One of the Zavons leaned in closer, his cold, dark eyes studying Ampelius with unsettling intensity. The creature's pale face was illuminated by the flickering light, casting eerie shadows across its sharp features. Ampelius could hear his own shallow breathing echoing in the oppressive silence that filled the room. The second Zavon reached out, placing a cold hand on his chest, sending a chill through his body.

  "Where... am I?" Ampelius finally managed to rasp, his throat raw and dry.

  The first Zavon turned its head slightly as if acknowledging the question, but it didn’t respond immediately. Instead, it produced a small, metallic device from its belt and placed it near Ampelius’s temple. A sudden jolt of energy surged through him, making his muscles tense involuntarily. His vision flickered, and for a brief moment, he saw flashes of memories—fragments of battlefields, faces, and moments he couldn’t quite grasp.

  "You are where you need to be," the Zavon finally answered in a cold, emotionless tone. "Your body and mind are valuable."

  Ampelius fought to stay conscious, his body aching as the effects of the device seemed to pull him deeper into confusion. "What... what are you doing to me?" he gasped, his vision narrowing as the room seemed to spin.

  "You are being prepared," the second Zavon spoke for the first time, its voice low and hollow, as if coming from a distance. "For what comes next."

  Before Ampelius could respond, the lights in the room dimmed even further, leaving only a faint, eerie glow around the edges. He felt a sudden pressure against his temples, like invisible hands pushing into his mind. Pain shot through his skull, and his vision went black. He tried to scream, but no sound came out, his voice trapped by the weight of whatever the Zavons were doing to him.

  Time seemed to stretch and distort. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes like hours. In his fading consciousness, he caught glimpses of something far more horrifying than the physical pain—visions of Zavon ships in the sky, cities reduced to ruins, and legions of humans standing lifeless, controlled like puppets by their new alien overlords.

  Just as Ampelius was on the verge of complete collapse, the pressure in his head suddenly ceased. His body went limp, and he gasped for breath, blinking against the harshness of the dim light. The Zavons were no longer standing over him. He was alone in the room, still strapped to the table, trembling from the remnants of the pain.

  Forcing his mind to focus, he managed to whisper, "I... won't let them win."

  Summoning what little strength he had left, Ampelius strained against the restraints, trying to free himself. His wrists burned as the metal bit into his skin, but he refused to give up.

  Ampelius's breath caught in his throat at the mention of "Solar Replay." The words echoed in his mind, striking a chord of deep unease. He had heard that term before—vaguely, like a distant memory, but it had never meant anything to him, until now.

  "What do you mean, Solar Replay?" he demanded, his voice cracking with fear and confusion.

  The Zavons remained silent, their gaze unwavering as the computerized voice continued. "Your memories, your experiences, are not your own. They have been recorded, analyzed, and stored by this technology, a remnant from an ancient race far beyond your comprehension. Solar Replay is the method by which we extract and replay key moments of existence, preserving data to guide the future."

  Ampelius's heart pounded as the voice spoke. "What are you talking about? My memories are mine!" he yelled, struggling harder against his restraints, panic setting in.

  "Incorrect," the voice replied, its tone unyielding. "Your memories are a tool. You are part of a much larger cycle designed to witness, experience, and fail. You and countless others before you have served as participants in the Solar Replay experiment."

  The weight of the revelation hit Ampelius like a freight train. His memories—the moments that had shaped him, his choices, his emotions—they weren’t real? They had been manipulated, recorded, and used as data for something beyond his understanding.

  "Solar Replay," the voice repeated, "is the process by which you relive your life over and over, each time with slight variations, each time unaware of the loop you are trapped in. Your actions are a means to gather data on the human condition in varying scenarios of failure, survival, and resistance."

  Ampelius's thoughts spiraled as the implications sank in. His entire life, was it all a simulation, a series of replays designed for some alien purpose? The people he loved, the battles he fought, even his most private moments, they had all been part of this experiment?

  He stared at the screen, where his memories had been paraded before him, his face twisted with fury and disbelief. "No… no! I’m not some puppet in your twisted game!" he roared, fighting with everything he had against the restraints.

  The Zavons didn't flinch. Their cold, detached presence only enraged him further.

  "Why me? Why us?" he demanded, his voice raw with emotion.

  "You are not unique," the computerized voice replied. "You are one of many. This experiment spans worlds, species, and eras. Each life lived is another iteration in the cycle of discovery."

  Ampelius's breath came in ragged gasps. "This can't be real… I can't be just a cog in your machine!" he yelled, feeling the desperation rising like bile in his throat.

  The screen flickered again, this time showing a replay of Ampelius's memories, but distorted and fragmented. Scenes of destruction played out before him, but they were no longer just abstract chaos, they were his memories, replayed like a nightmare. He saw cities crumbling under the weight of war, streets torn apart by fire and explosions, and familiar faces running in terror. The screen flashed to planets decimated by conflict, worlds Ampelius had never even been to, yet somehow they felt eerily connected to him.

  The images shifted again, focusing on a group of Neanderthal-like beings—Zavons—huddled in the shadows of towering structures. Their once-proud forms were now grotesque, their bodies twisted and disfigured by years of experimentation. Ampelius watched as the Zavons were strapped to tables and injected with foreign substances by figures in advanced suits, their screams of pain echoing through the cold, sterile labs. It was a replay of the horrors they had endured, a cruel experiment at the hands of a technologically superior civilization that saw them as little more than test subjects.

  The memories sped up, showing the Zavons' transformation—no longer the Neanderthals they once were but something far more dangerous. The experiments had changed them, turned them into something monstrous. Their faces remained expressionless, yet their eyes gleamed with intelligence and suffering. Ampelius could feel their pain, as if it had been imprinted onto him. These weren’t just his memories; they were theirs, too. He saw the endless cycles of death and rebirth as they were forced into battle, again and again, reliving the same torment.The Zavons' control over these worlds wasn’t one of dominion by choice, but one of survival, each cycle a forced replay of their existence, manipulated by the very beings who had turned them into weapons. And now, Ampelius was part of it, another cog in the ever-turning machine of suffering.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  His breath caught as the screen zoomed in on a memory that wasn’t his own—Zavons breaking free from their restraints, their raw fury unleashed upon their captors. The advanced civilization had underestimated them, and now the Zavons were in control of their own nightmare, perpetuating the very cycle of destruction that had been forced upon them. Ampelius's stomach churned as he realized the truth. The Zavons weren’t the creators of this endless death and destruction, they were the victims, twisted into tormentors by a power far beyond either of their control.

  The voice returned, cold and detached. "You and the Zavons are bound by this cycle, Ampelius. Every memory, every choice, every moment of pain, you share it. You are both victims and instruments."

  Ampelius's body tensed as he understood the full scope of what he was witnessing. He wasn't just trapped in a loop of his own existence; he was reliving the Zavons' agony, their endless fight for freedom twisted into a perpetual cycle of violence.

  "Break the cycle, Ampelius," the voice whispered as the screen flickered once more, showing his face reflected in the shattered fragments of his own memory.

  "Accept your place in the cycle, Ampelius," the voice intoned. "Resistance is futile. This is your purpose."

  "No!" Ampelius bellowed, his voice a mixture of rage and terror. "I will break this cycle! I will stop you!"

  The Zavons exchanged a brief glance, as though mildly amused by his outburst. One of them moved toward a lever on the control panel and, without a word, pulled it down.

  Suddenly, the restraints tightened around Ampelius's wrists and ankles, and an intense buzzing sensation filled his skull. His vision blurred, and the room seemed to tilt and spin around him. The last thing he saw before darkness overtook him was the cold, indifferent faces of the Zavons as the world faded to black. The voice echoed in the distance.

  "Begin the next cycle."

  The object flew in an arc, landed on the ground, and lit up in various colors before shooting up to hover over Ampelius. It scanned him from head to toe, emitting a series of beeps before speaking again.

  "Apologies for the reboot. Anyway, my scan indicates that you speak English, not Latin?"

  Ampelius stared at the floating cube in disbelief. When it started to speak in Latin, he managed to croak out, "English."

  "I was correct," the voice continued. "You speak English. You must have many questions. Do you want to know why you're strapped to this table? Let me introduce myself. I am A.A.I. Unit 001, but you may call me Casper. I have been assigned to you as a personal translator and servant, a complimentary gift from the Asventi to their chosen one."

  "Chosen one? What the hell are you talking about? And what are you?" Ampelius demanded, still trying to piece together the disjointed images in his mind.

  Casper spun slowly in mid-air, lights shifting colors.

  "I am an artificially intelligent machine," Casper replied. "I was created and programmed by the Asventi over a millennium ago. In fact, I am the first A.A.I. unit ever designed. I was a prototype, but most units built after me have a single purpose:translator, diplomat, servant, police, military, and so on. I am a multi-purpose unit. I also have the unique ability to shapeshift, which is why I presented myself as this cube."

  Before Ampelius could respond, Casper morphed into a pigeon and flapped around the room.

  "I can also poop like a real pigeon. Want to see?"

  "Uh, no."

  "Oh, don't like pigeons? How about a miniature giraffe?" Casper leaped off the table, transforming into a small giraffe that leaned down to lick Ampelius's face with its long neck.

  Ampelius, exhausted, snapped. "Why are you licking me? Okay, you know what? I get it. You can shapeshift. What do the Asventi want with me?"

  "It's pronounced As-ven-ti," Casper corrected, transforming back into its cube form. "And they have chosen you for a special purpose."

  "What do they want?" Ampelius demanded, struggling against his restraints. His hands ached from the tightness of the bonds.

  The earplugs were removed, and the echo of his own breathing filled the room. Casper hovered closer, glowing faintly.

  "They have designated you as the chosen one due to your qualities, physique, intelligence, and personal history. The Asventi wish to uplift your species into their sphere of influence and to do that; they want to conduct an experimental test. If successful, you will lead the way to integrate your civilization into their galactic society."

  "And if I don't want to be a test subject?" Ampelius's voice cracked, trying to understand how his life had spiraled so far out of control.

  "Unfortunately, Protocol Zen is already in effect," Casper replied, his tone shifting to something almost apologetic.

  "What's Protocol Zen?"

  A brief flash of a holographic image emerged from Casper, showing a galaxy torn asunder and worlds being devoured.

  "The Asventi are engaged in a brutal and devastating war against an enemy from another galaxy. This enemy is relentless, known for annihilating entire galaxies, and will stop at nothing until this galaxy is purged of all life. With Protocol Zen, the Asventi is uplifting all known civilizations across this galaxy and indoctrinating select individuals as part of their recruitment effort."

  Ampelius’s mind spun. The weight of intergalactic warfare and humanity’s fragile position hit him with sudden clarity.

  "And why are you destroying our cities and killing our people?" Ampelius asked, trying to suppress his growing anger.

  Casper dimmed slightly as if in response to the question.

  "Under Protocol Zen, certain civilizations were chosen for experimental testing, primarily military. This planet was selected because of its large population and another factor—the Zavons."

  Ampelius stared at the AI. "Zavons? They're from this planet?" His shock grew as he tried to piece together everything he had been told about the invading creatures.

  "Yes," Casper confirmed. "The Zavons were once Neanderthals, nearly wiped out by your species tens of thousands of years ago. The Asventi saw potential in them and decided to extract and experiment on them. The experiments created a hybrid species, but they could not reproduce, dooming them to extinction. To preserve them, the Asventi placed them in cryopreservation within volcanoes on Earth, waiting for the right moment to reawaken them."

  "So, they've been hiding in volcanoes all this time?"

  Casper floated back slightly, casting a flickering light on the ceiling.

  "Correct. The Zavons were meant to be weaponized super-soldiers, expendable in battle, but the experiment failed. However, the Asventi decided to test them in combat against your species to determine their effectiveness."

  "And what is my role in this experiment?" Ampelius asked, dread creeping into his voice as a pit formed in his stomach.

  The cube dimmed further, almost as if Casper was hesitating.

  "Tests will be conducted to verify your compatibility with the Asventi's plans. If successful, you'll be indoctrinated and return to Earth as their agent. Your tasks will include assassinating key leaders, sabotaging technologies and infrastructure, and dismantling the Roman Empire to pave the way for Asventi control."

  "I don't have a choice, do I?" Ampelius whispered. "What happens to me afterward?"

  Casper hovered close, the tension in the room almost palpable.

  "You will complete your tasks, with my assistance. If successful, you will retire in luxury, one of the richest and most powerful individuals of your species. You may even rule the world, albeit as a puppet of the Asventi."

  Ampelius felt a lump in his throat. This was worse than anything he could have imagined.

  "What about Bella and Emmett? Are they safe?"

  "Bella is alive and receiving treatment, but I cannot disclose her location. Emmett's status is currently unknown," Casper replied with cold detachment.

  "Unknown? What do you mean, unknown? What happened to him?" Ampelius's voice grew louder with panic.

  A sharp buzz filled the room, and Casper’s lights flickered.

  "I have no more time to explain. The procedure must begin now. Relax, and I’ll see you on the other side."

  Two Zavons stepped forward, their massive forms looming over Ampelius as they pinned him to the table. He screamed, thrashing against the restraints, but their grip was too strong. But then a third Zavon entered the room, holding a needle. It jabbed the needle into his arm, and Ampelius felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of relief, followed by crushing fatigue. He fought to stay awake, but the drug was too powerful. His vision blurred, and his thoughts slowed until he finally succumbed to the darkness.The last thing he heard was Casper’s voice, eerily soothing, echoing in his fading consciousness.

  "Welcome to your new life, chosen one."

  Ampelius’s body was wheeled out of the dimly lit room and into a bright, sterile chamber. As his eyes fluttered open one last time, he caught a glimpse of the ceiling lights reflecting off a mirror-like surface. A glowing yellow ring formed around his pupils as the transformation began. In the distance, Casper's voice echoed softly, "The future of your world now rests in your hands."

  As the light faded from his eyes, the last remnants of Ampelius's former life slipped away, replaced by the cold, calculated purpose the Asventi had chosen for him.