Elijah
District Fractisus,
Pandaemonium City
Hudsonia Region
Capital of the Kingdom
September 28th, 6414
11:45 pm
The city of Pandaemonium never truly slept. Its veins pulsed with neon veins, static-laced surveillance drones humming overhead like mechanical carrion birds. In the lower levels—beneath the wealth-choked towers and opulent vampire courts—where the air reeked of oil, ash, and sweat, the truth was traded in hushed voices and blood-soaked credits.
I moved through that underbelly wrapped in shadow. A long, hooded coat shielded my face, and a low-grade distortion charm disguised my scent. I walked like someone who didn't want to be noticed—but would make you regret noticing him.
The meeting point was a decommissioned magrail station in District Fractisus. The perfect place to disappear. And to make someone else disappear. The station was a ruin of time and neglect, its broken ceiling open to the acid-gray sky. Cold drizzle pattered against the rusting metal bones of the terminal, pooling around ancient bloodstains no one had bothered to clean. District Fractisus was known for three things: addicts, poverty, and disappearances.
I stepped into the rot of the place without hesitation, where I found the informant waiting in the old ticket booth, just as the coordinates had promised.
"Wraith," the man greeted, using the burner alias I had given him. He was lean, covered in tribal tattoos, his eyes jittering from withdrawal—or paranoia. "Didn't think you'd come yourself."
"I don't trust messengers with things this...delicate," I said.
The man chuckled dryly. "Delicate, huh? You mean high-risk. This shit's dangerous. Had to burn two contacts just to get it off the military net."
I reached into my coat and pulled out a sealed vial—pure Mana distillate. A rare commodity. The man's pupils dilated just looking at it. Followed by a pouch filled with Ether crystals, a valuable treasure worth a fortune.
"I want everything," I said. "Every memo. Every whisper. All the information you were able to steal from the base."
The informant's fingers trembled as he passed a data chip across the cracked marble counter. "This is the last copy. Once you read it, you'll wish you hadn't. Don't forget you promised you would provide me with safety. Passage to the Old World."
"If your intel is exactly what I want," I said.
I took the chip, sliding it into the Uni woven into my glove. The data began to stream through my lenses, illuminating the truth line by line. As the feed loaded, my breath caught.
"Operation Crimson Severance – Authorized by: Operator Trevane.""Target: King Rafael Ashtarmel. Objective: Termination.""Rationale: Predicted instability. Marked as a liability and a threat."
Line after line unfolded—a conspiracy buried beneath classified encryption, sanctioned by rogue elements within the Kingdom. It hadn't been a random attack. It had been a culling. A political pruning. And worse, I suspect someone in the Royal Cabinet had allowed it. A traitor.
"Who else knows of this?" I asked.
"No one. Like I said, I had to burn my contacts just to secure my safety." The man said. "Now will you pay me what I'm owed."
"Sure," I said. "In hell." My hand bypassed the man's defense, darting like a viper's fang to grab the man's wrist and twist. Bone snapped. I yanked the informant forward and slammed a fist into his gut, lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the kiosk's support beam.
The man's eyes bulged. "What the hell—?!"
My blade flashed free from my coat, a slender arc of obsidian. I drove it toward the man's chest, but the informant moved. With a guttural snarl, he activated a mythril-cored mana blaster from his wrist gauntlet and fired point-blank.
The first shot punched into my side. Mythril-enhanced mana seared through my ribs, flaring on impact like a burning star. I staggered, biting back a cry. The second shot grazed my thigh, tearing through flesh and muscle. The third I barely dodged, catching it with a ripple of defensive aura, the shockwave slamming me back into a pillar. Smoke rose from my wounds. Blood pooled beneath my coat.
"You bastard," the informant coughed, dragging himself up. "You thought I'd be easy? I might be a non-Awaken, but I was a Lieutenant in the Royal Military. I've killed for less."
"And I am an Awaken," I rasped—and vanished. I reappeared behind the man in a flicker of motion—too fast, too sharp to trace. My blade found the soft spot under the informant's arm and carved upward. The man shrieked, dropping the blaster. I twisted the blade, then pulled it free in a brutal arc that sent the man crashing to his knees.
The informant howled, collapsing. I grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the pillar again, as blood gushed out.
"You were supposed to help me..." The man muttered.
"You're a risk I can't afford," I said.
And then, with a clean, efficient motion, I slid the blade through the man's throat. There was no glory in it. No vengeance. Just a necessity. As the body slumped to the floor, I retrieved the data chip, wiped it clean, and re-encrypted the files to a secure shard deep in my Uni. Then I took one last look at the corpse.
"Rest in the silence you tried to sell me," I said softly.
I walked out into the drizzle-drenched night, the sounds of the undercity swallowing me whole. Somewhere above, the aristocrats prepared for their morning rituals. But down here, in the bones of the empire, I had discovered a horrifying truth.
****
Empire hotel
Pandaemonium City
Hudsonia Region
Capital of the Kingdom
September 29th, 6414
12: 49 pm
"Wake up!"
"No!" I groaned, burying myself deeper into the plush bed. My body was wrecked, heavy with exhaustion and a gnawing hunger I thought I had satisfied the night before. Around me, the press of warm bodies was comforting. Their skin radiated heat, their pulses tempting. The lingering scent of blood coursing beneath their flesh made my mouth twitch, but the fatigue was overwhelming. I just wanted more time. I wanted to sleep, to let my body finish healing.
And then—splosh! Ice-cold water splashed across my face, shocking me fully awake. I shot upright, sputtering as I swiped at my face.
"What the f..?" I began to snarl, but then stopped as I noticed who had woken me up.
Stephen Marcos, my assistant, stood a step back, empty glass in hand, looking as calm and smug as ever. Her dark, tailored suit was immaculate, and her sharp gaze barely glanced at the group stirring beside me. The humans—last night's entertainment—were waking up groggily, untangling themselves from the bedsheets as they gathered their clothes. Stephen didn't so much as flinch when one of them crossed her path. She simply set the glass on the nightstand and stood aside, her arms folded, waiting for me to get moving.
I sighed, stretching stiff muscles and feeling every inch of the healing wounds still etched into my body. My mind drifted back to the events that had put me in this state—the fight, the murder, and the delicious recovery that had followed. By the time I'd dragged myself back to the penthouse, all I'd wanted was to drown my pain in human blood and lose myself in the comforting warmth of their bodies. But now morning had come, and apparently, so had Stephen's reminder of my responsibilities.
Damn that Human informant. I thought. Where the hell did he get a Mythril mana blaster?
"You're late for your morning appointment," Steph said. Her tone was clipped, no-nonsense. She barely glanced at the others as they shuffled out, though I caught the slight lift of her eyebrow as one man pulled his shirt on, revealing puncture marks on his neck. The others waved half-heartedly as they left, leaving me alone with Stephen's disapproving silence.
"Do you always have to wake me up like that?" I muttered, wiping the water from my face with yesterday's shirt. I'd lost count of how many times she'd used that particular tactic. Every time I thought I'd anticipate it, she found a way to catch me off guard.
"You were taking too long—again," she replied coolly. "And the morning briefing reports are waiting." Her gaze lingered on the mess I'd made before she began tapping notes into her tablet. I groaned again, rubbing at the persistent ache in my ribs and thigh, the spot where I had been injured.
"What would I do without you?" I muttered.
"Struggle," she replied dryly, not missing a beat. "I've sent the report to your Uni. Have a look at it."
With that, she turned on her heel and strode toward the living area, leaving me no room to argue. I stood and stumbled to the wide windows, dragging open the heavy curtains. The morning light poured in, too bright for my taste, but it offered a sprawling view of the city. Below, the streets buzzed with ground traffic, while above, shuttles zipped through designated air lanes. The city's pulse was steady, alive, and relentless—a far cry from the quiet stillness I craved.
"I've got coffee with synthblood mixed in," Stephen called from the living room. Her voice carried a professional detachment, but I caught the faintest hint of concern beneath it. "It'll help get you through the morning."
She appeared at my side, a steaming mug in hand. I took it, the faint coppery tang of blood already sparking my senses. As I sipped, the familiar rush of energy flowed through me. It wasn't as rich as fresh blood, but it was enough. Enough to push me out of my lethargy and refocus my mind.
"There are clothes laid out for you," she added, glancing at her watch. "I suggest you get ready. Your next appointment won't wait."
Half an hour later, I was suited up in a tailored black Giuliano ensemble, stepping out into the crisp air outside the Empire Hotel. The sharp lines of the suit fit me perfectly, its understated elegance a statement in itself. Stephen walked beside me, tablet in hand, scrolling through the morning's briefings. I skimmed the summaries on my Uni, my mood darkening with each line. Crime rates were rising in the outlying regions, Peacekeeper funding was stretched thin, and reports from Kettlia painted a bleak picture of growing unrest. My jaw tightened as I read the latest updates from the former capital.
Two years had passed since the assassination of the former King and his family—two years of turmoil that still left scars. The flames of that night had burned more than just the palace. They had seared through the nation's sense of security, leaving a fractured kingdom that even now struggled to find balance. Some regions were finally recovering, but Kettlia was still a hotbed of instability.
I couldn't stop the memories from surfacing, no matter how hard I tried to focus on the report in my hand. The chaos, the screaming, the blood-soaked floors... I closed my eyes briefly, forcing the images away. Not now. Not today.
A sleek black car waited for us at the curb. Two guards stood at attention, opening the doors as I approached. Stephen slid into the seat beside me, her tablet still in hand, the faint glow of its screen reflecting off her sharp features. I followed the familiar scent of leather and the low hum of the engine, grounding me. As the door shut behind us, the chaos of the past receded—if only for a moment—and I prepared myself for another day of navigating the precarious new reality that had taken hold of this kingdom.
"Can't the Grand Council do something about the situation in Kettlia?" I asked, snapping my Uni closed with a frustrated motion. The screen's glow had done nothing to dispel the heaviness in my mind, the weight of reports piling on top of me.
Kettlia, a volatile powder keg in the heart of the Kingdom, was one of the last remaining regions openly resisting the political shift. Riots and protests were the new norm there, the humans clinging stubbornly to a bygone era. It wasn't just nostalgia; it was raw devotion to the former King, my uncle, who had given them that land generations ago. Even after his death, his shadow loomed large, and now, with his brother—my father—on the throne, that stubborn loyalty had turned into rebellion.
"It seems the Council isn't too fond of the Royal Cabinet's recent proposals either," Steph said from her seat beside me. Her calm, measured tone did nothing to smooth the irritation bubbling under my skin. The Royal Cabinets. I groaned at the thought of them, a collection of self-serving aristocrats who cared little for the consequences of their decrees. They were obsessed with maintaining power, no matter the cost. My dealings with them had been exhausting at best. I thought of the discovery I had made. I did not doubt the possibility of a traitor being among them. And it had nothing to do with my dislike for them.
Their latest suggestion—a proposal to enforce identifier wristbands for humans was more than just a bad idea. It was catastrophic. Such a move would stoke the flames of rebellion, pushing the humans of Kettlia into open war. It was a fool's gambit, and as the Director of R.E.T.U, I was the one who would have to clean up the mess if they pushed it through.
The memory of my last visit to the Royal Cabinets was still fresh. Their opulent chambers, the weighty scent of rare incense hanging in the air, the gold-trimmed walls gleaming under artificial light—all of it a nauseating reminder of their decadence. They were so far removed from the reality of the common regions that I doubted they could even spell "rebellion," let alone recognize the threat of one.
Yet they were the ones setting policy, the ones my father relied on. And if they got their way, Kettlia would erupt into chaos. My fists clenched at the thought, and I forced myself to take a deep breath.
While the Council's actions of late infuriated me, they weren't the ones I had to face today. That privilege belonged to the Royal Cabinets themselves, and I couldn't afford to keep them waiting. My father's temper was not a thing to be trifled with, and I'd already pushed my luck more than once. I glanced over at Steph, who was scrolling through her own Uni, her eyes flicking across the text.
"How much longer until we reach the Palace?" I asked, my voice tight.
"We're approaching the Hyperfold Gate now," she replied without looking up. "Another fifteen minutes."
I sighed, settling back into my seat as the car sped down the reserved lane. Through the tinted windows, I could see the city humming with activity. Ground traffic crawled at a steady pace, a contrast to the sleek shuttles zipping above. The streets were alive with pedestrians, their faces turned away from the sky, their expressions mostly unconcerned. Manaborns of all kinds moved through the thoroughfares, seemingly indifferent to the unseen forces holding their fragile peace together.
The buildings we passed were adorned with banners and garlands, decorations for Remembrance Day. Even now, workers hung lights and flags from the highest balconies. The sight brought a bitter taste to my mouth.
Remembrance Day.
A time to honor those lost in the Long War, to remember the sacrifices made, and the lives torn apart. But for me, the holiday was a cruel reminder of everything I had lost. My cousin Ariella had been among those taken, her life extinguished in that fire two years ago. Her laughter, her quick wit, her unwavering belief in me. All of it was gone. I reached into my pocket, pulling out the old locket watch I always carried.
Its smooth, worn surface felt cool in my hand as I opened it. Inside was a tiny picture of us together, a snapshot of a simpler time. I stared at my own younger face, so different from the man I had become. But Ariella—she looked timeless. She had been fourteen then. If she were alive now, she'd be sixteen.
Next to her was another girl. A human. Lilith. Her dark hair fell across her face, her smile hesitant. She had been Ariella's protector, her best friend. A human bodyguard among the royal guards. It had seemed so strange at the time, but Ariella had seen something in her, something none of us understood. I hadn't trusted her. I'd felt an unshakable unease around her, a deep, primal fear that I couldn't explain. And yet, she had stayed at Ariella's side until the end. No one knew if she had survived that night. If she had, she had failed her duty. But she had also been Ariella's closest confidant. For that, I had mourned her.
"Director, we've reached the gate station," Steph said, pulling me from my thoughts. I closed the locket with a soft click, slipping it back into my pocket as the car slowed. A tall white gate loomed ahead, flanked by guards in crisp crimson uniforms. The driver flashed his credentials, and one of the guards waved us through. The gate parted, revealing the gateway ahead: twin pillars of ancient stone standing in a perfect circle, etched with runes that glimmered faintly even in the daylight.
I stepped out of the car as my guards opened the door for me. The sunlight was harsh, glinting off the polished stone of the courtyard. I retrieved a pair of sunglasses from my coat and slipped them on, the tinted lenses shielding my eyes from the glare. Steph joined me, walking close behind as we approached the gateway.
The guards at the pillars stood at attention, their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. One of them nodded to me before activating the controls. The runes began to glow brighter, and a faint hum filled the air. A flash of light cut through the space between the pillars, and the gateway shimmered into existence—a dark, swirling void that seemed to pull at the edges of reality.
I took a deep breath and stepped through. The sensation was disorienting, a momentary loss of balance and a strange, twisting pressure in my chest. But it passed quickly, leaving me on the other side. The palace grounds stretched out before me, pristine and orderly, the towering spires reaching into the sky. A cluster of servants in violet uniforms waited at the edge of the platform, bowing as I stepped forward. The woman at the front, Sevika, greeted me with a warm smile, though her eyes were wary. I returned her nod and let my sunglasses slide down my nose slightly, taking in the imposing grandeur of the palace.
For all its beauty, this place had become a den of vipers. The power struggles that had erupted after the King's death still lingered, festering beneath the polished veneer. It was for that reason that I had moved out, taking residency in the Empire Hotel. I had wanted to get as far from the political manuvering that had been going on.
My next meeting would be no different—a room full of scheming aristocrats and power-hungry ministers. I straightened my jacket, adjusted my cuffs, and prepared myself for the subtle daggers and veiled threats that awaited me.
"Prince Elijah, His Majesty is awaiting your presence in the cabinet chamber," Sevika said, her voice smooth but taut with formality.
"Thank you," I replied curtly. The sun's relentless glare vanished as we entered the shaded corridor leading away from the Hyperfold gate courtyard. Its cool, quiet atmosphere was in sharp contrast to the world outside. I turned to my guards with a dismissive gesture.
"You're dismissed," I said. There was no need for them here. Within these walls, the threats were far more subtle—and far more dangerous.