Eternal Cycle Star Nation.
Star City 1.
Underworld.
Luna had just received a transmission from Hossie.
His ship was equipped with a Tachyon communicator—a breakthrough in interstellar communication. Thanks to advances in miniaturization and power efficiency, Tachyon units could now be installed on mobile vessels.
Even so, the smallest model still occupied 13,871 cubic units—essentially a cube with sides of 24 meters. Energy consumption remained high, but with modern energy storage technologies, his ship had ample reserves. One transmission cost around 4% of total stored energy.
The message had actually been sent ten days earlier.
The distance between them was just over 70 light-years.
"What do you think about this, Chu?" Luna muttered in disbelief after reading the message.
Whoever they were, the opposing party had deleted the server's data—a blatant overstep of authority.
That alone proved they possessed technological capabilities far beyond their own.
"I don't think it was an active attack," she added.
"Judging by their behavior, they clearly had the means to eliminate everyone aboard the Dancer, including Hossie. But they didn't. They targeted one specific, low-level researcher."
"That suggests this wasn't a deliberate assault—it was passive. The researcher must have triggered some kind of hidden mechanism."
"Did she have any distinguishing features?"
Luna pulled up her profile.
"Sensitive to audio frequencies."
Her background was otherwise unremarkable, even mundane. The only noteworthy detail was her prior military service—she had joined Hossie during his previous uprising.
Trustworthy. That was likely why she'd been chosen.
Hossie valued loyalty over pure utility.
"Maybe it has something to do with the audio frequencies!" Chu speculated.
Luna nodded. She had the same suspicion.
"If it really was a passive trigger related to audio frequencies, then the biggest question is: how could an audio frequency simultaneously kill someone and erase their data from the server?"
"It's too precise."
And that kind of surgical precision contradicts the idea of a passive event.
Luna sank into a chair, deep in thought. What sort of method could achieve this?
Was it advanced technology? Or something more... abstract, like illusion or mental interference?
"So you're saying it might actually have been intentional?" Chu asked.
That possibility couldn't be ruled out.
But if it was a deliberate act, that would mean someone on board was behind it all.
They weren't on the ship themselves—so they couldn't fully verify what had happened.
"Send a message to Hossie. Tell him not to dwell on small details. Just return first," Luna instructed.
Clarifying the bigger picture came first.
Chu agreed.
The message was sent.
With Tachyon communications, the delay should've been short—twenty or twenty-one days at most.
But even after a full month, there was no reply from the Dancer.
Luna told Chu to keep trying. Meanwhile, she began digging into recent transmissions from the Dancer.
She discovered that the Dancer had sent data packets related to storage units to nearby Star Cities.
It had also begun decelerating—a good sign.
Luna assumed the lack of response was due to a trajectory error: maybe the Dancer simply hadn't received their messages. She instructed Chu to broaden the transmission range.
Standard Tachyon communication was highly directional, to conserve energy.
Even so, another month passed—and still, nothing.
"Something must've happened aboard the Dancer," Luna muttered.
"If the server could be compromised, then we can't rule out the possibility that the Tachyon communicator was compromised too."
With that, her suspicions only deepened.
This wasn't just a glitch or accident.
It had all the signs of a deliberate act.
"A ship traveling at 240,000 kilometers per second—we suspect it's slowed down to about 200,000 km/s—but we have no way to catch up. Even if we could reach its velocity, we wouldn't know if it's still following the same trajectory."
Chu was visibly worried. He feared that Hossie might already be in serious trouble.
And perhaps, Hossie truly couldn't solve it—because the ship was simply too small and confined.
Even if he uncovered something, he likely wouldn't have the resources or space to investigate.
"Prepare yourselves. We may have already lost Hossie."
Luna understood the gravity of the situation.
This wasn't just a straightforward confrontation.
The emergence of dimensional gateways, the Connector, and the territorial constraints imposed by higher civilizations at the galactic core were changing the nature of warfare in the Milky Way.
It was becoming more complex—more abstract.
Every civilization had its own unique methods of warfare, and many of them were nearly impossible to counter directly.
If this really was the work of another civilization, then the only viable solution might be to locate and eliminate them entirely.
"That kid Hossie's not an idiot!" Chu insisted. He still held out hope.
Luna shook her head.
"This has nothing to do with intelligence. We need to prepare for the worst."
"At the same time, we need to mobilize the military—to launch a direct assault on Star City 4."
It should have been done earlier.
Why hadn't it?
Because Star City 4 had a military too—and a sizable one. But now, it had also gone completely silent.
Even the military hadn't been able to resolve the issue. That was why Hossie had to invoke higher authority.
Now it seemed even that wasn't enough.
Luna saw no other option but to issue the order: attack Star City 4 and eliminate the problem at its source.
It was a harsh decision.
To avoid potential retaliation or unforeseen complications, the attack would be launched from a remote position.
They didn't even know whether anyone was still alive on Star City 4.
"Hossie learned my individualism," Luna said quietly. "But he never learned that a true ruler must be willing not just to sacrifice themselves—but also others."
Most people would say that sentence the other way around.
But for Hossie, the second half was much harder than the first.
Chu shivered slightly.
He had fought alongside Luna before. He knew what she was capable of.
She genuinely wanted to save everyone. She believed in equality.
But when cornered, she wouldn't hesitate to act—to sacrifice a few to protect the many.
That was Luna's cold edge.
"Yes, maybe wiping out Star City 4 would be the better option," Chu admitted. "But I think we should give Hossie a little more time."
"Besides, we can't be sure destroying Star City 4 will actually solve the problem. If we still don't understand the civilization behind this, that kind of destruction might just invite even greater consequences."
He sounded uneasy, and with good reason.
Luna knew all of this.
But destroying Star City 4 might force the enemy out of hiding.
They could prepare in advance for the next Star City—gather more intel and anticipate a response.
...
Eternal Cycle Star Nation.
Star City 5.
This was the closest city to Star City 4—only 124 light-years away.
Like Star City 1, Star City 5 was divided into two realms: the mortal realm and the underworld. The only difference was that this city had no virtual world.
Residents of the mortal realm lived on the positive side of the city; those in the underworld lived on the negative side.
When someone in the mortal realm died, their consciousness would descend to the underworld, reuniting with their original body.
And once their time in the underworld ended, they would be forcibly transferred back into the mortal realm—this time, inside a newly manufactured body.
Their memories from the previous life would be erased.
They wouldn't forget the existence of the two realms, only who they themselves were.
Star City 5 wasn't some flat, paper-thin construct.
Its structure resembled a pan flute—narrow, sharply pointed, and vertical in shape.
Its positive and negative sides were not front and back, but top and bottom.
The distribution of the realms wasn't symmetrical either.
The mortal realm occupied the lower half of the structure, spread across a vast triangular section.
The city's architecture mirrored the pipes of a pan flute: colossal, cylindrical structures rising in clusters.
Stretching across 40 astronomical units, this Star City held fewer than fifty buildings—shared between the mortal and underworld realms.
Each structure housed billions of cubic units worth of computational processing.
Layered like bamboo stalks, each level was immense—larger than Earth itself, and rising dozens of kilometers in height.
Inside, there was no greenery—just endless expanses of dark architecture.
Massive rectangular buildings filled the skyline, similar in design to the Titled Stations.
Had anything changed since the New Federation era, after humanity was incorporated into this system?
Of course.
On the outside, things remained the same. But the interiors had transformed.
Now, inside these vast towers, one could find supermarkets, shopping malls, and recreational areas that bore the unmistakable imprint of human culture.
Chg3 Street.
Jiheng was out shopping with his family in the mortal realm—a rare moment of peace in a world where life was short.
Time here was limited. People didn't have much of it to spare on leisure.
This world moved fast.
Everyone had to prove their worth.
But along the way, they often stumbled upon something else—something human civilization had a name for:
Emotion.
Emotions were strange, fascinating things. Once experienced, they could trap you—completely beyond your control.
Some emotions lifted you toward clarity and enlightenment.
Others dragged you down, deep into despair—sometimes so far that death seemed like a release.
They could create beauty or destroy everything.
It was this boundlessness that made them so compelling.
Jiheng bought a gift for his daughter—a small Federation biotech product.
Or maybe... it was a lifeform.
Or something like a lifeform.
It could be kept as a pet, and it could open its mouth and consume objects.
The items it ate weren't digested, but stored inside its body.
It was called a Backpack Beast—an oddly appropriate name.
As they stepped out of the pet store—surrounded by shimmering displays and curious biotech creatures—someone zipped past them at high speed, followed by several others.
A warning blared overhead:
[Warning! Disruptors have appeared in the mall. Please remain alert and prioritize your safety.]
The announcement was brief.
Jiheng watched the figures disappear into the crowd, but paid them no further attention. He gently guided his wife and daughter in another direction.
"Next, we're heading to the zoo," he said. "There are tons of fascinating physical lifeforms there."
His daughter cheered with excitement.
"Mommy is the best!"
They continued walking toward the zoo.
Then, without warning, a sharp, metallic screech echoed through the entire mall.
It sounded like steel being torn apart—ear-splitting, grating.
Though it didn't physically hurt, the volume was overwhelming, drowning out all other sounds and stopping everyone in their tracks.
People stood still, confused and curious.
A few seconds later, the mall's emergency system came online:
[That was an audio frequency released by the disruptors. The situation has been resolved. Please continue shopping and enjoy your day!]
"Why would disruptors release something like that?" someone wondered aloud.
"Probably just corporate sabotage."
Most paid no attention.
The crowd resumed moving as if nothing had happened.
Jiheng gently pulled his daughter forward.
Just then, not far ahead, he saw a person's body begin to swell unnaturally—violently expanding and contracting—before bursting apart and collapsing to the ground.
It didn't stop there.
Other people nearby began suffering the same fate.
To the onlookers, it was a nightmare: humans shattering like fragile shells, their remains pooling into thick, dark fluid on the floor.
Jiheng stared in horror.
He grabbed his wife and daughter.
"We have to go. Now!"
But the panic in his wife's eyes hit him before anything else.
He turned to her—and saw her body beginning to convulse in the same terrifying rhythm.
"No—!"
Jiheng screamed, throwing his arms around her, trying to protect her, trying to hold her together—
But it was too late.
Her body exploded in his arms.
He didn't even have time to mourn.
"Mommy!"
His daughter's scream rang out behind him.
He turned—and watched as her tiny frame trembled, distorted, then shattered completely.
Particles fell like dust.
In that moment, she ceased to exist—not just physically, but even in data. He could feel her vanish from the system.
It all happened in under thirty seconds.
More than 80% of the mall's population was gone.
"What the hell is going on?!" Jiheng shouted, trembling.
His own body fluctuated violently—but it was normal, just emotional stress.
The survivors around him seemed intact.
They began to breathe again.
But just as they thought the worst had passed—
Another shrill screech erupted.
Screech!!
Shorter this time. Sharper.
And with it came fresh horror.
People who'd survived the first wave began convulsing, collapsing.
A man near Jiheng turned to him, eyes wide with terror.
"Did you hear that?"
"What?" Jiheng asked, dazed.
"The sound! From the mall—did you hear it?"
He looked at Jiheng.
Jiheng was floating—there was no air here. That meant sound couldn't have traveled through the air.
The first time, the sound had been transmitted electrically, directly to their receiving units.
But this time, it was pure sound—vibrations through the structure itself.
Jiheng's mind began to piece it together. He'd missed something.
The man seemed to understand too. With the last of his strength, he shouted:
"Don't listen!"
The moment those words left his lips, he crumbled—his body collapsing like the rest.
Jiheng froze.
He understood.
It was the sound.
Anyone who heard it—died.
He immediately shut off all sound input.
"Sound is the killer. That wasn't a disruptor—it was a murderer."
It clicked instantly.
Disruptors usually just caused chaos—damage, sure, but not death.
This was different. This was execution.
The thought seemed absurd: How could sound kill people?
But he had clearly heard the first wave—and yet survived.
Why?
He didn't know.
He wasn't a scholar. There was nothing he could do to analyze it right now.
"No... I can't stay here."
A crushing fear swept over him—not from what was happening around him, but from what he was about to do:
Suicide.
In this civilization, death wasn't the end.
Ending one's life would bring access to more information, unlock higher layers of memory or awareness stored on the servers.
But it terrified him.
He had no memory of his previous lives. He only knew himself—this version, this life.
Even if another "him" existed in the underworld, would it still be him?
He was just one copy. One thread in a web of countless iterations.
And that terrified him.
But he had no choice.
As an ordinary person in the mortal realm, he had no access to answers.
He could've chosen to escape the mall—to survive and let others handle the mystery.
But after witnessing the deaths of his wife and daughter, something inside him snapped.
Anger. Grief. Hatred.
They radicalized him.
He didn't want to wait for justice.
He wanted to hunt down the killer himself—and kill him.
So, he chose suicide.
For mechanical lifeforms, death came without pain. It was like pressing a button—simple, immediate.
But the button was buried deep within the self.
A thick fog of instinct and fear had to be pierced to reach it.
Then, like countless others before him, his misty body disintegrated—falling into a cloud of powdered particles.
His consciousness was caught by the server, then slowly transferred across the layers—
from the mortal realm to the underworld.
In the underworld.
Someone woke up.
And the first thing he did—was curse.
"Stupid. But well done."
He cursed because this Jiheng hadn't only committed suicide to find the killer—
He'd done it hoping to reunite with his wife and daughter.
That hope made him act without hesitation.
But why "well done"?
Because this Jiheng, the version that had lived for over 200,000 years— instantly understood that this was no ordinary attack.
Killing with sound was, in theory, easy.
Sound is energy. It can carry power.
But what happened in the mall… wasn't just a high-energy wave shattering bodies.
No.
If it were that simple,
no one would have survived the first blast.
Moreover, if sound were the cause, their bodies should have collapsed as the sound arrived—not after.
But that wasn't what happened.
People only began to collapse a few seconds later, and it happened in a clear sequence.
That was highly abnormal.
Lorc—formerly Jiheng—couldn't think of any method that could cause such delayed yet precise cascading death.
At that moment, others nearby began to wake up as well.
Before returning to the mortal realm, one could choose their respawn point. Lorc had spent thousands of years in the underworld. He knew many of its long-time residents.
He recognized one of them as they stirred awake.
"Lorc, I didn't expect you to respawn before me. Something went wrong?"
That person had gone to the mortal realm before Lorc. Logically, they should've been the first to return.
"There was an incident. Mortal realm, Chg3 Street. Precise location: Chg3-283-ccc19Taj-12."
Chg3 Street was vast. Here, the term "street" referred not to a single road but to an entire layer of space inside the Star City.
Each layer was larger than Earth's surface area.
So all coordinates required full precision codes.
"Unfortunate," the person said with a sigh. "You didn't get to live a full cycle."
Then, trying to lighten the mood: "Wanna go out for a bit? My treat."
But Lorc wasn't in the mood.
"No. This incident is too strange. I can't access records from the mortal realm anymore—but I know you have ways around that, Kesiba."
Communication between the mortal and underworld realms was strictly prohibited.
But since they existed on opposite sides of the same Star City, even the servers couldn't block everything.
Kesiba raised an eyebrow, then responded with a knowing smirk.
"You're dead now, Lorc. Let it go."
Most people who died carried lingering attachments to their past lives.
Nearly every year, there were cases of underworld dwellers illegally returning to the mortal realm—and those who did were severely punished.
Lorc remained calm.
"You misunderstood. My family—my wife and daughter—were killed before I died."
"I'm not trying to reverse anything. I just want to find the truth."
"Because this death… wasn't normal."
Then he described to Kesiba what had happened at the mall—and the conclusions he'd drawn from it.
They had known each other for over ten thousand years.
Kesiba deeply trusted Lorc's words.
"If that's really what happened, then yes… this is more than just a random killing. That kind of weapon—if it even is a weapon—wouldn't be something a lone murderer could make."
"Maybe it was a crude prototype? That would explain the delayed effect."
Kesiba offered a possibility, though he didn't sound convinced.
Lorc wasn't sure either.
"That's why I need data from the mortal realm. I can't draw any real conclusions without it."
Kesiba paused.
Accessing mortal realm data while in the underworld was a serious offense. He'd done it before—just a few times—by exploiting subtle loopholes in the system.
Most of those loopholes had since been patched.
But he still knew people who could do it.
"I'll introduce you to York."
"Old friend. Not a scammer."
"I've got leverage on him—if you say I sent you, he'll treat you right."
Wherever there were restrictions, there was a black market.
And the most lucrative black market in the Eternal Cycle Star Nation was communication between the mortal realm and the underworld.
"Got it."
Lorc took down York's contact info from Kesiba.
After a brief farewell, he left to find him.
Meanwhile—
The mass death event in the mortal realm had not gone unnoticed by the server of Star City 5.
[Anomaly detected: Mass fatality event]
[Initiating investigation…]
[Unusual audio frequency file located. Receiving… analyzing… analyzing…]
[Analysis complete: File identified as unknown nonsemantic audio signal. No potential threat detected. Access permissions granted. Proceeding to next input…]
At the same time, the mortal realm police of Star City 5 had sent in a formal assistance request to the server.
They were asking for support in investigating the large-scale death on Chg3 Street.
No reply came.
"The server is ignoring us."
"Maybe… this whole event was a test. A server-side experiment."
"Withdraw all teams."
The police force in Star Cities only operated in a support role to the server.
If the server didn't respond—they didn't act.
The cordon around Chg3 Street was lifted.
Cleanup was swift.
The district reopened.
Life returned to normal.