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Kiev...
Tashkent...
Minsk...
Vladivostok...
To Moscow...
All razed, all reduced to rubble within a single day.
The Soviet apparatchiks teetered on the brink of collapse, their once formidable power and prestige now a distant memory. Their futile struggle against the unknowable, the machines that eclipsed the sun, impervious to bullets, swifter than the swiftest jets, and impervious to the sacrifice of men on the battlefield. It was a menace surpassing even the horrors of the Great Patriotic War, a threat that loomed larger over the USSR than any enemy before. The Cold War superpower, with its fifteen republics and myriad nationalities united under one banner, now lay devastated. Few souls remained among the ruins, the machines having claimed them all—sentient beings from a different era, from a different world. Even their longtime adversaries, the U.S. and Australia, had succumbed, the capitalists vanquished as well.
But...This was a battle for the survival of humanity itself.
The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics crumbled, perhaps sooner than expected, but immortalized nonetheless. For you can dismantle a state, but you cannot extinguish an idea, nor can you erase the spirit—the essence enshrined in the annals of history. You cannot quench the thirst of human aspiration. It may not be flawless, but if its imperfections are cause for its dismissal, then humanity itself may not be worthy of existence.
Fight.
Amidst the ruins of a shattered empire, the great cities of the USSR lie in ashes, extinguished by the wrath of a mysterious force—the Absolute Solver. From these smoldering remains, the KGB Alpha Group retreats to a distant bunker, cloaked in the secrecy of forbidden technology, accessible only to the highest echelons of Soviet power.
The Cold War superpower clings to its last breath, yet the struggle is far from over. Here, within these cold, dark walls, upon a casket heavy with history, rests the body of a man whose legacy looms large.
This vessel, once a mere shell, now harbors the dormant essence of the departed spirit, awaiting to be roused from its profound slumber. The awakening will demand a price.
It will demand their lives.
It will demand their nation.
It will demand...
Everything!
Every individual, from the narcissistic psychopaths to the reactionary underground anarchists, from future leaders to nationalists, believers, haters, sons, daughters, lovers, couples, geniuses, fools, supreme leaders, decorated heroes, and saviors—every being identifying as a citizen of the nation would involuntarily meld into something grander, something greater, something so unimaginably vast that it might as well be deemed invincible—the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics itself reborn, incarnate in the material realm.
But would they consent to this sacrifice? Would they offer themselves up? The occult ritual, once experimental, clung to shreds of truth within its superstition, and the Soviets had delved into research for untold years to harness its power, previously wielded against their American rivals. Now, in their final hour, they faced the ultimate test.
The bunker trembled, time slipping through their fingers like grains of sand. Even Siberia lay vulnerable to the monstrous entity from the void, every corner of the Earth facing imminent reckoning as the Solver, a devourer of worlds, prepared to claim the planet in its entirety. It relished the impending feast, relishing the taste of its impending victory. The very foundation of the world quivered under its malevolent presence. There was no time left; mistakes were a luxury they could not afford.
The Marshal, the incumbent General Secretary, the First Secretaries of the Republics, the leader of the KGB—all laid their hands on their chests, bound by their final oath, their ultimate sacrifice. In the dimly lit chamber, men and women united in a symbolic act of devotion to a cause that some might question, a belief that might not be flawless, in a nation that believed in its incomprehensible greatness. Today, they would dream once more, defying the harsh reality, facing the unyielding truth, one last time.
The chant resonates, echoing in the void. A ritual, dark and twisted, stirs the lifeless form, melding flesh and spirit into a singular force. No longer merely the leader of a nation, Stalin emerges, infused with the souls of the fallen and the weight of a trillion ambitions.
Ready to confront the ancient terror known as Cyn, he rises—a harbinger of vengeance, a specter forged in the crucible of despair. For socialism, for the Union he once commanded, he stands resolute, prepared for one last, desperate battle.
And the echoes of history swirl around him, the lines between salvation and annihilation blur. The fate of a world hangs in the hands of those whose life only knew of shadows, and the final act of a dying power.
The ritual reached its crescendo, weaving together ideals, beliefs, and a storied history, transcending the pettiness of politics and the flaws of humankind. From this convergence emerged a new entity, a culmination of shared dreams and collective sacrifices—the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics...
Reborn.
The atmosphere was thick with hate, saturated with pain, philosophy, arguments, jokes, dreams—all rendered meaningless. The Solver basked in its triumph, adorned in the tattered remnants of the girl whose innocence had unwittingly paved its path to this realm, relishing the feast before it. Unconstrained by notions of superpowers, indifferent to the scale or stature of nations, humanity bowed to its inevitable fate. Impersonal and insatiable, driven not by malice or vendetta but by an unquenchable hunger to consume this world, the void god materialized in digital form, a sardonic grin etched upon its grotesque visage as it levitated above its macabre creation.
A chilling giggle echoed across the desolate ruins of Moscow, beneath the eerie glow of the sun-obscuring orb. Amidst the swarm of death machines blotting the skies, where blood flowed in rivers, the cores of the drones contorted into flesh by malevolence, the hearts of men had hardened into iron.
And iron they became, as the disassemblers were ripped from the heavens, streaks of light homing in on their targets, reducing the demonic forces to ash. The remaining humans were gone, disappearing in a blur. What transpired was unfathomable, yet amidst the chaos, a steadfast confidence emerged—what these persistent vermin could muster was insufficient to deter her. With telekinetic prowess, the Solver wielded the universe as her playground, rendering tanks, planes, and flesh mere playthings in her hands.
Yet a looming presence still stirred, colossal and foreboding, another futile attempt by humanity to challenge her supremacy? Pathetic! Billions of death machines, outnumbering men, women, and children...
But not every soul that had ever walked this earth.
From the smoldering remnants of destruction, from the sepulcher of a fallen nation, beams of light pierced the darkness, shattering her forces! The losses are acceptable, she possessed backups, tentacles lashed out at the encroaching threat. She exuded power, convinced of her omnipotence, yet therein lay her fatal flaw. In the chaos, she beheld a squadron of fighter jets—countless in number, unlike any she had encountered before. Her Solver attempted to swiftly eradicate them, but these were no ordinary foes; impervious to manipulation, impervious to destruction, they were spectral manifestations, the vengeful spirits of a nation roused from slumber, humanity's resolute cry of defiance.
Soldiers, silhouetted figures wielding antique weaponry, clad in long coats, once waged a battle against their own kind. Embodying an idea that transcended the physical, they rose from the rubble, manifesting from nothing, from a time long past, from an idea long lost to psyche, from the glory that may. marching in perfect unison, the streets resonating with the thunder of their boots. As the disassemblers descended, they met a torrent of fire that tore them to pieces. The machines retaliated, but no amount of lasers or kinetics could touch these ethereal warriors; their attacks phased through, incapable of touching the embodiment of faith, of an indomitable power that surpassed mere flesh. For their cores were of flesh, unable to harm those whose hearts had been forged into...
Iron.
The great cacophony of battle sung terror, the relentless clash of wills reverberated through the desolation. The soldiers, faceless yet resolute, raised their rifles in unison, a symphony of defiance echoing across the war-torn landscape. With a unified battle cry that shook the very foundations of their besieged nation, they unleashed a storm of bullets from their weathered weapons, a relentless barrage that filled the air with a symphony of destruction.
The short tanks adorned with crimson stars rumbled forward, their cannons roaring in defiance, a mechanical chorus of war. Undeterred, she wielded the power of nullification, each spectral soldier nullified into oblivion with a flick of her hand. Yet from the void left by their vanishing forms, more arose; the relentless tide of spectral warriors fueled by an unbreakable resolve.
The Solver of the Absolute Fabric, a being of unparalleled might and voracious hunger, bellowed with unfathomable power, its very essence pulsating with cosmic supremacy. It knew these were but pawns in the grand design, mere chess pieces in a game of universal proportions. But in the chaos and the clash of forces, Cyn can sense something greater, a palpable shift in the atmosphere—a presence, a gestalt amalgamation of faith and resilience, an entity of indomitable will, loomed large, a specter of insurmountable defiance stood tall...
And it was right behind her.
And there, in the heart of the maelstrom, as the conflict reached its zenith, the crescendo of ages past....
The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics itself stood tall in its final stand against the all-consuming might of the Solver of the Absolute Fabric.
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