Deviant: No Longer Human
Chapter 705 - 705: Operation Celestial Response!

30th December, 2031 — Transatlantic Ocean

The sky tore open.

CRAAACK!

A jagged rift formed mid-ocean above the Atlantic waters—black lightning dancing along its edges, the space itself vibrating like it was suffocating.

Out from within the rift, hands emerged. Not human.

Each one as large as a man's torso, dark brown, cracked, and filled with scars, as if they had been crawling through hell for millennia. Their fingers gripped the edges of the tear, pulling it wider.

And then—

THOOOOOM!

The ocean below rumbled—a low growl that echoed across continents.

Something rose from the depths.

A massive leviathan, its silhouette stretching hundreds of meters wide, surfaced with a wave so large it could've drowned islands. Its mouth opened slowly, revealing a glowing blue vortex inside its throat.

BOOOOOOM!

A searing beam of aether energy shot out.

WOOOOOOSH!

The entire sky above turned white.

The creatures inside the rift were vaporized—no screams, no struggle—just dust blown into time itself. The rift collapsed, space folded back into itself like a scared animal.

And the leviathan?

It turned, silent, and unbothered. It descended beneath the ocean surface once more, vanishing without a ripple.

It wasn't the only one.

Around the world, the same thing was happening.

_____

Himalayan Base Camp

CRACK!

Space tore near the mountains.

Tourists screamed. The guide dropped his sat-phone. From the tear, eyes opened. Dozens of red orbs blinked across the rift, attached to a crawling, centipede-like creatures the size of a train.

Just as it began to slide out—

WHUMP!

The snow exploded.

From the side of the mountain, a golden figure appeared—an ancient tiger deity, skin glowing with runes of fire and snow. It roared.

SKREEEEEE!

With a single pounce, it clawed the beast's head and dragged it back into the rift, sealing it with a roar that cracked glaciers.

____

Egypt – Above the Pyramids

A swirling red mist covered the skies.

From the mist floated Persephone—her expression cold, detached, her gown fluttering as if underwater.

Below her, the rift monsters poured out.

Bone-thin hounds with human arms.

Crawling torsos with three mouths.

Creatures that shouldn't exist.

"Frozen," she whispered.

SSSSSHHHH!

The red mist surged down. Every monster froze mid-motion, turned to crimson ice—and shattered.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Behind her, the Pharaohs rose.

Undead kings stepped out of tombs that hadn't opened in 4,000 years. Skeletons with swords, mummified priests chanting in ancient tongue, armies of the dead flooded the sand.

One pharaoh raised a golden staff.

"You desecrate sacred land… return to the abyss!"

They marched to war—not against humans, but against the invaders trying to enter the world.

____

Country M – Military Base, Nevada

Inside a dark command bunker, red lights flashed.

Screens showed twelve global hotspots—rifts tearing in jungles, oceans, deserts.

"Who activated the retaliation protocol?" a general barked.

"No one did, sir."

"What the hell are those things killing the invaders?! That's not ours!"

Someone whispered in the dark:

"They're not ours. They were here before us."

____

Antarctica – Remote Observation Post

A team of four scientists huddled around the radar.

The readings were going insane.

"What the hell is this… seismic activity in all directions?"

Outside, the sky turned violet.

A lone girl stepped out of the snow.

Barefoot.

She looked up, and said to no one, "It's coming."

Then she vanished into the wind.

____

The Pattern Was Clear.

Wherever the rifts opened, something had already prepared for it.

Beasts, ancient guardians, forgotten gods.

No humans had mobilized.

It was all pre-set.

A millennia-old plan falling into motion like clockwork.

The monsters weren't attacking humans—they were trying to get in.

And something on this side of the world wasn't letting them.

_____

The District (Washington D.C.) – 31st December, 2031, 0900 Hours (GMT-5)

Presidential Address – "Operation Celestial Response"

The world was watching.

Cameras from every major nation were locked in on the grand marble platform set at the front of the White House, restructured with a reinforced bulletproof barrier, layered drones, and anti-air missile systems mounted discreetly under digital camouflage.

Above, a formation of seventh-generation fighter aether fueled jets screamed through the sky—

VVRRRRRMMMMM!

They roared overhead in perfect synchronization, leaving behind golden trails shaped like wings across the blue.

Boom—Boom—BOOM!

Explosions lit up in the far distance—controlled detonations, part of the spectacle, shaking the ground just enough to remind the viewers: We have power. We have control.

Standing tall behind the bulletproof podium, clad in a navy-blue tactical suit with a subtle presidential seal stitched into the collar, was the President of Country M.

Her gray hair was tied in a low military bun. Her gaze—sharp, unwavering—cut through the camera lens like a knife through fog.

Every gesture was precise.

Every pause calculated.

No teleprompter.

Every word committed to memory.

"Good morning, citizens of Earth."

Silence followed.

The jets passed overhead once more, a subtle low rumble backing her voice like a war drum.

"You've seen the reports. You've heard the whispers. You've watched the skies flicker, the seas boil, and the ground tremble."

"Let me be clear—this is not the end. This is the beginning of our next chapter."

Behind her, two massive digital screens played sanitized footage: flashes of light, aerial engagements, static-filled shots of strange entities exploding mid-air.

"Our enemies have come not from this Earth, but from fractures in the very fabric of space and time. These are not wars we started. But they will be wars we finish."

Thunder—BOOM!

Timed fireworks detonated in the distance, mimicking artillery. The crowd flinched. Soldiers in exosuits didn't.

"The Country is deploying a 'global containment grid'. The Department of Aetheral Defense has been authorized full activation protocols under Operation Celestial Response."

She raised her hand.

A hologram emerged, displaying 12 active rift zones around the world with red-hot pulses on the map. Small fighter icons marked deployments. A few glowing green dots were moving—classified "non-human allies."

"We have formed alliances. We have brought in the best minds, the oldest legends, and weapons not known to the public."

"And as for these… beings crawling from beyond?"

She paused.

The camera zoomed in.

"We're not afraid of ghosts."

"We've buried gods before."

The crowd erupted in applause.

Jets circled once more overhead, cameras zoomed in on waving flags, reporters smiled into their lenses. News anchors across every major outlet began reciting the prepared script in unison—manufactured calm pumped across screens like anesthesia.

"President confirms full global readiness."

"Operation Celestial Response underway."

"Containment efforts absolute."

But then—the questions began.

And the space changed.

A reporter from Channel 9 stood up, mic in hand, face tight with skepticism.

"Madam President, how are these creatures different from the monsters humanity has already been fighting over the last decade?"

Before she could answer, a figure stepped forward behind her.

The Secretary of Defense.

Tall, monolithic, voice like grinding gravel.

He adjusted the mic.

"The creatures we've encountered in the past… were part of our world. They were bound here—some slumbering since the Great Reset, others lying dormant beneath ley lines or sealed in forgotten zones."

"They awakened when the aether returned. A reaction—like old bones stirring when magic resurfaces."

"Some were hostile. Some weren't. But they belonged here. They were—" he hesitated "—ours."

"We couldn't simply eliminate them. Many of them own a right to this land, as much as we do."

A ripple of unease spread through the room.

"But what we face now… isn't ours."

"They're from beyond. From the other side of the veil. From places we don't… yet understand."

The press pool tensed. Another reporter fired off a follow-up.

"So you mean to say we've had hostile magical creatures within our world for years… and just coexisted?"

"You couldn't stop them—or you didn't have the strength to?"

The Secretary's jaw clenched.

Before he could respond—

Another hand shot up.

A reporter from NHK.

"Then these new arrivals—these entities fighting on our side. The ones flying. Freezing rifts. Raising the dead."

"Are those… gods?"

"Are they back?"

"And if they are—why now?"

"Why only when we're on the edge of collapse?"

The Secretary said nothing.

A long pause.

The President, still standing firm, slowly leaned back toward the podium. Her voice, calm but colder.

"You're asking the right questions."

"We'll provide answers… when we have them."

____

Off-camera, behind the curtain, aides were already panicking.

Two screens in the intelligence command center had gone black.

One was tracking Tokyo.

The other?

Frostholm (Greenland)

And both were marked:

"ALLY INTERVENTION — ENTITY UNKNOWN—GRADE 0"

____

Back at the White House

The 50th President of Country M, Valerie K. Hawthorne, descendant of the once-mythologized Kennedy lineage, smiled to herself behind the podium.

The applause was thunderous.

The world was watching.

And her image—confident, collected, commanding—was finally reclaiming the spotlight.

Ever since the Eight Prince Incident back in 2026, Washington D.C. had lost its grip on the world stage. Global power had fractured. Influence had eroded.

But this—this?

This was opportunity.

Let the world fear.

Let it panic.

Valerie would sell them strength, even if it meant betting the entire nation on a lie.

Behind her, however, Defense Secretary Reed Halvorsen's expression soured.

He narrowed his eyes at the perimeter.

"What… are they doing here?" he muttered.