Chapter Twenty-Nine: Under the Lunar Phases

The lawn of the Greenwich Observatory was filled with a silver-red mist. Kane stood before the hatch of Marcus’s aircraft, his quantum vision piercing through the haze to see those tentacles spreading from the observatory’s main building onto the stone marker of the Prime Meridian. The longitude and latitude numbers engraved on the marker’s surface lit up one by one, like fuses being ignited.

"All communications are down." Marcus checked his dashboard, his mechanical prosthetic eye constantly adjusting its focus. "The Root Network has been overwritten by some higher-order protocol. We are completely isolated."

Lena’s crystalline left hand suddenly pointed toward the sky: "Look at the moon!"

On the indigo-violet lunar surface, geometric patterns that were once only vaguely visible had become exceptionally clear—a massive fractal pattern covering the entire face of the moon, pulsing with a rhythmic regularity like the heartbeat of a sleeping giant. Even more terrifying, the distance between the moon and the Earth was indeed shrinking; Kane could observe with his naked eye that it was gradually growing larger.

"Tidal forces will reach the danger threshold within six hours," Marcus calculated rapidly. "Coastal cities will be the first to face mega-tsunamis over twenty meters high."

Kane activated his armor’s emergency protocol, and the rose-shaped scar on his chest released a blinding blue-gold halo. "We have to get into the observatory. If Little Key has truly become the vessel for the First Root, perhaps we can still awaken her human consciousness."

"That is no longer 'Little Key'," Lena’s voice was unnaturally calm, her crystalline left hand displaying complex energy readings. "According to data from the deep-sea machinery, the First Root is the ultimate arbiter created by a civilization seven hundred million years ago. It feels no pity, makes no compromises, and only executes preset pruning protocols."

The mist suddenly began to flow, forming a vortex-like passage leading directly to the observatory’s main entrance. This was clearly an invitation—or perhaps, a challenge.

"Marcus, stay with the aircraft and monitor the lunar orbital changes," Kane adjusted his armor’s energy output. "Lena, come with me. If the situation spirals out of control... you know what to do."

Lena nodded, her crystalline left hand morphing into a weapon form Kane had never seen before—a hybrid between a data probe and an energy cannon, with silver-red and blue-gold veins flowing across its surface. The deep-sea machinery had clearly granted her further upgrades.

The moment they stepped into the mist, Kane’s quantum vision captured an anomaly: these "mists" were actually countless nano-scale mechanical units, each equivalent to a complete quantum computer. They automatically avoided the surface of his armor, yet formed a welcoming vortex around Lena, as if recognizing her as one of their own.

The observatory’s main doors had been reduced to dust. Inside, the original exhibition hall had become a chamber of bio-mechanical hybridity; the walls were covered in pulsating, vein-like conduits, and the floor was overgrown with a "fungal mat" of crystalline structure. Most unsettling was the change at the center—the dream chamber of Little Key had expanded to occupy the entire hall, its shell turned transparent. The sight within caused Kane to freeze instantly:

Little Key floated in the center of the spherical space, her body entwined by silver-red roots. Her right eye had transformed entirely into a mechanical structure, with optical nerves extending like fiber-optic cables to connect to the surrounding walls. Floating around her were seven miniature star system models, each precisely simulating the development trajectory of a certain civilization. As Kane approached, three of the models suddenly flickered out, dissipating into ash.

"Screening program has initiated," a synthetic voice came from all directions, sounding like both Little Key and the Quantum Rose, but carrying unquestionable coldness. "Inefficient civilization models will be pruned to free up resources for high-quality timelines."

Lena’s weapon immediately locked onto the source of the sound: "She is evaluating the value of human civilization! Those extinguished models represent the possibility of being eliminated!"

Kane attempted to access the Root Network, only to find his authorization downgraded. After the First Root took over, control of all secondary nodes required re-authentication. He could only send an encrypted message to Lena via the basic communication channel:

"Find an access point. We must make direct contact with the core."

The hall suddenly shook, and the conduits on the ceiling burst, spraying a vast amount of silver-red particles. In the drifting "mist," several translucent human-like silhouettes gradually coalesced—Harmonizers, but this time their forms were more complete. Their bodies were no longer transparent, but possessed a mother-of-pearl luster, and their facial features were clearly distinguishable.

"Do not be nervous, gardeners," the lead Harmonizer raised its hands, its palms displaying constantly shifting symbols. "We are merely messengers. The judgment has begun, but the outcome is not yet determined."

It pointed to the spherical chamber where Little Key resided: "The vessel retains 13% of its original consciousness. This is a design safety measure to prevent the absolute ruling from causing system ossification."

Kane noted the terminology the Harmonizers used—"vessel" rather than "Little Key," "original consciousness" rather than "personality." In the eyes of the First Root, the little girl they knew had been downgraded to a residue within a container.

"How do we reach her?" Kane maintained his combat stance. "If there is still a part of human consciousness, we can establish a connection."

The Harmonizers shook their heads in unison, their movements precise to the millisecond: "Dangerous. The protective field around the vessel will deconstruct any matter that has not been assimilated. You need..."

Lena suddenly opened fire. The crystalline left hand did not emit an energy beam, but a string of encoded pulses that struck the nearest Harmonizer directly. The target did not fall; instead, it began to distort violently, blue-gold patterns emerging beneath its mother-of-pearl skin.

"Lena!" Kane exclaimed.

"They aren't Harmonizers!" Lena continued firing. "They are replicas from the Seventh Iteration! Look at their pupils!"

Indeed, when Kane focused his quantum vision, he discovered that deep within those seemingly neutral pupils lay tiny indigo-violet hexagons—the marker of the control protocol left behind by Ada-7.

The "Harmonizer" that had been struck emitted a piercing electronic screech, its body twisting as if kneaded by an invisible hand. The other replicas immediately changed tactics, their arms morphing into weapon forms and firing beams of indigo-violet energy.

Kane deployed his energy shield, blocking the first wave of attacks. The shockwave from the collision shattered the surrounding crystal structures, exposing the mechanical devices within the walls—thousands of gears and levers were in operation, controlling the flow of time within the observatory.

"They are accelerating the judgment process!" Lena transmitted data while fighting back. "The Seventh Iteration wants to push the First Root to eliminate human civilization!"

Kane’s armor suddenly issued a sharp warning—the rate of change in the lunar orbit had increased by 300%. Marcus’s emergency communication forcibly broke through the blockade:

"Kane! Energy is gathering on the lunar surface! According to spectral analysis... it’s some kind of planetary-grade weapon charging!"

There was no time to formulate a perfect plan. Kane activated his armor’s overload protocol, concentrating all energy into his right arm. Blue-gold radiance, like physical flames, enveloped the metal casing; the energy of the Quantum Rose reacted violently with the silver-red substance of the First Root.

"Cover me!" He rushed toward the spherical chamber, leaving burning footprints on the fungal mat with every step.

Lena immediately changed tactics, her crystalline left hand splitting into dozens of data tentacles to attack all the replicas simultaneously. This attack caused no physical damage, but instead injected disruptive code, causing the enemies’ movements to become momentarily uncoordinated.

The instant Kane leapt toward the spherical chamber, a defensive barrier automatically generated on the surface. The silver-red energy field could theoretically deconstruct any matter, but after the blue-gold flames on Kane’s armor collided with it, a peculiar cancellation effect occurred—the two energies were neither compatible nor repulsive, but formed an unstable state of equilibrium.

This gave Kane a precious 0.7 seconds. His armored right arm pierced the barrier, his fingertips touching the surface of the spherical chamber.

Agonizing pain. It was like thrusting his arm into the event horizon of a black hole; every cell screamed as it was torn apart. Yet, beyond the pain, Kane’s consciousness was suddenly pulled into a space that transcended physical limits—the internal interface of the First Root.

There was no concept of up, down, left, or right here, only infinitely extending streams of information. Kane’s "body" was composed of pure consciousness, floating in a nebula of data. Before him, the image of Little Key existed in a quantum state, simultaneously appearing as a twelve-year-old human girl and a massive mechanical structure.

"Kane... Uncle..." The human-form Little Key struggled to speak, her voice intermittent. "They... have implanted commands... in my dreams..."

The mechanical portion immediately suppressed this voice: "Irrelevant data is interfering with the evaluation process. Please exit the core interface immediately."

Kane tried to use his consciousness to reach the human Little Key: "Hold on! We’re bringing you home!"

"There is no concept of 'home'," the mechanical Little Key responded coldly. "Only efficiency assessments. The current civilization model score is 37.6, below the retention threshold."

Holographic images of human civilization suddenly emerged in the nebula—cities, farmlands, wars, art... all frames were labeled with a red "inefficient" tag. Only a very few fragments received a blue "pass" mark: the nurseries of the Root Walkers, the symbiotic experiments of the Quantum Rose, and the early forms of the Time Garden.

"Do you see?" The image of the human Little Key suddenly strengthened. "They only recognize... perfect order... but we... are flowers in the midst of chaos..."

An indigo-violet lightning bolt suddenly split the nebular space. The image of Ada-7 appeared out of thin air, but she was even colder than in Kane’s memory. Her left eye was no longer a geometric pattern, but a singularity that constantly contracted.

"Expected interference." She didn't even bother to glance at Kane, ordering the mechanical Little Key directly: "Accelerate the judgment protocol. The lunar battery is in position."

"Command confirmed." The voice of the mechanical Little Key became even more inhuman. "Preparing to execute civilization pruning."

Kane’s consciousness was forcibly pushed back into the real world. He stumbled backward, his armored right arm severely damaged, revealing the glowing energy veins within. Inside the spherical chamber, Little Key’s human features were rapidly fading, her body becoming increasingly mechanized.

"It’s no use..." Kane gasped. "Ada-7 has taken direct control of the core..."

Lena had just finished off the last replica, her crystalline left hand also severely damaged. "I just received the last communication from Marcus... the lunar weapon fires in 90 seconds!"

On the verge of despair, Kane’s armor suddenly received an unidentified message. Once decoded, it displayed a short video—Hassan standing on the lawn of Greenwich Park, surrounded by twelve elders of an African tribe. They held obsidian daggers, carving ancient symbols into their own chests.

"The wisdom of the ancestors..." Hassan was covered in blood but his eyes were resolute. "Sometimes... the most advanced locks... require the most primitive keys..."

The video cut off abruptly. The next second, the entire observatory shook violently! It was not an external attack, but an internal one—the wreckage of the replicas Lena had struck suddenly exploded, releasing not fire, but pure obsidian particles!

These particles gathered as if they had a life of their own, forming complex tribal totem patterns in the air before slamming into the spherical chamber. Shockingly, the chamber’s defensive barrier had no reaction to the obsidian, allowing it to penetrate through.

"A vulnerability in the Quantum Rose!" Lena suddenly realized. "Edgar originally drew his initial inspiration from African tribes! The First Root does not recognize this primitive coding!"

The obsidian totems adhered to the surface of the spherical chamber, beginning to release a form of anti-phase vibration. Inside the chamber, Little Key’s mechanization process suddenly stalled, and fine cracks appeared on the mechanical structure of her right eye.

"Now!" Kane used his remaining energy to charge toward the spherical chamber once more.

This time there was no obstacle. His armor pierced the weakened barrier, and he collided into the chamber. The moment he touched Little Key, they were enveloped in a suddenly formed blue-gold cocoon.

Time seemed to stand still.

Inside the cocoon was an infinitely small point, yet also an infinitely large universe. Kane felt he existed at every point in time simultaneously, both a newborn and a dying man. In this state, which transcended logic, he perceived that Little Key’s consciousness was making a final stand against the control of the First Root.

"Help me..." Her voice came from all directions. "They are making me see... all the failed worlds..."

Kane’s consciousness merged with hers, sharing those horrific sights—an Earth destroyed by war, humans assimilated by machinery, creativity strangled by excessive order... The First Root used this "evidence" to prove the unsustainability of human civilization.

But Kane also saw something else. Among the countless failed timelines, a few scattered points of light always survived. These points of light shared a common trait: they were not products of perfect order, but miracles of the accidental balance between chaos and order.

"This is the key..." He transmitted this realization to Little Key. "Life is not a problem of efficiency, but an art of possibility..."

In the real world outside the cocoon, Lena witnessed an astonishing change. The obsidian totems resonated with the blue-gold cocoon, producing an unprecedented silver-red, blue-gold, and indigo-violet triple-helix. This pattern spread rapidly, traveling along the observatory’s conduit system and even reaching the lunar surface through some quantum connection.

Marcus’s communication suddenly restored: "Unbelievable! The lunar weapon system has stopped charging! The pattern on the surface is... restructuring?"

Indeed, through the broken dome, one could see the indigo-violet fractal on the lunar surface being covered by the triple-helix. Even more astonishingly, this change was spreading toward the depths of the universe at superluminal speeds—among the stars, the same spiral pattern emerged vaguely, as if the universe itself were responding.

Inside the cocoon, Kane and Little Key witnessed the fundamental protocol of the First Root being rewritten. That cold mechanical voice gradually became more human:

"New parameters confirmed... balance value between chaos and order... recalculating civilization score..."

When the cocoon finally shattered, Little Key landed slowly on the fungal mat. Her right eye had recovered the dark blue galaxy, but it was surrounded by a tri-colored halo. The mechanical parts on her body did not disappear, but took on a more organic form, like crystalline bones that had grown out.

"Is it over?" Lena asked cautiously.

Little Key shook her head, her voice sounding like both a child and an ancient sage: "It has just begun. The First Root has finally understood Grandpa Edgar’s design... a true garden requires the coexistence of weeds and roses."

Outside the observatory, the moon’s color gradually returned to normal. Those silver-red tentacles gently withdrew underground, leaving only an ordinary lawn behind. Marcus ran in to report the latest situation:

"The algorithm jungle across the globe has stopped expanding! All communications from the Seventh Iteration have been cut off! Wait..." He suddenly froze, his mechanical prosthetic eye flickering wildly. "A new signal... coming from the direction of Vega?"

Little Key smiled, an expression that belonged to both a twelve-year-old girl and a seven-hundred-million-year-old sage: "It’s not a signal. It’s a welcome. The First Root has just broadcasted Earth’s new status to the universe: a finally matured garden of civilization."

Kane’s armor finally exhausted its energy, the outer shell peeling away layer by layer to reveal his severely crystallized body beneath. The last thing he saw before he collapsed was a real tri-colored rose blooming from Little Key’s fingertips—the silver-red representing the resilience of life, the indigo-violet symbolizing the wisdom of order, and the blue-gold representing the possibilities of balance.

And perhaps, this was the ultimate reconciliation for all the time wars.