Dr. Xhith’raal had spent his life studying agriculture. As a leading biologist of the Ivory Spire Institute of Genetic Sciences, his research focused on the genetic optimization of crops to feed his species’ ever-growing civilization. They had harnessed the atom, conquered disease, and stood on the cusp of spaceflight; a golden age of scientific enlightenment beckoned.
But something was wrong… terribly wrong.
A mysterious decline had begun in the staple grain crops of the equatorial regions. The phenomenon defied explanation. Harvests shrank, despite perfect conditions. The most advanced fertilizers failed. And strangest of all, when samples were examined under a microscope, they revealed something impossible: all the grain contained microscopic boreholes, as if something had eaten it from the inside out.
The culprits were eventually identified – tiny weevils. It should have been an easily solvable problem. But no pesticide worked. No genetic modification deterred them. And they weren’t just consuming crops. No, they were proliferating, infesting silos across continents with unnatural speed.
Around the same time, astronomers at the Southern Observatory detected something strange: an echo.
Deep-space signals, bouncing from an unknown source beyond the stars, contained eerily familiar information – stolen transmissions from Earth: classified research, political negotiations held in secret, even personal correspondences never recorded beyond their intended recipients. The data was being leaked to the sky, but no one knew who or what was behind it.
At first, it was assumed to be some kind of espionage. But then, one of the lead scientists – a controversial researcher named Vra’thil – proposed a disturbing hypothesis:
“The signals aren’t coming from space. They’re coming from the ground.”
Meanwhile, back at his laboratory, Dr. Xhith’raal was still struggling with the agricultural crisis when desperate government officials approached him.
“You study biology,” they said. “Tell what you see here.”
They handed him a micrograph – a magnified image of one of the weevils. At first, it looked ordinary. But as Xhith’raal examined the fine details, a chill ran through him.
Weevil DNA had been engineered.
The mutations were too perfect, too precise, as if they had been guided by intelligence. The insects were not a natural species.
And then an official told him of Vra’thil’s discovery:
The signals bouncing into space? They matched the neurological activity of the weevils.
The tiny creatures weren’t just devouring their food supply at unprecedented rates.
They were communicating, coordinating their assault.
A clandestine project called Project Obsidian was launched to send a response.
Using the Southern Observatory’s powerful transmitters, a message was beamed into space, mirroring the strange deep-space echo. It was a simple question:
Who are you?
The answer came almost immediately.
“WE EVIL.”
“WE HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE.”
As Xhith’raal and Vra’thil dug deeper, the horrifying truth finally surfaced.
The Weevils were not invaders. They were the original rulers of the world, an ancient intelligence that had survived every extinction event since they first crawled from the shadows alongside the earliest beetles. They had watched as countless species rose and fell, subtly guiding the course of evolution – not for progress, not for balance, but to keep the world in a perpetual cycle – rising, thriving, and collapsing. Only they could remain eternal.
The revelation was too late.
The Troodons had never been in charge of their own destiny.
Every war, every scientific breakthrough, every famine and plague had been engineered to prevent them from growing too powerful, too independent. Now, with their civilization reaching for the stars, they had crossed a line.
The Weevils had decided it was time to start over.
The final transmission arrived.
“HARVEST BEGINS.”
The stars flickered. And the sky cracked open.
The Age of the Dinosaurs finally came to an end.
Story by Artnoob100