Instantly, the Magical Tool materialized in my palm; it was in the form of a ring.
Without hesitation, I pictured the blueprint of a futuristic drone that moves and changes like a bird that is in the air. The Magical Tool was transformed by my command, conforming to the visual I had imagined. So it went its way.
The device changed its shape, its surface flowing as if it were molten.
First, the wings were revealed—the wings, scar, and talons of a bird of prey were reminiscent of the creature, but made of a different, lighter, and stronger material.
Maybe a composite or some alloy without a name I had.
The torso was lengthening and its diameter was decreasing until it was a sleek fuselage, but it was not reflecting the light; rather, it was absorbing it. A stealth design.
The tail got stable, and it was now two separated vertical fins, both had small lights that were flickering—sensors, embedded.
On the other hand, a remote came into view, a small screen lit up, its interface was as clear and simple as if it were always with me.
The drone was making a soft, low, and almost inaudible humming that suggested it was in standby mode.
I simply ignored the humming and went on with my work.
I quickly launched it into the air with just one motion of my wrist.
The drone was propelled forward just like a bullet from a gun.
No, even faster.
Mid-flight, it adjusted its wings, angling for optimal aerodynamics, and then it was gone—a black line against the blue, its speed insane.
The remote screen was updating in real-time, a meter that was showing numbers that made my jaw drop:
MACH 1.2.
MACH 1.5.
MACH 1.8.
It was not only super-fast but also faster than sound, an unseen hunter that was slicing the air.
On the remote, the drone's cameras were zooming, focusing, and they were targeting that place.
The helicopter was still far away, a small dark point against a light blue sky; however, the drone was moving forward quickly.
The distance counter on the screen plummeted:
5 km.
3 km.
1 km.
And then—there.
The drone slowed, matching the helicopter's speed, hovering just outside its rotor wash. The feed was crystal clear, the image stabilizing as the drone's AI compensated for the wind. I could see everything.
A military-grade Black Hawk, its dark green paint job marked with faded insignia. The side door was open, and inside—
Four men.
All of them were dressed in completely black tactical gear, wearing helmets with visors, and having their rifles hanging on their chests. Their faces were not seen, but their stances were on a high level of military soldiers.
Not simply any soldiers. A commando unit.
One of the group was using his radio to talk. The wind carried his voice away, but his face showed that the matter was serious. The other person who was looking at the gun was getting ready with his hand movements that were smooth and very typical of the occasion.
Who in the name of God are these guys?
The aircraft swung to the side, going down toward a valley—not merely a valley.
A citadel.
The drone moved, taking a step backward to get a larger view of the site, and my stomach flipped.
The location was a base that was not easily identifiable. The whole place was enclosed by a huge metal fence, at least twenty feet in height, which was topped with coiled razor wire that was sparkling in the sunlight.
Observation towers were standing at every corner, where guards with rifles were positioned, and their guns were reflecting the light. Along with the fence, there were motion sensors and security cameras, and their red lights were blinking.
And inside?
Row after row of modern wooden houses.
Not huts. Not shacks.
Luxury.
They were both two-story buildings, with big glass windows, solar panels on the roofs, and outdoor verandas that were nicely furnished with chairs and tables.
Right through the compound was a main thoroughfare which was paved and smooth, and on both sides, there were street lamps. People walked from one house to another—men, women, and children—who were all wearing neat and modern clothes. Some carried tablets, others pushed strollers.
What. The. FUCK.
This wasn't just a military outpost.
This was a colony.
A hidden one.
This was a high-end futuristic concept for a base that has been nestled in the middle of nowhere; it was like a piece of the future was lying sideways inside the past as I absorbed all its elements unseen and noiseless, the drone with a satellite on its back, the sun being reflected by the parabolic surface, cables going underground, the generator making its low regular breathing and the power lines that were going into the earth like veins.
Not far were the jeeps, loaded with weapons, waiting to work and standing straight in their spots next to the hangar with their wheels covered in old mud, and their machine guns reflecting the light. The old and worn-out pads with faded and dirty letters were the ones used for landing; the mark HQ-7 was barely distinguishable under the dust.
And then I saw the fields.
The houses were surrounded by rows of crops that seemed to go on forever—corn, wheat, fruits, and vegetables that I had never seen before, all of them were growing in a very orderly manner and being watered by a system of pipes and sprinklers.
People wearing simple but durable modern clothes were walking between the plants and taking care of them. Some of them had handheld devices and were doing such things as checking the ground and controlling the water supply.
How long have they been here?
Months? Years?
This wasn't a temporary camp.
This was a permanent settlement.
I needed answers.
I lowered the drone from above, just enough to escape the enemy's sight. Without much effort, I changed its shape—its wings folding, its body getting lighter, twisting till it was not a sky terror but something smaller and less dangerous.
One that did not attract any attention.
A mouse.
Definitely the stealthiest one out of the stealthiest materials, with a surface resembling the fur, with tiny red eyes that were very bright initially, but then they dimmed to the same level as those of the real ones. It ran ahead with a natural, unbelievable manner as if it had always been alive.
The feed changed to sound and video, the drone's ultra-sensitive mics catching an indistinct whisper, timid footsteps, and soldiers clanking their equipment.
The mouse-drone easily navigated through the houses with no sound coming from its tiny paws on the ground.
The first voices it picked up were civilian—a woman and a child, their words soft but clear:
"—harvest next week, if the weather holds."
"Mama, can I go to the stream after?"
"No, sweetie. Not until the soldiers say it's safe."
Soldiers? Safe from what?
I leaned heavily on the tree with my back, the rough and twisted bark of the tree slowly letting the heaviness of what I saw - what I heard - envelop me with its cold and suffocating presence.
The mouse drone was still on the move, silently gliding through the colony like a phantom, and its little feet made no sound on the ground. I really had no idea how long I had been watching. Maybe hours. The sun had changed its position in the sky, and the long, weird shadows were cast on the earth.
And the things I'd discovered?
They were even worse than I had thought.
The mouse had somehow gotten into what appeared to be a purposely-built vault—a small, fortified building loaded with data tablets, printed logs, and an only flickering holographic projector.
A team of scientists in lab coats over their combat gear was gathered around it, whispering and very concerned.
"- last Command transmission before the collapse of the portal," one of them said, barely audible while he was clicking on the tablet.
The projector showed the first frame of a video timeline of events in sharp, luminous characters.
2030: Global conflict escalates.
First nuclear strikes. 2035: The War. 70% of the planet is rendered uninhabitable. Atmosphere toxic. Mass extinction event.
2036-2045: The Aftermath
. Survivors retreat to bunkers. Food sources collapse. Water poisoned.
2046: Discovery of the Ancient Virus. Thawed from glacial melt. Contaminates all remaining animal life. Human consumption becomes lethal.
2047: Population: 800 million. Death rate: 12% annually. Space colonization delayed indefinitely—energy sources depleted.
2050: Project Exodus initiated. An unstable temporal portal developed. 1,200 selected individuals were sent to the prehistoric era. Portal collapses mid-transmission. 300+ lost in transit.
My stomach twisted.
They're not just soldiers.
They're refugees, but they didn't end up here by mistake.
The biggest question is: How? A portal? It doesn't make sense. Unless... their future isn't the same as mine.
That changes everything. This isn't just a different time—it's a different world.
If they can come here, then there must be a way back to their future. But on second thought, why would I want that? Their world sounds worse than mine.
I glanced at my Pervert Debauchery System—it had everything, even a time machine. However, it cost a fortune: 1 billion Pervert Points. But who cares? I'm practically a god now—immortal, untouchable. Why worry when I can just have fun?
I grinned, my fingers twitching with anticipation. Time to play. These so-called "future people" thought they were advanced? They had no idea what was coming. I'd break them, mold them, make them worship the ground I walked on. Oh, this was going to be glorious. And when I was done? They'd have no choice but to call me their god—just like everyone else.
The mouse drone skittered over, kicking up little clouds of grit with its twitchy metal toes. I let it wander just far enough from their camp—close enough for them to start sweating, but not so close they'd freak out and start shooting at shadows.
Then I let my mind flick the switch. The thing started twisting and mutating—bones snapping, metal plates shifting, fur exploding into glossy black feathers. In about two blinks, the mouse was gone, and a jet-black crow was flapping smug little circles overhead, almost like it was showing off.
When it finally swooped down and landed on my palm, the whole thing just started to unravel. Feathers, beak, claws—poof. All melting into a slick little ring, glinting in the light. I spun it around my finger once, grinned, and chucked it into the black hole that was my Pervert Debauchery System's storage.
I turned to leave, but the forest suddenly felt alien. The trees, the rocks, even the damn wind—none of it looked familiar.
Wow, did I really just get spun around that fast? I actually laughed—couldn't help it. Nope, there's no way I could've done anything but double back. My brain was too busy playing 4D chess with itself over what to do next, and – honestly – who cares about directions when you're on a roll like that?
So, I snapped my fingers (yeah, real dramatic), and bam, up pops the World Map—sort of floating in the air. And there it is: A red dot with Agatha's name, flashing in angry red like she's trying to win a prize for Most Obnoxious Beacon. I remembered that I actually tagged her yesterday. For once, I didn't totally screw myself over.
I just cut across the woods, not even trying to be sneaky. Crunch, crack—twigs and dead leaves under my feet, the whole forest probably heard me coming. The smell of smoke and sweat got thicker with every step, until—boom, I'm out of the trees and just about to say something clever, but nope. My mouth snaps shut.
The clearing? Yeah, it's just wall-to-wall spears. Like, seriously, did someone order an army or what?
Every woman in the tribe stood at attention, their grips white-knuckled around their weapons. Even the injured ones had dragged themselves into formation. Their eyes darted between the tree line and Ravina, who stood at the front, her spear planted into the dirt like a standard. They were ready for war.
Then they saw me.
A ripple of relief passed through the ranks. "Our king!" The words spread like wildfire, whispered at first, then shouted. "Our king is back!"
Ravina didn't wait.
Her spear was dropped by her, and she flew to me full speed, her dark braid flying behind her. Her face was white, her breath was quick. "Dexter!" She took hold of my arms, her fingertips feeling like they were tearing into my skin.
"What the hell happened out there? We thought you were. " Her voice failed her. "We thought we'd lost you."
I reassured her with my hand on her shoulder and an expression that was neutral at least on the surface, "Aunt Ravina, calm down. It was nothing." A lie, but a decent one.
"I felt something weird coming from that direction, so I went to check it out. The news is it was a false alarm." No need to inform her about the other-world refugees. No need to inform her that I had made up my mind to trouble them.
She blew out her breath in a breath, her shoulders dropping as the tension flowed out of her. "You scared us half to death, you idiot."
I responded to her with a grin on my face, "But I'm back, aren't I?"
With that, I turned toward the tribe, my eyes running over them
They'd been so ready to fight—for me. It was almost touching.
I looked at the women who were injured...