Chapter 52: Kewpie

Chapter 52: Kewpie

In the grand and imposing office of Chancellor Klaus Henning, the atmosphere was tense, thick with anticipation and anxiety. The Chancellor himself, a man known for his calm demeanor and ironclad control, was visibly agitated as he awaited the briefing on the catastrophic events in the Black Forest. Around the table sat his top military advisors, intelligence officers, and key members of his cabinet, all of whom wore grim expressions.

General Markus Lang, the commanding officer of the Bundeswehr, stood at the head of the table, holding a dossier filled with reports, maps, and photographs from the scene. He took a deep breath before beginning, knowing that the news he was about to deliver would shock the entire room.

"Chancellor Henning," Lang began, his voice steady but filled with a somber undertone, "the situation in the Black Forest is dire. Our initial reports were only the tip of the iceberg. What we've uncovered is far worse than we anticipated."

The Chancellor nodded, signaling for Lang to continue. "Go on, General."

Lang opened the dossier and laid out a series of photographs on the table. The first images showed a devastated landscape—trees splintered, craters scattered across the ground, and signs of intense firefights. Bullet casings and shrapnel littered the area, evidence of a brutal and chaotic battle.

"We found extensive evidence of heavy combat," Lang explained. "High-caliber rounds, grenade fragments, and even traces of advanced weaponry that we have yet to identify. There were signs of an intense firefight, and blood was found in significant quantities—enough to suggest that there were numerous casualties."

The Chancellor leaned forward, examining the photos with a frown. "And the bodies? What of the missing civilians and police?"

Lang hesitated before responding, his face pale. "We found no civilian or police bodies, sir. However, we did recover the bodies of half of the 98th Regiment of Mountain Infantry."

Gasps echoed around the room, and Henning's eyes widened in shock. "Half the regiment?" he asked, incredulous. "And the other half?"

Lang's expression grew even more somber. "The other half, sir… they were found alive, but unconscious. They were lying in neat rows, as if someone—or something—had placed them there. When we attempted to wake them, they were completely unresponsive at first. After several hours, some began to regain consciousness, but they all shared one thing in common: amnesia."

"Amnesia?" the Chancellor repeated, his disbelief evident. "They don't remember anything?"

"Not a single detail," Lang confirmed. "They have no memory of what happened during the operation. It's as if their minds have been wiped clean."

Henning leaned back in his chair, his face a mask of deep concern. "This… this is impossible," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "And you're telling me that no one knows what caused this? No one saw anything?"

Lang shook his head. "No, sir. Whatever happened, it was beyond our understanding. And there's one more thing…"

He paused, clearly reluctant to share the next piece of information. Henning's eyes narrowed as he sensed the hesitation. "What is it, General?"

Lang took another deep breath before answering. "During our investigation, we detected radiation. High levels of it. We confirmed that a nuclear device was detonated in the area."

The room fell into a stunned silence, the gravity of the situation sinking in. Henning's face went pale as he struggled to comprehend what he was hearing. "A nuclear explosion… on German soil," he said slowly, his voice thick with disbelief and anger. "And no one saw it coming? No one can explain how this happened?"

"No, sir," Lang replied quietly. "We're still trying to piece together the details, but the evidence we have is… sparse. The survivors can't tell us anything, and the area is too contaminated for a thorough investigation."

Henning's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. "So let me get this straight, General. We have a battlefield littered with the bodies of our soldiers, civilians and police missing without a trace, an entire regiment either dead or suffering from complete memory loss, and a nuclear detonation… and not a single person in this room can tell me who or what is responsible?"

The General stood silent, unable to provide the answers the Chancellor demanded. The frustration in Henning's voice was palpable, his anger barely contained. 

"How does this happen in my country, under my watch?" Henning demanded, his voice rising. "We are one of the most advanced nations in the world, with some of the best intelligence and military forces, and yet here we are, blindsided by an event of this magnitude!"

He slammed his fist on the table, causing several officials to jump. "I want answers!" Henning roared. "I want to know who did this, and I want them brought to justice! No more excuses, no more delays!"

Lang nodded, though the doubt in his eyes was clear. "We'll do everything in our power, Chancellor. But I must warn you… we may be dealing with forces or entities that operate beyond our understanding of conventional warfare."

Henning's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying this was some kind of… supernatural event?"

Lang hesitated, then nodded. "We can't rule it out, sir. The nature of the incident suggests something beyond our usual experience. Whatever it was, it was powerful enough to do this," he gestured to the photos, "and to leave us completely in the dark."

The Chancellor was silent for a long moment, his mind racing. Finally, he spoke, his voice deadly serious. "I don't care what it takes, General. I want this mystery solved. Mobilize all resources, coordinate with international intelligence agencies, and bring in any experts you need. I want answers, and I want them soon."

"Yes, sir," Lang replied, his expression resolute.

Henning fixed the General with a hard stare. "And General," he added, "if this really is something… beyond our understanding, then I expect you to handle it discreetly. The last thing we need is a public panic or an international incident."

"Understood, sir," Lang said, standing at attention. "We'll keep this contained."

"Good," the Chancellor said, dismissing the General and the other officials with a wave of his hand. "Now get to work."

As the room emptied, Chancellor Henning remained seated, staring out the window at the bustling city below. The weight of the crisis bore heavily on his shoulders, the uncertainty gnawing at him. A nuclear explosion, an entire military regiment decimated or mind-wiped, and no explanation… The implications were terrifying.

But one thing was certain: whatever had caused this, whoever was behind it, they would be found. And when they were, they would pay for what they had done.

With that thought, Henning stood and walked over to his desk. He had a nation to protect, and he would not rest until this threat was eliminated.

—

A soldier stood quietly amidst the wreckage of the forest, a place that had once been tranquil, now marred by the violence of an unseen battle. His sharp eyes scanned the surroundings—shattered trees, scorched earth, and most disturbingly, the bodies of soldiers laid out in neat rows, as if placed there deliberately. Blood stained the ground in dark patches, and the smell of gunpowder lingered in the air. Yet, there were no obvious signs of an ongoing conflict, only the eerie silence that followed.

He could hear the low voices of two soldiers not far off. Their conversation was tense, laden with the weight of what they had discovered. The soldier strained to listen, his interest piqued.

"Did you hear what they're saying?" one of the soldiers muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "None of the survivors remember a damn thing. It's like their minds were wiped clean."

"Yeah, I heard," the other replied, his tone edged with disbelief. "It doesn't make any sense. How do you just forget something like this?"

"They say the chancellor himself is involved in it," the first soldier continued, his voice dropping even lower. "You don't think…?"

The second soldier cut him off. "Don't even say it. This is bad enough without jumping to conclusions."

The soldier listening from a distance felt his pulse quicken. The mention of memory loss and the strange alignment of the unconscious soldiers were too coincidental. It triggered something in his mind—a connection to previous briefings, reports that hinted at such phenomena but were always wrapped in layers of secrecy.

Discreetly, he began to move away from the group, ensuring his departure went unnoticed. He slipped behind a large, half-burnt tree, checking once more that he was alone. Satisfied, he pulled out a small, sleek communicator from his jacket. The device was unmarked, designed to blend in with ordinary objects, but it carried an encryption level far beyond anything his fellow soldiers would recognize.

He activated the communicator, and it hummed softly to life. He waited a beat, then spoke in a low, controlled voice, betraying none of the urgency he felt. "This is Unit 4539," he began, using his code designation. "I've come across something significant. Possible traces of Kewpie activity. Survivors found in the forest… none of them have any memory of what happened. Situation aligns with prior reports."

He paused, listening to the faint static on the other end. After a few seconds, a response came—a brief, indistinct crackle, a sound only he could interpret. He nodded to himself, understanding the unspoken command. Deftly, he switched off the device and tucked it back into his jacket, his expression hardening as he rejoined his unit.

The soldier's mind raced as he returned to his position. The code name "Kewpie" resonated in his thoughts, a term loaded with meaning and consequence. He knew that this was more than just a routine mission. The implications of what he had found were enormous, and the mere mention of Kewpie would set off alarm bells in the right circles.

As the soldiers continued their sweep of the forest, the man's eyes remained sharp, searching not just for physical evidence but for any clue, any sign that could confirm his suspicions. He was trained to notice the subtle, the hidden, and he knew that whatever had happened here was far from ordinary.

In his mind, he was already preparing his next report, knowing that the discovery of Kewpie traces would elevate this mission to a whole new level. He would need to tread carefully, to ensure that his actions didn't draw unnecessary attention. The information he carried was too valuable, too dangerous, to be mishandled.

As they moved deeper into the forest, the soldier remained vigilant, his thoughts a careful blend of observation and strategy. He was well aware that this was just the beginning. Whatever had transpired in the Black Forest was the start of something much larger, and he was now a key player in a game that would unfold far beyond this remote location. But for now, he kept his thoughts to himself, the name "Kewpie" echoing in his mind, a silent reminder of the mission that lay ahead.

---

Léonard returned home to Lille, seeking some much-needed rest after the intense events that had unfolded. His modern apartment in the heart of the city was a stark contrast to the chaos he had recently faced. The sleek furniture and soft lighting provided a calming atmosphere, a sanctuary where he could finally take a breath and assess the situation.

But even in the comfort of his home, Léonard couldn't completely detach from his responsibilities. As he settled into his bedroom, he couldn't resist logging into the Foundation's system. Despite the on-going update that had restricted much of his access, the habit of staying informed was ingrained too deeply to ignore.

The interface was familiar yet slightly altered, reflecting the Foundation's latest protocols. He quickly navigated to the resource management section, making sure all was in order. Supplies, personnel, and logistical operations—everything seemed to be functioning smoothly. The efficiency was reassuring, but Léonard knew that maintaining such order was only a small part of his duties.

With a flicker of curiosity, he moved on to the "General Information" tab, scrolling through the usual data—site status reports, personnel updates, and the current diplomatic stance of the Foundation. It was a routine task, yet something urged him to take a closer look this time.

Under the "Diplomacy" section, two entries immediately stood out. The first was the "Gendastrerie Nationale," marked as an ally. This wasn't surprising, given the recent collaborations, but it was still something he felt he should monitor. He made a mental note to ensure that the alliance remained stable, especially in the wake of recent events.

The second entry, however, was far more concerning. The Esoteric Order of the White Worm—a name that stirred memories of one of the most dangerous threats the Foundation had ever faced in the past weeks. The group was listed as an enemy, which was expected, but the details beneath the title made Léonard's pulse quicken.

The status of the Order was anything but reassuring. His eyes scanned the data, his heart sinking as he processed the implications. Despite previous operations believed to have eradicated the group, 25% of their forces were still unaccounted for. This was not just a remnant, but a significant portion, enough to cause serious trouble.

His thoughts raced. How had they survived? Where were they hiding? What were they planning? Questions flooded his mind, each more urgent than the last. The ramifications of this discovery could be catastrophic if not handled with precision and speed.

But the worst revelation was yet to come. As his eyes moved to the final line of the report, a chill ran down his spine. The status of the leader of the Esoteric Order was not marked as "Deceased," as he had hoped. Instead, it was highlighted in bold green letters, a single word that sent a shockwave through his system.

Alive.