From Idler to Tech Tycoon: Earth-Chapter 158: Praetoriani Rising

The raucous laughter and excited shouts from the arcade simulation booths suddenly died. In the main lounge, an android officer, its movements precise and formal, stepped forward, clearing its throat with a synthesized ahem that nonetheless commanded attention. Every eye snapped to the front.

Then, with dramatic precision, the double doors at the far end of the lounge hissed open. Bathed in a brilliant, almost blinding spotlight, the first figure emerged: a Praetoriani Commander armor, its golden-yellow and blood-red streaks shimmering, its crimson cape flowing majestically behind it. Its presence was commanding, radiating an aura of untouchable power.

A collective gasp swept through the recruits. Miguel dropped his virtual joystick. Pedro stood frozen, a half-eaten snack forgotten in his hand. Santos, the grizzled veteran, felt a chill run down his spine that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature.

One by one, the others followed: the Praetoriani Captain armor, elegant with its single, sweeping cape; the formidable Praetoriani Enforcer armor, a brute force of design; and finally, a line of the standard issue Hoplite and Stratos armors, still awe-inspiring in their sheer presence. The recruits who had been immersed in their simulated wars stepped out of the booths, their faces slack with a mixture of disbelief and fervent admiration. They approached the gleaming figures, drawn like moths to a flame.

On the monitoring platform, Richard turned to Ciano, a calm, expectant look on his face. "As their commander, Ciano, this is your moment. Your men need to hear it from you. Their general."

Ciano nodded, a grim resolve settling on his features. He walked to the edge of the platform, the subtle hum of its gravitic fields the only sound. He reached up, his gauntleted hand moving with practiced ease, and with a soft pneumatic hiss, his visor retracted, revealing his intense, battle-hardened face to the crowd below. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, now held a burning conviction, a reflection of the faith that had touched him.

"Listen to me!" Ciano’s voice boomed, amplified by hidden speakers, filling the vast lounge without shouting, commanding absolute silence. "Look at what stands before you!" He swept an arm towards the gleaming rows of armor. "This is not a dream! This is not another false promise!"

Murmurs rippled through the recruits. "He’s real!" "That’s Ciano!" "What is this, boss?"

"For too long," Ciano continued, his voice gaining momentum, "we have fought like cornered animals in the jungle, for scraps, for territory, for respect from those who gave us none! We used crude tools, blunt force, to survive a dirty war. But no more! Today, you stand at the precipice of a new fight! A true war! And you will be given the tools to win it!"

He paused, letting his words sink in, letting their eyes feast on the majestic armors before them. "These are the tools of liberation! The instruments of righteous fury! They represent a power you have only dreamt of!"

A collective gasp, louder this time, swept through the lounge. "Holy Mother of God!" "They’re the real deal!"

Ciano’s voice hardened, filled with a zealous edge. "But these armors are not simply metal and circuits. They are an extension of your will, an amplification of your spirit, a manifestation of your deepest faith! They are reserved for those who are willing to push past their limits, to embrace a destiny beyond anything you have known!"

He swept his hand across the gleaming ranks of power armor, his voice resonating with deep pride and challenge. "Do you want to wield this power?! Do you want to become more than just men? Do you want to become something unbreakable?!"

The recruits were silent now, their faces rapt, a mixture of disbelief and burgeoning zeal in their eyes. The sheer majesty of the armors, combined with Ciano’s powerful words, had captivated them.

Ciano let the awe settle, then his expression turned grim, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl that commanded every fiber of their attention. "You have seen what you will become. Now, you will learn why."

He gestured, and behind him, the translucent screen flickered. The war simulation images vanished, replaced by the horrifying footage Nicolau had witnessed just days before: emaciated human bodies hooked to tubes, shriveled husks in glass chambers, grotesque reptilian faces leering. The Krill. The monsters.

A wave of murmurs, this time of horror and revulsion, swept through the lounge. Some men gagged. Others recoiled, their faces paling. "What... what is that?" Miguel whispered, his earlier excitement replaced by raw terror.

Ciano’s voice cut through the rising panic, harsh and unyielding. "These are the Krill! The true masters of this planet! Not governments, not corporations, not the cartels! These... things... have enslaved humanity for millennia! They feed on us! They drain our very essence, our blood, for their immortality! They are the reason our world is broken, why there is suffering, why there is endless war! They hide in the shadows, pulling the strings, treating us like cattle in their farms!"

He let the images linger for a moment, letting the horror sink into their souls. Then, with a flick of his hand, the images vanished, replaced by a stark, black screen.

Ciano’s voice rose, no longer just commanding, but resonating with the raw, righteous fury that burned within him. "They have harvested our brothers and sisters! They have mocked our prayers, defiled our lands, and turned our very lives into a resource for their monstrous appetites! Your families, your children, your wives... they are all just meat to these demons!"

He spread his arms wide, his voice reaching a crescendo. "But no more! Today, the darkness ends! We are not just men of the favelas! We are not just soldiers of the cartel! We are the chosen! The faithful! The Praetoriani! God has blessed us with a power they cannot comprehend!"

He clenched his fist, his voice a hammer blow. "You have seen the proof! You have felt the power of faith! It is not just a shield against their bullets, but a weapon against their very being! We will cleanse this world! We will hunt them down, from the deepest jungle to the farthest stars!"

His voice dropped to a grim, resolute growl, echoing the litany of a holy war. "They bleed. We will make them bleed! They harvest. We will make them pay the harvest! They have taken our lives. We will take their future!"

He looked at each man, his eyes burning with an almost supernatural intensity. "There is no turning back! There is no surrender! Only faith! Only fire! Only victory! For our families! For our God! For humanity!" He paused, letting the silence scream with their fate.

"You will be trained to your absolute limits! Every weakness burned away! Every fear shattered! Your bodies will be reforged, crafted into living weapons! You will know power, strength, and resilience beyond human comprehension! And when your training is complete, your bodies will wear these armors, not just as protection, but as a mantle of judgment, to slay our enemies, the enemies of mankind, wherever they hide!"

He let his gaze sweep over every single recruit, his voice thundering with finality. "Will you be a part of the Praetoriani Siderum Order?! Will you be the blade of God?!" fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

A beat of stunned silence. Then, a single, guttural shout erupted from Cortez, his eyes blazing. "FOR GOD! FOR HUMANITY!"

Then, like a dam breaking, the lounge erupted. A roar of shouts, a primal scream of fury and conviction. "FOR GOD!" "FOR HUMANITY!" "PRAETORIANI!" Fear was still there, but it was now overshadowed by a burning, zealous resolve. They looked at the armors, at Ciano, at each other. They were no longer just men; they were warriors of faith, ready to wage a holy war against the unseen enemy.

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The 300 recruits were moved to the third level of the base, a sprawling bootcamp facility that Lina had meticulously prepared long ago. The air here was taut with purpose, the gleaming walls and precise lighting a stark contrast to the chaotic jungle they’d left behind.

For the first week, the recruits were eased into their new lives in their quarters. They were free to do as they pleased, with entertainment hubs, food replicators providing endless, nutritious meals, state-of-the-art gyms, and even pleasure androids, just to name a few of the amenities.

It was a calculated technique to make them feel more traditionalized to their new home, a stark contrast to their old lives, allowing them to adapt and accept the base as a sanctuary.

During this week of initial acclimatization and ’rest,’ Ciano’s blood and gene modification continued to be pushed further by Lina. This second phase of his genetic therapy was designed to open a specific part of his psionic gene conduit, allowing him to absorb ambient energy directly through fervent zeal and unwavering resolve. He was also modified to not feel fear, his fight-or-flight response recalibrated.

This created an energy resonance gene, one that responded to powerful emotions like strong empathy and a deep sense of justice. It was a gene that activated and flowed with psionic energy, fueled and amplified by his emotional aura. Ciano was becoming a living battery, an emotional amplifier.

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