shot down ceiling chandeliers, others riddled the carpet until it resembled a fishing net, and some even struck their own comrades ahead, yet none could land a single bullet on the opponents they desperately tried to repel.
“Hmph, what a bunch of spoilsports,” Persephone sneered, as several wisps of semi-transparent matter coiled and uncoiled around her fingertips.
“So many people would beg to hear my sister Bifang’s loving song, yet these fools are indifferent.
Fortunately, Persephone’s friends did a good job.
They didn’t let those guys ruin the mood.”
Then, Bifang began to sing.
The song she sang was a very, very ordinary children’s lullaby.
In times past, hundreds of millions of East Asian children had heard this gentle, slightly melancholic song about mothers during their childhoods.
Yet, upon hearing this utterly commonplace melody, the X-Strike Team soldiers, and even the Troll walking machine pilots, all collapsed into brief, agonizing convulsions.
Some screamed piercingly as they dropped their weapons, seemingly attempting to drown out the song with their own voices, but to no avail.
Others clutched their hands over their ears—but what even the noise-canceling materials inside their helmets couldn’t block, hands certainly couldn’t guard against.
Ultimately, these Council elites all curled up on the ground, blood ceaselessly flowing from their eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouths.
“Excellent! Mother will absolutely adore my song now!”
Bifang giggled like a little girl who had just received her favorite candy, pushing open the doors to the room defended by these guards.
Inside the conference room, over a dozen senior members of the Human Revival Council, along with several of their bodyguards, huddled together in terror.
Just yesterday, these individuals were top magnates who controlled the economic lifelines of most of the world, capable of deciding the fates of millions.
Now, they couldn’t even decide their own.
“Oh my, hello everyone!”
Bifang smiled sweetly, waving to the people in the room.
“Excuse me, where—is—Mo—ther?!”
“You—you devils!” an old Council member shouted.
“How did you break free of control?! Dr. Irmindada clearly designed…”
“Incorrect answer.”
Before the man could finish, Anastasia clapped her hands, his head already twisted 120 degrees backward—to her, his body seemed nothing more than a worthless piece of filth.
“Whoever gives the correct answer, we won’t kill them.”
“I—I’ll speak! Please don’t kill me!” another Council member immediately prostrated himself on the ground.
“Are you looking for Dr. Irmindada? She’s not here!”
“Not here? How is that possible? Isn’t our beloved Mother the chief guest of honor for today’s event?!”
“I don’t know! We only discovered her disappearance this morning!
Security reported that someone saw her driving away in an Azure Bird light helicopter, but she destroyed Saint Thier City’s radar equipment and turned off her transponder!”
“Then, where do you think Mother might have gone?”
“Have mercy! I truly have no idea!
Oh, wait… if we follow her departure heading, she might have gone to the Space Science Research Center!
That’s right, they were conducting an advanced spatial teleportation research project there before, perhaps she’s going to another parallel world…”
“Another parallel world? You’re not lying to me, are you?!”
“This person is telling the truth.”
Just as Anastasia was about to erupt in anger, a pale, frail girl with an anxious expression walked in.
“My abilities can confirm this.”
“Alright then, if Snow White says so, perhaps this fellow is telling the truth,” Anastasia looked at her youngest, eleventh-ranked sister, and sighed.
“What now?”
“Let me try.”
Tiny Cassandra stepped out from among the Saintesses, crouched down in the room, and began to murmur to herself.
A moment later, she took a long, deep breath.
“I… I can’t see very clearly, but I did see something… We will find Mother, though it will take some time.
Also, I saw earlier that I was with Salome at that time…”
“Alright, in that case, the task of finding Mother will be your priority.
I will continue to deal with the Council forces in this world.
As for the others… the individuals we need to deal with aren’t just confined to this world.
Everyone must make plans; we need to swiftly advance into every world where Council forces are entrenched, while the ‘Dao Gate’ in Saint Thier City is still operational… Hey, buddy, where are you going?”
“Uh… didn’t you say you wouldn’t kill us?” The Council member who had answered the question and was quietly trying to slip away jumped in fright.
“Ah, that’s right,” Anastasia smiled and nodded.
“But I didn’t say you could leave… If you’re not in a hurry, would you like to play♂ with my sister Salome?
Don’t worry, she won’t kill you.”
“Eh? Uh…” The man froze.
But when a figure with a pair of pale wings on their back appeared, he erupted in desperate screams.
“No! Gh, kill me! Quickly kill me! No—!”
Anastasia ignored him, turning and leaving the room with her other sisters.
Over the next few hours, terrifying, agonizing screams, as if from the deepest abyss of hell, continuously emanated from within… Of course, with the exception of Snow White, her sisters remained utterly indifferent.
After all, they would not be satisfied until they heard their own mother make the same sounds.