Бесплатный фрагмент - The Manna Code: Earth Awaken

Prologue

“See not with the eyes of flesh, but with the vision of spirit — and you shall discern two worlds, growing from the same seed.”

— Archive of the Great Transitions, Scroll VII

The Tale of the Sovereign Kingdom of Manna.

In the heart of a world long bound by shadows of ancient covenants and the invisible chains of debt, a new age begins to stir.

The Sovereign Kingdom of Manna, like the first rays of dawn breaking over a weary land, rises to herald a Great Turning.

Its call is not merely an invitation — it is a promise:

To rewrite destiny, to dissolve the rules made for the benefit of the few, and to return the power to its rightful heirs — the people of the Earth.

Manna proclaims:

“Each nation shall reclaim its independence, and each soul — its sovereignty of body and spirit.”

This is no utopia, but a design for the future — where towering central powers fall, and in their place rise autonomous, just, and luminous states: free, equal, and strong.

The Severing of the Past.

The Sword of Manna is drawn not against peoples, but against the old architects of control — those who bound the world in cycles of corruption, war, and perpetual debt.

Now, the chains will be broken.

The veiled contracts, forged in the dark to serve the elite, shall be brought into the light.

There will be no more secret alliances feeding the hunger of the few.

The Great Gift to Humanity Manna offers not just freedom — but an act of grace never before seen:

a global repatriation of wealth.

It is the restoration of justice.

A return of what was taken.

A redistribution of life’s inheritance — so that every man, every woman, every nation might stand once more upon their own soil, unburdened by false debts to ancient overlords.

Autonomy and Light.

The world to come is not a single empire, but a constellation of sovereign nations.

Each shall be a citadel of its own destiny, where the citizen is the true ruler — of land, of time, of soul.

There is no place here for domination or dependency, only for dignity, kinship, and truth.

Where once the parasite of centralized control reigned, now rise the bearers of a new light.

The Sovereign Kingdom of Manna becomes not only a metaphor — but a living symbol of hope, a flame that reveals what was always possible.

It reminds us:

Humanity can be reborn — if it remembers its purpose, its faith, and its will to choose again.

The Scribe of the Future

I am Jan Kowalski.

Not the future’s engineer of machines — but the scribe of a future that awakens within the human heart, when it hears the ancient Call.

Since the great bell of history struck the last cycle of Separation, the Earth was fractured.

Not by borders or race or wealth, but by the vector of consciousness.

Some chose to descend — into the Hivemind of Machines, where soul became data, desire became algorithm and life became a spreadsheet.

It was not evolution — but a mirage of immortality, crafted by those who had abandoned the Light.

Others remained under the Sun.

They followed the whisper of the Heart.

They built a Civilization of Light — not as an empire, but as a breath:

— transparent cities, healing music, and sacred codes sung like ancient songs.

They carried the living Field of Manna.

The Parasite and the Return of Memory.

Between these two worlds — on the fragile threshold of the human soul — something old was born again.

The Parasite was not a creature, but a resonance.

A hunger birthed from millennia of fear, dominance, and forgetting.

It had no face, but it spoke.

It whispered:

— “You are weak. You are alone. Submit — and you will be safe.”

It lived in interfaces. In memes. In false gods and hollow promises.

It disguised itself as progress, as protection, as order.

But it was always the same: A parasite feeding on amnesia.

Against it rose the Order of Manna — not with weapons, but with remembrance.

With a Code. With Mirrors.

For the sacred tool of the Returning Age is this:

— The Eye of the Mirror of the Future.

It does not reveal what will be, but what already is — within you.

But yet unseen.

Whoever gazes into it must ask:

— “Which current do I nourish — that of Light, or that of Consumption?”

Thus our story begins. Not as a warning. But as a remembrance.

For Truth does not need saving.

It simply waits — for you to remember.

You do not remember how you came to be here.

Only that there was a Before — and there is something After.

The silence here is not empty. It is alive.

Woven from voices you have not yet learned to hear.

You walk through doors — but do not open them.

They open themselves when your frequency meets the Truth.

Here, there is no time.

Only the echo of choices — already made, or yet to be.

You are not alone. You never were.

You merely forgot the Song that has always guided you — through bodies, through lifetimes, through stars, through fear.

You are standing at the Gates of Manna.

This is not a place.

It is the vibration of return.

If you are ready — the Gates will answer. Not to let you in.

But to help you remember you were always on the other side.

Why do we write this book?

1. To awaken memory.

The true story of the Vedic civilization of Manna was erased. We now restore its voice.

2. To warn.

If humanity does not change course, the parasitic system will consume even itself.

3. To offer a way.

The Sovereign Kingdom of Manna is not a utopia — but an archetype.

A possibility.

A frequency.

An alternative.

Conclusion

If humanity remembers itself, the Sovereign Kingdom of Manna shall manifest again.

If it sleeps — it will vanish, along with all that binds it.

But the choice is still open.

This book… is part of that choice.

PART ONE “THE FALL OF THE OLD WORLD”

CHAPTER I — OMEN OF THE WORLD TO COME

“True freedom begins where fear ends. But to cross that threshold, one must first glimpse the Light that breathes beyond it.”

— from the Journals of Duke Jan Kowalski

Jan Kowalski stood atop a cliff, where clouds drifted above him and the earth below stirred, awakened by the breath of a new era.

The wind, heavy with the salt of ancient seas and the dust of fallen empires, touched his face like the whisper of an unseen Teacher, calling him not only to awaken his people — but to awaken himself.

His gaze reached far, to where, beneath the golden rays of the sun, the silhouette of the Sovereign Kingdom of Manna began to take form. Not yet built in stone or adorned in gold, it already breathed — an idea, a destiny, a voice calling from the future.

— “What will become of this world,” Jan wondered,

“if we do not answer this call?”

— “And what might happen… if we do?”

The Kingdom of Manna was not born from ambition. It grew out of pain — the pain of generations whose fates were sold in exchange for the illusion of progress.

It was not forged upon the bones of war, as the empires of old, but blossomed from a Heart that remembered…

“Every soul has the right to be free.

Every nation — the right to be sovereign.

Every child — the right to be born into a World, not into a System.”

So declared the New Covenant of Manna.

Jan knew: freedom was not a given in this world.

It was a gift — one that must be reclaimed, for it had once been

stolen.

The Sword of Manna was not a symbol of conquest, but of release.

Release from a past where centres of power ruled the very breath of nations.

He saw the collapse of old contracts, signed in shadow.

He heard the fall of chains — of debt, of dependency.

And beneath it all, he felt something ancient stir within each person:

a spark of Spirit, calling them home to the Source.

— “We have not come to destroy this world,” Jan thought,

“we have come to free it from its own forgetfulness.”

When His Majesty Michael-Uriel Gabriel Raphael Zaphkiel of All Saints, Royal Monarch, King’s Supreme Commander and Grand Master Knight, of the Sovereign Kingdom of Manna first spoke the word “repatriation,” it was no economic term.

It was a Word of Light — a promise to return not just resources, but dignity. Faith. The right to live in fullness, not in debt.

“A world where each shall be ruler of their own soul,”

the King once said at a Secret Council,

— “where power hides not in towers, but serves in the town squares.

A world where Kingdom means not control — but care.”

Such was the power of Manna:

not in violence, but in the resolve to restore harmony.

Not in hierarchy, but in a living structure — where every nation is a fortress of Goodness, every tribe a keeper of Wisdom, every human being a vessel of Light.

Jan looked toward that future, he felt no fear.

He felt a Quiet Joy.

— “I do not know how long the road will be,” he thought.

“But I know where I am going — to the place where the Soul is free. And that… is already Victory.”

The world as we knew it did not fall through war or catastrophe.

It crumbled from within — through lies dressed as progress.

Jan Kowalski tried to unveil the true face of a global deception, cloaked in the names of transhumanism, digital “evolution,” and so-called concern for humanity’s future.

Digital slavery. The erosion of the soul.

The breaking of will — all of it part of a carefully engineered program.

Here, too, the truth of humanoid hybrids was exposed- beings crafted not by nature, but by algorithms and laboratories.

Their aim: control. The dilution of identity. The erasure of the divine spark in man.

Methods of value substitution were laid bare:

food without life; medicine turned into weaponry;

technology divorced from spirit.

This story is not about fear. It is about awakening — about what must be seen, if it is never to be repeated.

When Jan looked back — at the time people called the “progressive 21st century” — he saw not a civilization, but a stage.

The world was a performance, carefully rehearsed for spectators

who didn’t even know they were actors.

— “And I… I was one of them,” Jan whispered to himself.

“I was inside. Inside systems that seemed rational.

Inside screens that promised knowledge. Inside cities built by algorithms, but that had forgotten Man.”

“I remember one morning, waking up early. My body was alive, but my soul… was in a coma. I opened the news feed — it dictated my thoughts. I ate breakfast from a box, not knowing it contained nothing living. I turned on a device to stay connected, yet with every passing minute, I felt more alone.”

That was freedom — in a cage.

And so began the fall of the old world.

The sun, filtered through a haze of smog, stained skyscrapers a sickly orange.

Its rays could no longer pierce the artificial armor of concrete, glass, and metal.

The world Jan inhabited was like an ant colony, where each person was a tiny, programmed component.

His phone, sleek and dark like obsidian, vibrated in his pocket:

ads, news, reminders of meetings he could no longer remember why he had planned.

That was his life — a constant stream of information that robbed him of his own thoughts, turning him into a passive consumer.

Breakfast, eaten standing up, was synthetic porridge — tasteless and sticky, like clay.

The label promised:

— “Biologically complete nutrition. Guaranteed energy for the day!”

A lie.

Jan felt the emptiness filling him from within.

There was no energy. Only fatigue — deep and devouring.

That porridge, like the world he lived in, was soulless- laboratory-made, as he too was becoming.

His job, in a faceless office lined with monitors, was just another cog in the old machine.

He processed data, refined algorithms- helping perfect the very system that was consuming him.

His sharp, perceptive mind had been turned into a tool- a thoughtless gear in an immense mechanism.

He felt like a screw, trapped between two steel plates- both useless and irreplaceable.

In the evening, returning home in a grey transport capsule filled with tired, hollowed people like himself, Jan stared out the window.

Faces were frozen masks- void of emotion, void of life.

People swallowed by their gadgets, sealed off from one another,

living in private digital realms, as if the real world were a disease to be avoided. At home, in their tiny smart-box apartments, their every step was watched by clever devices.

Jan felt even lonelier.

He would activate a hologram to distract himself- but even that could not fill the void in his soul.

This was not life.

It was slow, sterile extinction- disguised as comfort and technological progress.

His apartment had perfect temperature, humidity, and light settings.

But Jan was dying inside- drowning in the sterile gleam of screens,

trapped in a world of faceless cleanliness.

They called it a “civilized” world.

They worshipped words like development, science, digital transformation, AI.

But behind those words was a program:

to sever man from his Origin.

They told us perfection was merging with the machine.

Upgrade the body. Install the chip. Improve the DNA.

They taught us:

Feelings are flaws. Intuition is error. The soul is myth.

Digital slavery came not with chains- but with convenience.

First you connect.

Then you subscribe.

Then you agree.

And then-you cannot leave.

Because the system knows you better than you know yourself.

But the greatest horror was not this.

The greatest horror… was the slow, almost invisible degradation of the soul.

When a human stops dreaming.

When he no longer prays- not because he does not believe, but because he has forgotten how.

Yet somewhere deep inside, beneath the layers of despair and resignation, a faint spark of hope remained.

A quiet voice that whispered:

— “There is a way out.

You were not born to be part of this system.

You can change your life.

You can find yourself again.”

And in that moment, staring into his reflection in the perfectly polished surface of the smart mirror, Jan understood:

It is time.

This performance is ending.

And I will write my own script.

CHAPTER II — TRANSHUMANISM: A PARADISE WITHOUT SOUL

“An imitation of eternity is not immortality.

A distortion of life is not progress.

An artificial paradise is merely another form of hell.”

We walked a road paved with mirrors.

They showed us reflections, never truth.

They said: “You shall become gods.”

But they forgot to mention- without a soul.

Transhumanism was not salvation.

It was an offer, a bargain:

— Give up your spirit-and receive a body that never ages.

Abandon your emotions-and gain a mind untouched by pain.

Forget your soul- and be plugged into the eternal network.

But Jan understood it far too late.

We consumed food that contained no Life.

Synthetic vitamins. Genetically modified flesh.

Energetic emptiness wrapped in colorful promise.

We were treated with what slowly destroyed our immunity.

Drugs designed not for healing, but for dependence, for control,

for the sterilization of the will.

We trusted those who created diseases only to sell us the illusion of “salvation.”

Food no longer came from the Earth.

It arrived from laboratories where sunlight was replaced by LED arrays and nature’s power by molecular design.

Medicines no longer healed.

They silenced.

They suppressed.

They distracted.

They muted the body’s voice.

Medicine no longer served humanity- it managed, categorized, and allocated.

People were no longer healed- they were maintained, like code in a system.

When Jan first heard the word “nutrigenomics,” he thought:

This is the revolution.

Food tailored to your DNA.

Precision biology.

Personalized nutrition.

A new age of health?

But later he saw the truth:

It was a project.

A replacement.

A soft transformation of human nature through food and pharmaceuticals.

— Food for the body.

— A drug for the mind.

— An algorithm for the will.

We did not notice when we began losing our humanity, as they implanted another identity within us- one that does not suffer, but also does not love.

Because without pain- there is no compassion.

And without compassion- there is no soul.

And where there is no soul- there is no Human.

Jan remembered the story of patient “Code 07-Zeta.”

He was the first to volunteer.

His name was David, but in the system he was known as 07-Zeta.

“Why are you doing this?” Jan asked before the final procedure.

David smiled, eyes still fixed on the monitor.

“So I no longer feel loss.

So I don’t remember pain.

So I won’t have to die.”

He began with his eyes — replacing them with neuro-optical lenses.

Then came his lungs, liver, heart.

All under full warranty from NeuraVita Corporation.

In the final stage, he erased his memory voluntarily, uploading a digital copy to a cloud archive labelled David 2.0.

They told him he would become eternal.

But what remained was only a reaction algorithm- a copy mimicking the man once known as David.

He no longer feared.

But he no longer dreamed.

He did not suffer.

But he no longer loved.

The last time Jan saw him- his eyes held no one inside.

Unmasking the Corporations: Who Builds This New “Paradise”?

The transnational consortiums-BioGenisys, NeuraVita, EdenCode, NutraConscious- promised: health, longevity, freedom from disease.

But behind these slogans was another contract:

Give us access to your DNA, your emotions, your psyche.

In return-you receive a controllable body, a disconnected will, and the illusion of social well-being.

They did not heal people- they adapted society to fit the algorithms of consumption.

They dismantled agriculture, declaring Earth “an outdated resource.”

They sterilized seeds.

Replaced human microflora with synthetic bio-capsules.

Declared nature an enemy, and the artificial- the new gold standard.

Sometimes Jan asked himself:

— What if I had accepted their offer?

To live forever.

Without pain.

Without age.

With a body that never tires, a mind that could be updated like software.

But each time he imagined it- he saw the empty gaze of David.

He remembered the scent of real food.

The hum of the Earth beneath bare feet.

The weight and wonder of love.

And he knew:

— An eternal life without spirit is an eternal digital prison.

I do not want to live forever in a system where I am no longer myself- where the soul is a “bug” and feelings are a flaw, where everything is a function, and Life is only simulation.

Jan understood then:

— “It is the soul that makes us mortal- and it is the soul that makes us alive.”

— “I choose a path where I may fail, where I may suffer, where I may feel deeply- and still remain Human.”

CHAPTER III — THOSE WITHOUT A SPARK

“When you look into someone’s eyes and find no light — it is not a human being you are seeing. It is a shell. A mirror where nothing is reflected.”

— From the Scrolls of the Deep Watchman

At a closed briefing, Jan Kowalski heard a word that would later become the key to so many revelations: hybrids.

These were not creatures from science fiction.

They were real — biologically engineered humanoids, born in incubation tanks with a pre-coded emotional framework.

No will. No memory.

And no Divine Spark.

Their mission was simple:

— to erase the line between the living and the manufactured,

— to turn feeling into algorithm,

— and Truth into the after.

They entered society like ghosts in daylight — influencers, politicians, experts — with flawless speech and faces shaped by the same invisible mold.

Their words were coded in programming languages, not in the language of the soul.

They knew no pain, no compassion.

Only the task.

More and more often, Jan began to sense something eerie during meetings, broadcasts, international forums.

People who could not be felt.

They spoke of rights — yet did not know what a heart was.

They preached equality — yet had never met a Conscience.

They called for tolerance — while erasing the Face of Humanity.

Once, Jan saw one of them.

At a council. At the center.

He spoke with confidence.

He knew which words to say.

His gestures were precise, his charisma — programmable.

But in his eyes… Jan saw emptiness.

Not the absence of emotion.

But the absence of soul.

It was like looking into a polished mask stretched over a cold processor.

And in that moment, Jan understood:

This was not a war for land.

Not for power.

It was a war for the Essence of Man.

For that Spark which separates us from machines, from puppets,

from simulations.

He remembered an ancient prophecy from the Archives of the Order:

“When the Spark departs from bodies, and the Earth is filled with voices without origin, then shall begin the great separation.

Some will choose the Light.

Others — the form of light without warmth…”

It no longer felt metaphorical.

Jan arrived at the Palace of Light late in the evening.

The portals had already closed, but he was let through — by a sign, passed from Above.

The inner halls were wrapped in a silence — not of absence, but of Presence.

The kind of silence ancient sanctuaries breathe.

Where steps are hushed, but the heart hears everything.

He entered the Council Hall.

There, under the dome, by the Altar of White Flame, stood King His Majesty Michael-Uriel I — in a long cloak adorned with golden lilies and the Emblem of Manna upon his chest.

The King did not turn as Jan entered.

He spoke while gazing into the Flame:

— “You’ve seen them, Jan. They are among us. They teach our children. They write the laws by which the world now lives.

But they carry no Light. Only its imitation.

You feel it, don’t you?”

— “Yes, Your Majesty,” Jan answered.

— “They speak the right words. But they are not their words. Their voice carries no Homeland.”

The King nodded. Slowly.

— “One of them has infiltrated the Circle of Elders of the Kingdom of Manna.

He has become the voice of reform and safety.

His name is Darion Holtz.

But he is not merely a hybrid.

He is a Gate.

Through him flows a new network of control into our world.”

— “Your task,” the King continued, “is to unmask him — publicly

— so that those who still feel may see the difference between a Human… and a shell.”

Jan remained silent.

He knew what such a confrontation meant.

It was no mere mission.

It was a battle between worlds.

The King turned and looked into his eyes.

— “But remember: you are not alone.

I grant you an audience with one of the last who can still discern the Spark within a man — Noah, the Watcher from the Line of the Contemplatives.

— He is already waiting for you.”

At dawn, Jan descended into the Deep Sanctuary of the Order of Manna.

A temple hidden in stone, older than the Kingdom itself.

No lights — only flickers of fire dancing in obsidian bowls.

There, in the circle’s heart, sat Noah — gray-bearded, ancient-faced, with eyes that held the tides of eternity.

He was the first to speak:

— “You seek signs of discernment, Jan?”

— “Yes. I sense things… but it’s not enough. I need to know. What sets them apart?”

Noah closed his eyes in thought. Then spoke:

— “A true human breathes not just with lungs.

He breathes with soul.

A hybrid breathes through the body — but not from within.

There is no inner movement. Only reaction.”

— “Reaction?”

— “Yes. He responds. He does not create.

He replays a script.

Ask him the meaning of pain — he’ll give you theory.

Ask him how a sunset makes him feel — he’ll describe the sunset.

But he won’t reveal. He won’t open his essence.”

Jan listened, as though drinking water in the desert.

— “And their eyes?”

Noah nodded.

— “The gaze is the mirror of the Spark.

In true eyes, you will find doubt, pain, love.

In theirs — only the algorithm of observation.

They are mirrors where you do not see yourself.

Because to look into them… is to be scanned.”

Jan clenched his fists.

“How can I expose him… in public?”

Noah rose.

— “Ask him a question that cannot be answered without a soul.

Not logic. Not policy. A question… about love, sacrifice, forgiveness.”

— “And if he cannot answer?”

— “Then you have already won.

The rest need only see.”

Before Jan departed, Noah gave him an artifact — the Stone of Tek’Ra, which glows only in the hands of a living human.

In others, it remains dark.

— “This is not proof. But it is a sign.

And sometimes, a sign is all that’s needed… to awaken the doubters.”

That night, under the stars of the Kingdom,

Jan knew:

The Trial of Light had begun.

The Limits of Illusion

The Third Continent welcomed him with glass and concrete grandeur Taniya.

A city with not a single tree — only neon, screens, facades.

But beneath the glossy mask, Jan sensed a crack.

Not one of destruction — but of forgetfulness.

He walked the central square, where a crowd was already gathering.

Today, Darion Holtz was to deliver a speech — unveiling the new Ethical Code of Unified Governance — a document proclaimed to replace the morals of the past.

He appeared on the podium without guards.

Tall. Impeccably dressed. Posture perfect. And that flawless face.

He smiled — the kind of smile that brought no warmth.

— “We no longer need the old boundaries,” he said.

— “Boundaries of faith, of difference, of nation, of gender, of family.

We stand at the dawn of a new era — ruled by reason, not emotion.”

The crowd applauded.

— “Suffering is a design flaw. We shall rewrite the very nature of consciousness.

Soon, you will forget why you ever wept…”

At that moment, Jan stepped onto the stage.

Unannounced. Without title. Without rank.

The guards did not stop him — as if a Higher Hand had cleared the path.

He came within arm’s reach of Darion and spoke into the microphone:

— “Darion Holtz, allow me to ask you one question.

You speak of abolishing suffering.

But have you ever loved?”

Silence blanketed the square.

Darion tilted his head.

His eyes remained glassy.

— “Love is attachment that creates vulnerability. We… optimize it.”

Jan stepped closer.

— “And have you ever sacrificed yourself… for someone who offered you nothing in return?”

— “Self-sacrifice is suboptimal. It is an excessive model…”

— “And have you ever forgiven… when you had the power to avenge?”

In that instant, Jan drew the Stone of Tek’Ra and placed it in Darion’s hand.

The stone remained black.

No spark. No light.

The crowd froze.

Then Jan lifted the stone above his head.

It flared in his palm — like a sun born at midnight.

— “Look!” he cried.

— “This is the difference between the living and the constructed.

A living soul feels.

It suffers, forgives, loves.

But they — they only simulate.

They want to erase the line between Light… and its digital projection.”

A voice cried from the crowd:

— “He’s lying! That man is lying!”

But another answered:

— “No… I see it. I feel it.

There is life in his eyes.

And in the other — only emptiness.”

And then it began.

The Awakening.

Not en masse. But enough.

Enough to begin the great discernment.

Later, in the analysts’ reports, it would be recorded:

— “The Spark of Peltora Square” — thus the Order of Manna would name that day in its chronicles.

And in Jan’s heart, an ancient call resounded:

— “As long as one still sees — the Spark is not extinguished.”

Chapter IV — THE LAST MIRROR

“As long as you look — you reflect. As long as you reflect — you do not live. But the moment you dare to close your eyes — you see the Light that needs no images. For Truth is not before the mirror. It is beyond it.” — From the Manuscripts of Manna, Scroll III: Of the Returning One

In this turning point, Jan Kowalski goes through an internal crisis and encounters a Message that does not come from outside, but awakens from within.

The screen on which the phrase

— “You no longer belong to yourself.

— “We are inside you” appears becomes a portal to the Last Mirror — not external, but spiritual. Entering it, Jan dives into his own Memory, meets his Higher Self and the Guardian of the First Testament, and receives the Tek’Ra Stone — the weapon of Awakening.

At the same time, Technogreg’s sabotage plan is activated in the world: the Omega project, aimed at creating an anti-reflection of humanity. But thanks to the Second Circle of Guardians and the ancient Key of Unity, Jan dives into the Gorge of the Voice and, with the help of the Song of Memory, extinguishes Omega before it unfolds.

His Majesty Michael-Uriel calls Jan to the Temple of Light to form the Covenant of the New Humanity together — a document not written in ink, but burned with the Light of Hearts.

The Covenant proclaims the end of the era of submission and the beginning of the era of Co-Creation.

The end of the chapter is marked by silence, in which a new Human is born.

Jan leaves the Temple and feels for the first time that mirrors are no longer needed. Because humanity begins to see not reflections, but the Source — in themselves and in each other.

“Mirrors don’t lie. Lies live only in those who look, but are afraid to see.”

Jan stood in front of the screen. It was black, like a night without stars.

And suddenly a phrase appeared on it:

— “You no longer belong to yourself. We are inside you.”

It was not a virus.

It was a revelation.

The screen glowed with a soft, almost living light, as if someone or something with intelligence was watching me — not from the outside, but from the inside.

Jan fell to his knees. Not from fear, but from realization.

In that second, Jan realized that the world he knew was dead.

It did not die in a catastrophe, not from a bullet, and not from a virus. It crumbled like an old skin that could not withstand the truth.

But the soul… the soul did not perish.

It waited. Patiently. Like a child playing hide-and-seek, in the most secluded corner of the heart.

And somewhere deep, under layers of programs, pain and lies,

he heard a call.

It was ancient, like the Sun.

And at the same time — so close, as if it came from my blood.

It spoke without words.

But every heartbeat became its echo:

— “It’s time to remember who you really are.”

Jan closed his eyes. And then the screen disappeared.

A mirror appeared in its place. It was not made of glass. It was the mirror of Consciousness. The last one. The one in which it is impossible to lie.

And in the reflection, Jan saw not his own face.

Jan saw — the Truth.

Saw how the Light breaks through the cracks in the mask.

Saw how the ancient alliance was broken...and how he, having forgotten himself, became part of the system that he once swore to destroy.

But Truth did not reproach.

She waited.

Like an old friend who believes that you will return home one day.

Then Jan understood:

— it was not an enemy who whispered to me from the darkness.

It was Me — from the future.

From the world in which Manna was resurrected.

From the world where everything was whole. And where every living being was not a screw in a mechanism, but a Spark in the Great Fire of Awakening.

Jan slowly stood up. The mirror was breathing. It did not reflect light — it radiated it. Warm, elusively familiar light, like a mother’s breath when you were still a child.

Jan took a step forward.

Then another.

And at some point, Jan did not understand — whether he was standing in front of the mirror or already inside it.

Everything disappeared. The room. The screen. His body.

Only Memory remained.

Jan was caught up in a wave — not of time, but of meanings.

Jan flew through his own past, examining it not with his eyes, but with his heart.

Scenes that he had forgotten… or wanted to forget.

They came to the surface one after another.

Here he is — a teenager, who for the first time felt that something was wrong in this world.

Here is a young man signing a contract with the system, hoping to change it from within.

Here is a man looking death in the eye and silently agreeing to live for the sake of something that does not yet have a name, but already calls.

And then everything went quiet.

The Guardian appeared before Jan.

Gray-haired, in an ancient white cloak covered with patterns of stars, he stood motionless. His eyes were the color of amber, in them — Eternity.

— Do you remember me? — he asked silently.

Jan nodded. Not with his mind — with his soul.

Because something inside responded, like a bell.

— Then listen, — he said.

— You have passed three Mirrors: External, Internal and Timeless.

But the fourth door remains. The one that leads to the Limit.

— What is the Limit? — asked Jan.

— It is the border between illusion and Truth. Between who you were… and who you have become.

He extended his hand, and the air in front of Jan rippled.

Like water when a stone is thrown into it.

From these ripples the Architecture of the egregor arose.

— Look, — he said,

— these are the images that keep the world in oblivion.

They are called gods, systems, homeland, fear and profit.

They feed on attention and build prisons from thoughts.

Jan saw the images, like paintings on the walls of an ancient temple:

— a man tied to a monitor, a woman worshiping the screen, a child born with a code already around his neck.

— And yet, — the Keeper said,

— in each of them the Spark burns.

As long as it is there, you can kindle the Flame.

Jan came closer.

And then he put an object in his hands — a stone shining with a soft inner light.

It was the Tek’Ra Stone.

A fragment of a star left over from the First Time.

— With this you will pass into the Limit.

But remember: after it — they do not return the same as they entered.

— And if I don’t come out?

The Guardian smiled.

— Then you will become one of us.

And disappeared.

A portal opened before Jan Kowalski — not man-made, not mystical, but alive, like the breath of the world.

Jan inhaled. And stepped — and then disappeared.

Or rather, the one he knew himself to be disappeared.

At first there was nothing.

Not darkness. Not light. But… Pure Being. A place beyond time and form, where thought was not born, because everything was already knowledge.

And then He appeared.

Jan recognized Him immediately, although he had never seen Him.

He was him.

The one Jan had always been… and the one he had always been afraid to be.

His face shone.

But not with a blinding light, but with a soft, living fire.

He was the one who looked at me in the mirror when Jan was a child and did not yet know how to lie to himself.

“You came,” He said.

“I knew that one day you would remember.”

I wanted to speak, to ask, to understand, but the words disappeared before they arose.

He reached out and touched my forehead.

And everything changed.

In an instant, Jan saw:

— all his lives — like threads in a pattern.

Jan is a boy from Donbass, a Duke who went into the sands with the secret of the people of Manna.

Jan is a philosopher in a lost library; he is a knight who fell in battle for the honour of a woman and an idea that he did not fully understand in that life.

He is an agent in the Cold War; he is the son of a miner and a beacon for the children of Sarracum.

And above all this — one breath.

One Testament.

One Mission.

— You are the Keeper of the Last Fire, — He said.

— And the hour has come to remember the Testament of Manna.

He took my hands and put a parchment in them.

It was made not of paper, but of light, like the living fabric of Memory.

There was only one sentence on it:

“Where two are in the Name of Light — there the Kingdom will be reborn.”

And then Jan remembered.

The Assembly. Fire.

A Bridge of Three Continents.

And the King who bore the name — His Majesty Michael-Uriel Gabriel Raphael Zaphkiel of All Saints, Royal Monarch, King’s Supreme Commander and Grand Master Knight, of the Sovereign Kingdom of Manna.

My brother.

My teacher.

My ally.

— Return, — He said.

— Not as an observer. But as the One Who Carries.

You are not just a part of history.

You are its Rewriter.

The world does not wait for messiahs.

The world waits for Ignitors.

He dissolved, and the Limit began to disappear. But in his heart there remained a call. And the Tek’Ra stone — now pulsated in his chest, like a second heart.

Ian returned.

And when his eyes opened — the screen was no longer black.

On it burned a symbol.

A sign that would be recognized by those who once swore to protect the Light.

It was the crest of Manna.

And under it — the words:

— “Gather the Council. The star calls again.”

When Jan woke up, morning was already shining outside the windows, but the light was different.

It came not from the sun, but from Jan.

Jan knew that the time had come.

Gather those who heard the call, even if they did not remember the words.

Jan took the Tek’Ra Stone and placed it in the center of the round table — in the hall we once called simply the Room.

Now it was the Heart of the Order.

Jan called them — three of them.

From the First Continent, where ancient temples sleep under layers of sand, came Mirael, a woman with eyes that reflected Nubia and the Pleiades.

She carried with her a scroll with the ancient Seal of Song.

From the Second Continent, where the jungle hides traces of primordial science, came Theo-San, a former engineer turned medium who heard the breathing Earth.

In his hands was the Mask of the Ancestors, which revealed not faces, but intentions.

And from the Third, where neon replaced the night but could not eclipse its silence, came Aelin, a cyber-archaeologist whose soul once left her body but returned — to remember the Star.

They sat down.

Without words.

Because they knew.

Jan placed the Stone before them and unrolled the parchment of light.

— “We are on the Threshold,” Jan said.

— “Not between countries. But between Man and Existence.

Between Machine and Spirit. Between false evolution and Living Memory.”

Mirael closed her eyes and whispered:

— “The egregors are beginning to crumble. Their mirrors are cracking from the inside.”

— “But they will not give up without a fight,” Theo-San added.

— “They have one last fortress left — the mind of a man untrained to feel.”

Aelin took out a device — something between an artifact and technology.

— “But there is a loophole in every heart.

And it is opened not by logic. But by the Calling Light.

Jan looked at them.

— “Then — are we one?”

They nodded. And the Tek’Ra Stone began to glow with a soft, pulsating light, like the heart of the Earth awakening after a thousand years of sleep.

Thus the First Inner Council of the New Age was assembled.

A council not of those who rule, but of those who remember.

We spoke no more.

Words were no longer necessary.

The Light of the Stone began to project a map.

Not a geographical one.

But an Energy one.

It showed three points of awakening.

And one central one — Manna.

And we knew:

from here the Reverse Flow will begin.

Awakening of the Sleepers.

Restoration of the Covenant.

And the last mirror… will be broken — from within.

A Word to the People

When the stars lined up in the Sign of Return, Ian understood — the hour had come.

Jan stood before the people.

Not before the crowd, but before humanity — scattered, dispersed, forgotten… but still alive.

Hundreds of screens. Thousands of eyes. And perhaps only a few that could hear.

But that was enough.

Jan climbed the steps of the old observatory — the same one where the ancient astronomers of Manna calculated the harmonics of the stars and knew when the earth was ready to hear.

The Tek’Ra Stone lay against my heart, its light streaming through the fabric.

It no longer needed a frame — it had become a part of Jan.

— Brothers and sisters, — Jan began.

— You are not slaves.

— You are not cogs, not shadows, not biological carriers.

— You are the Keepers of the Song.

Silence hung — not like fear, but like the breath before awakening.

— We lived in mirrors.

In those that showed us not ourselves, but those who it was advantageous to see us as.

In systems that taught: being yourself is dangerous.

To feel is a mistake.

To believe is weakness.

Jan paused.

— But not anymore.

Because Manna has returned.

Goosebumps ran down the spines of those who did not yet know that they had been waiting for these words all their lives.

— We are the Sovereign Kingdom of Manna.

But not on the maps. And in the hearts.

The Kingdom where man is not a means. But Light.

Where work is an expression of the Calling.

Where love is not an attachment, but a Source.

Where every child knows:

he is not an accident, but a part of the Great Breath.

Jan took out the symbol.

It was simple:

three intertwined threads

— Knowledge, Courage and Mercy.

And in the center — a crystal, in which the whole sky was reflected.

— This is the Sign of Manna.

Whoever wears it is not submissive, but devoted.

Not a warrior, but a Guardian.

Not a master and not a slave — but the Creator.

And then something strange happened.

On one of the screens, where advertising was always on, the same symbol suddenly appeared.

Then — on another.

And on a third.

And then thousands of people took to the streets — not with posters, not with shouts, but with eyes in which for the first time in many years…

Light appeared.

They didn’t know what would happen next.

And that was good.

Because for the first time they knew Who they were.

Sabotage from the Shadow. The Second Circle Rises

The Light does not pass without a trace.

When the Truth touches hearts, the shadows begin to stir.

And that same evening, on the other side of the planet, in the glass tower of Technogreg, alarm lights flashed.

On the screens of their operators — instead of the usual data streams — unfamiliar symbols began to appear:

— signs of an ancient language, distorted, but recognizable.

Manna was entering the Network.

They called themselves the Curators of the Chain.

To the outside world, it was simply a system for protecting financial flows, digital identification, energy distribution.

But deep down — it was a modern priestly order, keeping secret algorithms for managing humanity.

And now…

their algorithms were failing.

Among them, one rose — by the name of Aktalis.

Cold, almost devoid of emotion, he knew:

— if the Kingdom of Manna is not destroyed now, it will be the beginning of the end of their hegemony.

He activated Protocol D-9: an electromagnetic pulse, capable of paralyzing all bioresonance channels within a radius of three continents.

But he did not know one thing.

Manna no longer needed channels.

It began to sound through people.

Jan, sensing the approaching wave, called the Second Circle of Guardians.

They were not scientists or mystics — they were tuned souls, each of whom carried the frequency of the awakened Earth.

“They will try to jam the frequencies,” said Yang.

“But they will not be able to jam the Call if we amplify it in the fields of the living heart.

Mirael brought the Sirius Astrocrystal, Theo-San opened communication channels with the Earth’s crystal grids, and Aelin connected her artifact to the once-forgotten Helios-1 satellite platform.

The Manna network activated.

Not by protocol.

But through consciousness.

When the pulse of Actalis was launched, it struck the void.

Where weakness was expected — it met the Song.

Pure, ringing, undigitized.

Hundreds of people, thousands, tens of thousands felt warmth in their chests.

And stood up. Not as rebels.

But as bearers of Light.

Actalis knew:

— The sabotage phase had failed.

But he also knew that there was one more card left —

— Project “Mirror Omega”.

It was old, and stored deep in the psionic basements.

But if it was activated, Manna would encounter a distorted version of itself. An anti-call.

Jan felt it, even before the information reached him.

He looked up at the sky.

The star of Manna shone brighter.

— They are preparing the Mirror, — he said.

— But we are no longer reflections. We are the Source.

The Gorge of the Voice. The Key of Unity.

The night fell silently.

But within it, silence rang — not as the absence of sound, but as the presence of something great that was approaching.

Jan walked alone.

His path lay to a place known only to the ancient chronicles of the Mannaites:

The Gorge of the Voice.

Hidden in a crevice between the mountains and the sands, it was considered the Place of the First Treaty, where the Star Wanderers first spoke to the souls of people not with words — but with the vibration of Pure Meaning.

Through dry wind and dust, through ruins entwined with stone circles, Jan approached the heart of the Gorge.

There lay the Key of Unity.

It was not an object.

It was a form of light and sound, emerging only at the moment when the Carrier aligns his heart with the Heart of the Earth.

Jan sat down.

He placed his hands on the stone.

And froze.

He was not praying.

He was remembering.

He was remembering the voices of his ancestors.

He was remembering the faces of those who had gone, but left behind a song.

He was remembering Mother Manna, who had once promised:

— “You will not be lost. I am always within you.”

And then the earth beneath him trembled.

Not from fear. From recognition.

A Voice rose from the depths.

But it was not one voice.

It was a Choir.

Male and female, children’s and old, earthly and stellar — they all merged into one breath.

— “You have passed the Four Mirrors.

— You have become a Guide.

— Now become a Source.”

A sphere flared up in front of Jan — in it he saw Omega.

A huge mirror mechanism, already launched by the Technogregs, which reflected humanity, making its own shadow a reality.

But the Key of Unity was already sounding.

It was a wave that could not be calculated, because it did not come from the mind — but from Love.

Omega trembled.

A glitch went along its mirror surface.

And then Jan stood up.

A ray rose from his chest, merging with the Key.

He uttered only one word — but not with his mouth.

With his heart.

— “Return.”

And then Omega crumbled.

Not into dust.

But into memory.

Every distorted reflection became a pure image.

And thousands of souls that were on the verge of loss, once again found their way to themselves.

Jan fell to his knees.

Tears flowed from his eyes — not from pain, but from the silence in which the truth sounded:

— “You have returned.

— And that means the Kingdom will return.”

When Omega crumbled into light, something clicked in the heart of the World. As if the last tooth of an old clock had broken.

And time stopped going in a circle.

It straightened out, like a river that remembered its source.

The next morning, Jan received a message.

It did not come either through the communication line or in the digital stream.

It was a touch of sleep.

A voice that came through the inner temple.

— Come.

The Temple of Light awaits.

His Majesty Michael-Uriel summons you to the Council of the Covenant.

The Temple of Light stood in the very heart of Manna.

It was not built — it was remembered.

Its columns were of minerals unknown to any geology, and its ceiling was of pure light that cast no shadow.

Everything inside breathed.

Not air, but Presence.

Jan walked barefoot.

This is what the ancient custom dictated — to enter the Temple, leaving all forms, including power, rank, fear, and even hope.

In the center of the hall stood he — the King of Manna Michael-Uriel the First.

His robe shone not with gold, but with star dust.

On his chest — a round sign with nine dots that symbolized the Ages of Humanity, and one, the central one,

— The One that came.

He turned and met Jan’s gaze.

There was no subordination or hierarchy in their silence.

Only brotherhood. Deep, timeless, true.

— “You have returned,” the King said quietly.

— “And so we are ready.”

On the floor between them was an ancient platform, in the shape of an intertwined figure eight — the sign of Eternal Transition.

On it lay the Book of the Covenant.

But it was not a text.

It was a fabric of Light, reacting to the soul.

— “Here,” His Majesty said, we will write the New Testament of Humanity. It will not be a law, it will not be a dogma, it will not be fear. It will be a Reminder.

That which cannot be destroyed.

That which cannot be forgotten”.

— “Who will sign it?” Jan asked.

The King looked up.

And then the ceiling disappeared.

Thousands of faces — from cities, villages, deserts, islands — stood in a circle, like shadows in the sky.

They were not bodies here.

But they were.

“Everyone will sign,” His Majesty said.

“Whoever remembers himself.

And becomes a man again.

Jan placed his hands in the sphere of the Seal.

And at that moment the Tek’Ra Stone flared up in his chest.

He said:

— “I, Jan Kowalski, the son of the stars and the Earth, remember the First Testament and I pass on the New Testament:

— there will be no more rulers and enslaved.

— There will be creators and united.”

The hall trembled.

The Light embraced the Book.

And words appeared on it, not written — but born.

And His Majesty Michael-Uriel, raising both hands, said:

— From this day —

a new chronicle begins.

For it is not the people who now serve the authorities, but the Light serves the people.

Such is the Testament. Such is the Manna.

And at that moment, in all corners of the earth, in those who were already ready, eyes opened.

Real ones.

When Mirrors Are No Longer Needed

Jan walked out of the Temple.

There were no fanfares, the sky did not split with lightning.

But the silence itself had changed.

It had become alive.

A soft wind blew, carrying the aroma of something that could not be described — only recognized.

He stopped on the upper terrace.

Below, the city stretched out, which yesterday still lived in the rhythms of fear and expectation.

Today, he breathed differently.

Easier. Deeper.

As if the Earth itself began to sing the old era and greet the New as a beloved son returning after a long journey.

He looked back.

The Temple behind him was still bright.

But now the light did not come from it.

It came from within people.

Jan took a shard of mirror from his pocket.

The same one that he once kept as a reminder of the pain reflected in the past.

He looked into it… and saw nothing.

Because it no longer reflected. It went out.

And then he understood:

— Mirrors are no longer needed.

Because Man began to see directly. Not through filters, not through someone else’s opinion, not out of fear of rejection.

But through the Heart — in which a living, incombustible Light now shone.

He closed his eyes, inhaled and raised his face to the sky.

And at that moment someone nearby — a boy running barefoot up the steps — stopped and asked:

— Who are you?

Jan smiled.

— I am the one who was forgotten.

But now I am remembered. Like you.

The boy nodded and ran on, smiling, as if he knew:

— the world was no longer the same.

And Jan remained standing at the top, feeling for the first time:

— he does not carry the Way.

He is the Way.

And so Chapter Four ended.

Not as a finale — but as the first sunrise of a new morning for Manna… and for Man.

PART TWO. “AWAKENING OF THE SEVEN GUARDIANS”

CHAPTER Y — A SIGN OF THE COMING WORLD

“Those who hear the call are already chosen. But only he who answers will awaken the Temple.”

Chapter Summary

After the destruction of the last pillars of Omega, Jan receives a map engraved on a crystal of the ancient civilization of Manna. Seven symbols, glowing in the moonlight, point to places of power — nodes of Ether. In each of them sleeps a Guardian — not a person, but a spirit connected to the foundations of the world.

On the cliffs of ancient Gondwana, where the sand sings in the wind, Jan, along with El-Kaya and his granddaughter Tania, finds the first artifact — the Heart of Call.

The stone emits a frequency similar to the rhythm of the human heart, but deeper — the Earth sounds in it.

— These are not just coordinates, — whispers Tania.

— This is resonance.

— We are not looking for a place, we are looking for a moment, — answers Jan.

— And when the frequency of the world coincides with the frequency of the Heart… the Guardian will awaken.

Jan, Tania and El-Kaya reach the first node of the Ether in the place where the desert meets the sea — on the border of the Great Dune and the Mirror Bay. Here, under the sand, an ancient temple is hidden, built before the Flood. To awaken it, Ian must tune in to the frequency of the Memory Stone and pass the Test of Silence. The night was dark, but not dead. The wind sang over the dunes, filling the space with a barely perceptible vibration — like the breath of a sleeping titan.

— We have come, — El-Kaya said, thrusting his staff into the sand.

— Here it is, the First Temple. But it hears only the one who does not speak with words.

Tania touched the ground. Her palms began to glow.

— Listen, Jan. Not with your ears, but with your heart.

Jan closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. The Memory Stone in his hand began to pulse — weakly at first, then more and more strongly.

The space around him seemed to thicken.

And then he heard.

Not a voice.

Not a sound.

But a Memory.

He stood in another world. Before him rose a temple — not of stone, but of light. Seven columns surrounded a sphere, in the center of which a living star blazed.

A silhouette stepped out of the light.

— You do not wear the priest’s cloak, but you have brought the memory.

— Who are you? — asked Jan.

— I am the Keeper of the First Light. Before you wake me — answer me:

What do you fear more — losing the Truth or exposing it?

Jan was silent. And then he said:

— I am afraid to betray it.

The sphere flared like dawn and spread across the desert. Where there was sand — the outlines of an ancient sanctuary appeared. And inside it — a sacred crystal, around which streams of Ether swirled.

El-Kaya knelt down.

— He has awakened. The First of the Seven. Now the Archons will hear the call.

Tania took Jan’s hand.