"We do not fear the threat, nor do we fear rising the sword, this land will rather be in ashes than invaded by a stranger."

- Väinö Lahja

Gaia, "New Scandinavia". June 22nd 2038.

The vast expanse of "New Scandinavia" was a land still in its infancy, where towering mountains and dense forests met vast plains. The temperature in this part of Gaia was similar to the colder climates of Sweden, with the sky often cloaked in clouds, a heavy mist curling over the snow-covered terrain. A light snow flurry danced through the air as the workers labored tirelessly to transform the wilderness into a functioning colony.

Olle Ekman, dressed in his thick cold-protection suit, adjusted his gloves as he worked, the chill of the air seeping through his gear. His breath came out in short bursts, visible in the air before dissipating into the wind. He and his fellow workers were involved in the monumental task of deforestation, cutting down the towering trees of Tyresta Forest—a place that had once stood untouched, now to be reduced to timber for the construction of roads and buildings.

The sound of chainsaws filled the air, each worker focused on their task. The whir of the saws, the crack of the trees splitting as they fell, created a rhythm. Nearby, others with axes chopped at the felled trunks, splitting them into manageable pieces. These were then hauled to waiting trucks by transport crews who worked relentlessly to clear the land. The land would be prepared for infrastructure, for the roads, homes, and facilities that would soon rise from the earth. The operation was meticulously organized, with everyone playing their part in the sprawling effort.

Support vehicles hummed and rumbled, a testament to the raw power of the industrial machines now at work on this alien soil. The Feller Bunchers—massive machines that could fell entire trees in a matter of minutes—buzzed around, cutting and gathering. Bulldozers plowed through the terrain, breaking apart rocks and boulders, while massive excavators dug deep into the earth, clearing dirt in massive scoops. Caterpillar trucks hauled the heavy loads, each piece of machinery working in sync, a chorus of productivity and efficiency.

Motor Graders leveled the land, ensuring the ground was smooth for the construction of roads, while Compactors crushed the earth beneath them, compressing it into the solid foundation needed for the infrastructure that would one day support thousands of lives.

Above them, drones zipped through the sky, buzzing like hornets as they mapped the area, taking readings of the land and keeping a watchful eye on the progress of the workers. The drones hovered over the entire operation, ensuring everything was proceeding according to plan. Their cameras panned across the construction zone, capturing the work from all angles.

Olle was focused on his task, his shovel scraping across the ground as he mixed the asphalt with the gravel, preparing it for the next phase of the road construction. He worked with methodical precision, spreading the mixture evenly and ensuring the foundation would be strong. Behind him, the Compactors rolled over the surface, smoothing it out, creating a flawless, flat road.

The cold wind bit at his cheeks, but Olle barely noticed. He had grown used to the climate; after all, Malmö was cold in the winter, but nothing compared to the harsh, biting chill of Gaia. The temperature was lower here, but Olle's family had made their peace with the change. They were in the colony now, building their new lives on this alien world, and as long as he could be near the coast, where the weather was milder, he would endure the cold.

His mind wandered to thoughts of his wife, Astrid, and their two children. He imagined them sitting by the fireplace in their new home, the warmth of the flames flickering as they talked about their day. Olle's heart swelled with pride; this was the life they had dreamed of—a new start on a new world, far away from the dangers of Earth. The work was hard, but it was for them. It was for a future, a future where they would be safe.

As he continued his task, something unusual caught his attention. The sound of chainsaws and machines dimmed for a moment, replaced by an eerie rumble in the distance. Olle's eyes narrowed as he listened intently. The sound was deep, almost like the ground itself was shaking. A strange sound echoed through the trees, growing louder by the second.

The workers around him paused, their tools held still as they looked around in confusion. Olle turned to a nearby worker, Lars, who was operating one of the bulldozers. "Do you hear that?" Olle asked, his voice tense.

Lars nodded, his brow furrowed. "What is it?"

Before they could respond, the ground trembled beneath their feet. The rumbling grew louder, and then—there was a crashing sound from the woods. Olle turned, his heart pounding in his chest. His eyes widened as a massive, furry figure emerged from the trees. It was huge, towering over the workers like a living mountain.

The creature was unlike anything Olle had seen before. Standing on four legs, its massive body was covered in thick fur, and its horns curled like the ancient Viking helmets of Earth's past. The creature's eyes glinted with an unreadable intensity, but there was something predatory in them. It wore ancient ornaments, like the remains of an ancient civilization. As it lumbered forward, the workers froze in shock.

Without warning, the creature charged. It was as if the forest had unleashed a living nightmare, moving with the speed and force of a freight train. It collided with the workers like a storm, knocking them aside with brutal force. Some were sent flying, their bodies crashing against rocks, while others were trampled underfoot. The sound of bones snapping, the sickening thud of bodies being crushed, filled the air.

Olle, fueled by sheer instinct, dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the creature's charge. His heart pounded in his chest as he scrambled to his feet. But his eyes fell on something that made his blood run cold.

Jan Hegstad, the Norwegian worker Olle had befriended just days earlier, was caught in the creature's path. The creature collided with him like a speeding semi-truck, and Olle could only watch in horror as Jan's body was crushed between the massive creature and a boulder. Blood sprayed across the snow, painting the white ground with dark streaks.

The creature turned its gaze toward Olle, its eyes locking onto him with terrifying focus. It was a predator, and Olle was its prey.

The creature charged again, faster this time. Olle swung his shovel, aiming for the creature's head, hoping to at least slow it down. But the shovel struck with a dull thud, as if hitting stone. The creature barely flinched, its skull impervious to the blow. With a roar, it plowed into Olle, knocking him off his feet. He was sent flying through the air, his body crashing to the ground with sickening force. Pain exploded through his body as he hit the snow-covered earth.

Blood dripped from his head, and his vision blurred. His mind was fading, but through the haze, he could hear the screams of the workers, the roaring of the creature as it rampaged through the construction site. Some workers tried to climb onto the construction vehicles for safety, but it was no use. The creature smashed through the machines, flipping them over with terrifying ease. Workers were crushed beneath the wreckage, their screams rising into the air.

As darkness closed in on Olle, his last thoughts were of Astrid and their children. He wondered when he would see them again, if he would ever return to the warmth of their home, or if he would be just another forgotten casualty of this brutal, unforgiving world.

The chaos of the Tyresta Forest massacre would soon be known across Gaia. The massacre, which claimed the lives of over half of the 500+ workers, would send shockwaves through the Nordic nations, and the world would soon learn that the peaceful settlers of Gaia were not alone.

This devastating event would set the stage for a brutal conflict between the UN led Nordic coalition and the Kingdom of Yakyakistan, as the two sides clashed over the bloody snow-covered mountains of Gaia. The white snow of the northern mountains forever tainted by the brutal conflict between two forces—one seeking justice, the other determined to defend its territory.

Gaia, "New Çatalhöyük". June 22nd 2038.

The sun shone brightly over New Çatalhöyük, casting golden hues across the landscape. The sky was a perfect, cloudless blue, and the crisp mountain air carried with it the fresh scent of wild herbs and pine. The Turkish colony sprawled across the rugged terrain, nestled between high mountains and rolling hills that mirrored the beauty of the Anatolian homeland. Terraced fields traced the contours of the hillsides, their earthy tones interrupted by patches of green where farmers had begun to nurture their crops.

Ibrahim Ozmert was at the helm of his tractor, the steady rumble of the engine echoing through the fields. His dark hair, now streaked with silver from years of toil, caught the glint of the sun. Sweat beaded on his brow as he worked the land with practiced precision. He had dreamed of this—carving out a new life on Gaia, where the soil was fertile and the promise of a fresh start lay at every sunrise. The land had not given in easily, but with the aid of LIDAR-equipped drones and months of hard labor, Ibrahim and a small community of farmers had transformed a rugged patch of wilderness into productive farmland.

As the plow dug into the earth, Ibrahim glanced over at his neighbor, Odul Bardakci, who was tending a flock of Anatolian sheep. The animals, their wool as white as snow, grazed peacefully under the watchful eye of their shepherd. Odul, a wiry man with sharp, kind eyes, raised his hand in greeting, a smile creasing his weathered face.

"Assalaamalaikum, Ibrahim!" Odul called out, his voice warm and familiar.

"Wa'alaikum salam, my friend!" Ibrahim shouted back, cutting the tractor's engine to a low hum. "Did you finally get that land ownership certificate from the government?"

Odul's smile widened, pride lighting up his face. "Yes, just last week! It’s official now—I’m the owner of these hills and all the woolly troublemakers that come with them."

Ibrahim chuckled, his heart lifting with joy. Claiming land on Gaia had proven simpler than he ever imagined. The authorities only required proof that the colonists were making full use of their plots and had the means to defend them if needed. It was a nod to the hardiness of their ancestors, who once defended their homeland with the same fierce determination.

"Congratulations, Odul! Now, about that truck—" Ibrahim began, but his words were cut short by an abrupt, anguished bleat from one of Odul’s sheep. The two men turned, their eyes following the sound. Ibrahim’s heart clenched as he saw an arrow, its wooden shaft quivering, protruding from the neck of one of the sheep. Blood trickled down, staining the animal’s wool a deep crimson.

Before he could process the sight, another arrow sliced through the air, striking another sheep. Panic erupted in the flock as the animals scattered, bleating and trampling over one another in their desperate bid to escape. Odul’s eyes went wide with horror as he ran to calm his flock, his hands outstretched, his shouts drowned by the chaos.

Ibrahim’s gaze shifted to the horizon, where movement caught his eye. His blood ran cold as he made out several winged figures in the distance, their forms gliding through the air with predatory grace. The light of the sun gleamed off their feathers, brown and white, while their powerful lion-like bodies glistened with muscle. Beaks curved like scimitars, eyes as sharp and unyielding as blades. These were no mere animals; they were intelligent, cunning, and deadly.

"Odul! Get on the tractor now!" Ibrahim shouted, his voice shaking with urgency.

But Odul was already darting through the field, chasing after his terrified sheep. He didn’t hear Ibrahim’s desperate plea. One moment, he was alive, a figure of frantic energy; the next, an arrow sliced through the air and embedded itself deep in his chest. Odul gasped, a guttural, choked sound escaping his lips as he collapsed to the ground, eyes wide with shock and pain. Blood welled up from the wound, darkening his tunic as it seeped into the soil.

“No!” Ibrahim’s voice broke as he watched his friend fall, lifeless.

The creatures drew closer, their wings sending gusts of wind that flattened the grass and stirred up dust. Ibrahim’s heart pounded wildly as he turned his tractor around, fingers fumbling for the cell phone in his pocket. His hands were slick with sweat as he dialed the emergency number, the line ringing for what felt like an eternity before a voice crackled through.

"Colonial Security, what is your emergency?" the operator asked, her tone calm and practiced.

"We're under attack! Strage creatures—Odul is dead! They're—" Ibrahim's voice was cut short as a sharp, searing pain shot through his neck. An arrow had struck him, piercing through muscle and sinew. Blood surged from the wound, dribbling down his chest and pooling at his collar. He gasped, the phone slipping from his blood-slicked fingers and clattering to the ground.

A crimson tide filled his mouth, choking him as he struggled to breathe. He fell from the tractor, hitting the ground with a thud. His vision blurred, the sky above him spinning as life began to slip away. The operator’s voice echoed faintly from the phone, repeating his name, but it was drowned out by the sound of wings flapping and a guttural roar—a mix of eagle's shriek and lion's growl.

When the Turkish security forces and UN peacekeeping units finally arrived, the scene was a tableau of horror. Smoke rose from the charred remains of houses and farmsteads, their walls reduced to blackened skeletons. Bodies of colonists lay sprawled across the fields, their limbs bent at unnatural angles, eyes staring lifelessly at the sky. Blood soaked the ground, mixing with the dirt to create a gruesome mosaic. Livestock that hadn’t been stolen lay slaughtered, their bodies punctured by arrows.

Amid the carnage, the soldiers found hundreds of arrows, their wooden shafts fletched with primitive feathers. Among the debris was a single, large feather—a pristine white streaked with brown, completely alien in nature.

The news of the massacre and the existence of sentient life on Gaia, shockwaves rippled across the world. The revelation of a powerful civilization that later became known as the "Griffonian Empire"—a realm notorious for its ruthless banditry and relentless raiding—ignited a storm of outrage. People of Türkiye are not strangers to this type of adversity, the people of the Anatolian Peninsula have faced empires and brought them down. They have survived countless trials, and we will not allow their new home to fall to the barbarism of brigands. This is their land now, and they will defend it with every ounce of strength they possess.

The past had shown that their ancestors, from the Ottomans to the republic's soldiers, had toppled the mighty. Now, in this strange new world of Gaia, they would rise again to face their greatest challenge yet.

(Author's note: This parts of story will contain ultra religious content. As a Muslim myself, I just want to express the things I learned since I was in elementary school, please don't take this seriously!)

Gaia, "New Mecca". June 22nd 2038.

Under the scorching midday sun, with not a cloud in sight, the colonists of New Mecca worked tirelessly on their grand undertaking—a monumental project that would mark the heart of their new settlement with an echo of divine reverence. The weather mirrored that of the Arabian Peninsula, blisteringly hot with waves of heat rippling across the horizon. Sweat glistened on the brows of workers clad in sand-colored construction suits as they labored to build a structure that would become the crowning jewel of their faith: a grander, more magnificent version of the Masjid al-Haram. Towering minarets soared to meet the heavens, piercing the blue sky like fingers of stone and marble, adorned with intricate Islamic calligraphy and gilded crescent moons that shimmered brilliantly.

Inside, the mosque was a blend of sacred luxury and advanced technology. Marble floors, cool and polished, spread across the expanse, and intricate geometric mosaics and Quranic verses graced the walls, illuminated by panels of smart glass that cast soft, ambient light even at night. Ablution fountains, equipped with state-of-the-art water systems, hummed quietly, ready to wash away the dust of labor and cleanse the faithful for prayer. In the center, beneath an open sky that would soon be framed by towering colonnades, lay the vast expanse where the Kaaba would be placed—a spiritual epicenter in this new world, drawing the devout from every corner of Gaia.

Despite whispers within the UN accusing this as a vanity project and resource waste, the Saudi government and the wider Islamic world stood united. For them, nothing was too grand or costly if it meant honoring Allah and creating a sanctuary that embodied their devotion. The sacrifices of material wealth and labor were mere offerings in the shadow of divine purpose.

As the sun reached its zenith, the workers gathered under the canvas of their housing tents to rest and eat. The air was filled with the rich aromas of Kapsa and chicken Shawarma, a well-earned feast to stave off the relentless desert heat. Laughter and voices mingled as they shared stories of their homeland, the rhythmic clink of utensils against plates a soothing background to the camaraderie.

But as they settled into their meal, a disturbance on the horizon caught their attention. A group of strange creatures approached, their forms shimmering through the waves of heat. At first glance, they appeared to be horses, but the longer one looked, the more unnatural they seemed. Their coats were sleek and well-kept, some adorned with elaborate saddles and bridles that bore the elegance of ancient Arabic design. Flowing robes and bejeweled headdresses glimmered in the harsh sunlight, reminiscent of the attire worn by the noble Bedouins of old.

The workers fell silent, utensils frozen mid-air as one of the creatures stepped forward, its large eyes thoughtful and expressive. It spoke in a language none of them recognized, a melodic and guttural flow of words that resonated in the air. It held out a stone idol and scrolls, offering them with an almost reverent gesture. The workers exchanged nervous glances, the strange interaction bristling with an unspoken tension.

Then a voice rang out—a man named Faysal, his eyes wide with alarm, yelled, “Shaitan!” The word ignited a spark that turned the workers' confusion into fear. Stones and pebbles were hastily gathered and thrown, pelting the creatures with an intensity born of deep-seated religious conviction. The scene mirrored the age-old story of Prophet Ibrahim casting stones at the devil, warding off temptation with unyielding faith.

The creatures recoiled, their eyes wide with shock as they backed away, stumbling and stumbling over themselves in their hurry to retreat. One of the workers, in a frenzy, hurled a hammer that struck a creature on its leg. It cried out in pain, a sound that was both alien and haunting. The creatures turned and galloped into the blazing desert, their forms shrinking to specks before disappearing into the horizon.

The workers, their faces still marked with fury and adrenaline, quickly gathered in one of the completed sections of the mosque. They performed their Dhuhr prayer, their foreheads pressed to the cool marble floor as they whispered invocations of protection and reaffirmed their loyalty to Allah. Their hearts beat with resolve, unyielding in their faith, unknowing that their reaction had lit the first spark of a conflict that would soon spread across the dunes and mountains of New Arabia. A war was coming, a trial that would test not just their fortitude but their unwavering dedication to the Almighty.

Author's Note

OK, I promise after this we will get back to the main plot, the reason why I added this to the story is because they will be really important later in the story.
If you have any suggestions, let me know in the comments.

Me during the writing process of this chapter :