On a quiet Tuesday morning in January 2026, the world was breathing at its usual rhythm, as if nothing had ever happened.
In Washington, the American president stood before Congress, dressed in his dark blue suit, speaking in a calm but firm voice: "The world is moving toward real peace. We're closer to it now than at any time before. All that remains is to bring an end to a few limited military conflicts with certain countries… and then we can declare a new era of cooperation and prosperity." The hall erupted in warm applause. The live broadcast carried his words to millions of screens across the planet.
In the Kremlin, Vladimir Putin sat in his vast office with its heavy wooden walls, surrounded by his ministers of economy, finance, and energy. Maps and charts covered the large table. "We need to push GDP growth to 4% this year," he said in a low but decisive tone. "Increase gas exports, develop the new Arctic fields, and strengthen our partnerships with China and India." The discussion went on for a long time. Black coffee kept flowing into the cups. Everyone in the room knew that, these days, the economy was Russia's most powerful weapon.
In Beijing, President Xi Jinping was signing a massive trade agreement with ASEAN countries, opening fresh gateways for the Digital Silk Road. In Paris, Macron was meeting with European leaders to discuss the energy crisis. In London, the British Prime Minister announced huge new investments in artificial intelligence. In Brasília, Lula was celebrating an environmental agreement to protect the Amazon.
And in Algeria—that shining jewel on the shores of the Mediterranean—President Abdelmadjid Tebboune was receiving international delegations in the majestic white Muradia Palace. He signed green energy agreements and industrial partnerships with Europe and Africa, smiling as he said: "Algeria is not just an oil and gas country. It is the beating heart of Africa, a civilizational bridge between North and South, the land of one and a half million martyrs that taught the world the true meaning of dignity and sovereignty." The sun was shining on the palm trees of Algiers, the green-and-white flags were fluttering proudly, and the people watched with a mixture of hope and quiet confidence.
Everything seemed perfectly ordinary. Just another working day in a world still trying to heal its wounds.
But far away, in a place no human eyes or ordinary satellites could ever reach, there existed a completely hidden control room. Hundreds of meters underground, in a location that appears on no official map. Black glossy metal walls. No windows. No visible doors. A faint violet light rising from the floor itself.
In the center of the room: a high-backed swivel chair. On it sat a man whose face no one had ever seen. His military uniform was utterly strange—pitch black like a starless night, cut by razor-sharp white lines, with faint phosphorescent violet touches that glowed softly in the dark, like blood pulsing under skin. No insignia, no ranks, no name. Only a small symbol on his chest: a black circle containing two crossed lines that formed an inverted hourglass.
Before him, an entire curved wall of screens—dozens of them—displaying thermal images of cities around the world, military bases, factories, secret laboratories. Impossible camera angles: inside closed meeting rooms, above fighter jets in flight, beneath the oceans. Satellites that existed in no international database.
The man watched in silence. His fingers moved across a transparent control panel floating in the air.
Then the view slowly shifted from behind the chair, the camera circling around his straight back until we see the modern table in front of him: a black glass surface, small devices, and a palm-sized communicator glowing with faint violet light.
The device suddenly made a clear sound—mechanical, yet strangely human: "Sir, both teams M01 and B20 have returned. Mission completed with total success. No losses. No traces."
The man didn't turn. His eyes stayed on the screens. His voice came out calm, deep, and completely accentless: "Excellent."
Then he noticed something. On one of the global thermal maps, small red dots had appeared in scattered locations: Siberia, the Algerian desert, the depths of the Atlantic, the Himalayas, the Amazon rainforest. The dots were growing brighter, as if something were waking up beneath the earth.
His tone shifted ever so slightly. A faint, invisible smile touched his lips. "I knew you wouldn't stay hidden for long."
He pressed a small button on the table. A new screen appeared: a long list of codenames—M01, B20, R77, K13, X44… Some glowing green (returned), some red (in operation), some gray (missing).
He selected a new name: Z09. He sent a short voice message: "Prepare yourselves. Phase Two begins now."
He returned his gaze to the thermal map. The red dots had multiplied. Fifteen of them now, pulsing with increasing intensity.
He whispered to himself: "The world thinks it's walking toward peace… when in reality, it's walking toward awakening."
Up on the surface, in the daylight world, presidents were still giving speeches, signing documents, smiling for cameras.
But beneath the surface, something very ancient, something long forgotten, had begun to move.
In Algeria, deep in the heart of the Great Sahara, where golden dunes stretch forever, one of those red dots was glowing with particular ferocity. Beneath the still sands, in a deep cavern untouched by human feet for thousands of years, a faint sound began to emerge: the quiet scraping of metal against metal… as though something enormous was breathing for the first time in an incredibly long while.
The man in the black room watched that particular point with unblinking eyes. "Welcome back, old one's" he said softly.