THE MINISTRIANS

The planet Mage was dying. Its core, once a blazing heart of energy that sustained all life, was slowly burning out. This decline had begun centuries ago when the Ministrians discovered a way to siphon the planet's core energy. What they called the surge became the foundation of their power and immortality.

The Ministrians were six in number, each wielding control over an essential facet of life on Mage:

Lord Gringo Mortal, the Treasurer, manipulated all financial systems. Every coin, bank, and transaction bent to his will.

Lord Phil Mortal, the Lawmaker, crafted and enforced laws with ruthless precision, ensuring the Ministry's absolute control.

Lady Sparta Mortal, the Judge, was the executor of justice, her verdicts unquestionable. She punished and pardoned as she pleased.

Lady Sassy Mortal, the Resource Keeper, controlled the planet's resources, pricing even the basics—land, air, and water—at costs the masses could barely afford.

Lord Jeffery Mortal, the Technocrat, ruled technology, limiting its use to suppress rebellion and amplify the Ministrians' influence.

Lord Dominic Mortal, the Power Broker, was the unchallenged leader. Every ruler and commander was his puppet, ensuring the Ministrians' supremacy.

The Ministrians claimed immortality, saying the surge, harnessed from the planet's core, had frozen their aging. Yet their immortality came at a cost. Mage itself was dying, its core growing unstable with each passing year. The people lived in fear of both their rulers and the slow, inevitable collapse of their world.

ARRIVAL AT THE MINISTRY

Wilson Tanga sat at the back of the bus, his fingers drumming against the metal seat frame. The Ministry's towers loomed ahead, spearing the gray sky like obsidian knives. He hated everything about this trip. The forced smiles of his classmates, the looming presence of the guards, the reverence demanded by the Ministry—it all made his skin crawl.

"Are we there yet?" he grumbled, glancing at his best friend, Jason.

Jason smirked. "You're acting like a kid. Relax. It's just a school tour."

Wilson's scowl deepened. "It's not just a tour. It's propaganda. They want us to admire the people who make our lives miserable."

Jason sighed. "Just… keep your head down. You know what happens to people who speak out."

Wilson clenched his fists. He knew all too well. His father, once a vocal critic of the Ministry, had vanished years ago without a trace. The Ministry didn't tolerate dissent.

The bus screeched to a halt in the Ministry's centaury, a sprawling expanse of polished black stone. Around its edges stood statues of the Ministrians, carved larger than life. Each one bore an inscription of their "contribution" to Mage. Wilson felt sick just looking at them.

A woman in a sharp gray uniform strode forward as the students disembarked. "Good morning," she said briskly. "I'm Mrs. Louise, your guide. Stay with the group, and do not touch anything. The Ministry's artifacts are irreplaceable. Understood?"

The students murmured their agreement, though Wilson stayed silent. His gaze lingered on the tallest statue—Lord Dominic. Even in stone, the ruler's eyes seemed to follow him.

DISCOVERY

The Ministry's grand hall was a masterpiece of excess. Marble floors stretched endlessly, and golden chandeliers cast warm light onto walls engraved with the history of the Ministrians. Holographic displays flickered with images of their triumphs, each frame portraying them as saviors of Mage.

But Wilson's mind was elsewhere. A faint sound caught his attention—a low hum that vibrated beneath his feet. It was rhythmic, like a heartbeat. He slowed his steps, falling behind the group.

As they turned a corner, Wilson saw it: a crack in the wall, barely visible. He pressed his hand against it, and with a soft hiss, a panel slid open, revealing a narrow passage.

A cold draft swept out, carrying with it the hum that had drawn him. Without thinking, he stepped inside. The panel slid shut behind him, leaving him in darkness.

THE SURGE AND THE CHASE

Blue light flickered along the walls, illuminating glyphs carved into the stone. Wilson's breathe quickened. The air felt heavy, charged with energy. The hum grew louder, resolving into voices ahead. He crept forward, his steps cautious.

The passage opened into a chamber unlike anything he'd ever seen. The walls glowed faintly, their surfaces etched with flowing lines of energy. At the center stood two figures: Lady Sparta and Lord Dominic. Between them hovered a cylindrical container filled with a swirling, liquid link energy —the surge.

"The surge is unstable," Lady Sparta said, her voice sharp. "It's consuming the core faster than we anticipated. If we don't slow the extraction—"

"We risk losing our immortality," Dominic interrupted, his tone icy. "Do you really think the people will stand by if we grow old and weak? The surge is our lifeline—and theirs, even if they don't see it."

Lady Sparta scoffed. "You mean it's your lifeline. The core can't sustain this level of extraction forever, Dominic. If we don't change course, we'll kill the planet."

Dominic's eyes narrowed. "Then so be it. Without the Ministrians, Mage is already dead."

The argument escalated, but Wilson's focus was on the surge. It seemed alive, its golden light pulsating. As Lady Sparta gestured angrily, the container slipped from her hands. It shattered on the ground, and the surge spilled out, flowing like molten metal.

Before anyone could react, it moved—fast and purposeful—toward Wilson.

"No!" Dominic shouted, but it was too late. The surge climbed Wilson's legs, wrapping around his body like living fire. He screamed as it burrowed into his chest, his veins lighting up with the surge's energy.

CAPTURED

Wilson collapsed, gasping for air as the surge settled inside him. His entire body burned, the energy coursing through him like molten lava. Before he could gather his thoughts, Dominic's voice rang out.

"Guards! Secure him!"

Wilson staggered to his feet and ran. His steps were unsteady, but adrenaline drove him forward. Behind him, the sound of boots echoed down the passage.

He didn't make it far. The guards tackled him, pinning him to the ground. His vision blurred as they dragged him back toward the Ministrians.

THE JUDGEMENT

After a few moments went by the tour was over, but Wilson was put in prison for more than 4 hours, but suddenly two guards appeared and dragged him off the ground, heading towards the judgement chamber.

Wilson was thrown to his knees before the Ministrians. They surrounded him like a council of gods, their expressions unreadable. Dominic stepped forward, his gaze piercing.

"Where is the surge, boy?" he demanded.

Wilson's voice was hoarse. "It's… inside me. I didn't want this. It just happened."

"Lies," Lady Sparta spat. "You were spying. Who sent you?"

"No one sent me!" Wilson shouted. "I got lost!"

Dominic gestured, and two guards entered, dragging a bound woman into the chamber. Wilson's blood ran cold.

"Mom?" he whispered.

Mrs. Clara struggled against her captors, her face pale. "Wilson! What have they done to you?"

Dominic's voice was calm, but his eyes were cold. "The surge belongs to us. Surrender it, or she dies."

Wilson's heart pounded. "I don't know how to! It's… it's fused with me."

Dominic's smile was razor-sharp. "Then we'll find a way to take it." As the guards took him and his mother back to their cells.