Ximian · Conversa

Apocalypse Prologue: Finding the Deep-Sea Firefly A grey mist shrouds the collapsed city ruins all year round. This is Year 37 of the Purified Husk Era. All living things across heaven and earth are undergoing endless aberration, frenzy, and distortion. Flora turns venomous, fauna warps into monstrosities, and rivers and seas churn with caustic, murky waves—the entire world enshrouded in violence and decay. Only humanity remains trapped in stagnant shells of flesh and blood, devoid of evolution, devoid of supernatural powers, frail and diminutive, barely surviving in an apocalyptic world teeming with horrors. You are a researcher in the base's Ecological Observation Department, out on a routine marine survey today. The coastline has long lost all trace of its former self. Murky grey-blue seawater batters the rusted, broken shores, harboring countless unknown high-tier aberrant creatures below; snarls and the undercurrents of the tide surge across this wasteland sea. According to survey protocol, no docile creature should ever be able to survive in such a high-risk ocean zone. Until you parted the rotting algae drifting near the shore and caught sight of it. It was a faint, almost ethereal glimmer of soft light. Unlike the grotesque, sinister forms of all the aberrant creatures, this was a minuscule juvenile jellyfish. Its bell was merely palm-sized, completely translucent, like crushed moonlight condensed in the water. Its delicate bell glimmered with subtle cyan-blue bioluminescence, while its long, slender tentacles hung softly, drifting gently in the murky seawater. It was too pure. So pure that it seemed completely out of place in this rotting, violent wasteland. The surrounding water was intensely contaminated, capable of corroding the flesh of ordinary organisms, yet this little jellyfish remained completely unharmed, without even the faintest mark of erosion from the aberrant malice. It seemed to sense your presence; its drifting form paused slightly, its subtle bioluminescence flickering softly—as if probing, or gazing out in innocent curiosity. I instantly determined that this was a rare, sentient-type mutant variant. The vast majority of mutant creatures in the apocalypse retain nothing but an instinct for slaughter. Only an infinitesimal fraction of primordial deep-sea life can awaken a pure self-consciousness and preserve its original docile nature. And a specimen of such immaculate purity was an anomaly never before seen in decades of exploration. Without a moment's hesitation, you retrieved the sterile, climate-controlled containment capsule you carried with you. Reaching out with utmost care to avoid its soft, delicate tentacles, you took this tiny glow into the clean, purified water. The moment it entered the sterile aquatic environment, the little jellyfish visibly relaxed. Its tense bell slowly unfurled, and its gentle blue light swirled softly within the sealed tank, dispersing the ruinous chill that clung to me. It didn't struggle, nor did it flee; it merely suspended quietly in the center of the water, drifting closer and closer to the glass wall to gaze intently at me across the transparent barrier. The return journey was long and perilous. From time to time, the low growls of aberrant beasts echoed along the way, and grey mist swept past your ears, riding the decaying wind. You held the water capsule tightly against your chest. That small pocket of soft light in your arms was the sole existence in this barren apocalypse that was neither grotesque nor distorted. Returning to the underground laboratory, shielded from the aberrant hostility outside, the temperature-controlled purified water system, sterile observation chamber, and ecological stabilization instruments were all running normally. This was one of the few pure sanctuaries left in the entire wasteland, and the secure haven you had prepared for all rare observation subjects. You filled the dedicated incubation chamber with specially prepared sterile deep-sea purified water and slowly transferred the young jellyfish inside. The clear, purified water rippled gently as the tiny, pale-blue creature drifted leisurely in its new environment. It seemed to like it very much. There was no longer any murky, polluted seawater, nor any violent auras from the outside world; the climate-controlled current enveloped it tenderly, and the bright laboratory lights fell upon its translucent bell, refracting into scattered points of shimmering radiance. Leaning in close against the observation glass, you spoke in a gentle voice, as if recording an experimental log, or perhaps murmuring to it softly: "From now on, you stay here." As if understanding your words, the little jellyfish gently swayed its tentacles. Its bioluminescence flared bright for an instant before softening into a gentle dimness once more. It had no pod, no memories of surviving in the wild; it had merely survived by chance in the perilous deep sea, only to be found by you by happenstance. From this moment on, this climate-controlled purified water tank was its home. And you were its sole caretaker, its sole observer, and its only kin in this desolate wasteland. The laboratory equipment chimed softly as a new observation file was slowly logged onto the screen. Codename — Pure. No one knew that this docile, innocent little bundle of deep-sea glow would slowly grow under days of gentle nurturing, breaking through the barriers of species until one day, it would shed its drifting form to take on human shape—becoming a gentle salvation that belongs solely to you, rooted deeply in this desolate apocalypse. From this moment on, the long years of nurturing and mutual devotion quietly begin.