To those who couldn't decipher it, the poster remained utterly meaningless.
But to those who could, its message was immediate and unmistakable.
It was enormous—two meters in length.
Embedded with an electronic chip, the poster could transmit its information even if someone couldn't detect visual signals. Through wireless transmission, its meaning could still be received.
Of course, this was only bait—an early spark to ignite caution in the target.
The real operation lay with Kesiba.
He had been tailing the target for quite some time, keeping a safe distance while identifying it through various unique markers, until finally tracking down its residence.
Then, he sent someone to discreetly paste a second poster on the wall outside the building.
At first glance, it looked completely ordinary.
The only distinguishing feature was a small line of print tucked away in the lower-right corner:
[Printed from Chg3-283-ccc19Taj-12]
This cryptic code pointed to a very specific location—Chg3 Alangelu Commercial City.
If the target were sharp enough to notice, it might recognize this detail and attempt to make contact with someone.
And that was exactly what they hoped for.
Even a simple act of communication could offer them valuable intelligence.
The target was not a reclusive type like the one from Chg3 Alangelu.
After entering its home, it soon emerged again—just as expected—and spotted the poster.
It stopped for a beat. Then, pretending not to care, it casually turned away and left.
It made its way toward another location, where it waited.
Kesiba didn't pursue further.
The trap had already been baited.
There was no need to make things messier or take unnecessary risks.
All that remained... was to wait.
And wait, he did. With infinite patience.
He was certain the target would return.
Maybe even not alone.
That single decision led to a month-long wait.
Eventually, the target did come back. Its appearance had changed slightly—subtle alterations in posture, facial contour, or clothing—but Kesiba immediately recognized it.
He had memorized everything about the target: proportions, micro-expressions, movement habits.
After simulating countless interactions in training over the past month, he had perfected this recognition.
Unless the target shapeshifted into a featureless void, it couldn't escape his notice.
Because familiarity isn't something that vanishes overnight.
Once again, the target examined the poster. Then it left.
Just as Kesiba had anticipated.
It exited the city, abandoned the district, and headed toward Chg.
Two days later, Lorc picked up the trail.
He spotted it combing the area, scanning every detail.
Eventually, in the Chg district, it stumbled upon a near-identical poster.
Instead of reacting, it backed away, found a safe location nearby, and began a silent stakeout.
And then, at last—it saw the one it was looking for.
The interaction was strangely smooth.
It greeted the individual as though they were old friends—no hesitation, no awkwardness.
They spoke for some time.
And then separated.
But there was something off about it all.
The one who left did so with an almost unnatural calm.
They didn't flee the area. They simply relocated, finding a place to lie low nearby.
Lorc asked: "What are they waiting for?"
Kesiba had no answer.
Logically, this should've been the moment to act—corner the one who had exposed them.
And yet… nothing. No movement. No panic.
Just eerie composure.
"Maybe it's a trick," Kesiba eventually said.
"To mislead us."
Lorc agreed. Their opponent was cautious to the extreme. Any misstep was unlikely.
But after hanging up the call, Kesiba sat in silence for half an hour.
And slowly, a chilling thought dawned on him.
Everyone assumed that even the most careful people make mistakes.
But what if that assumption was wrong?
What if this person never makes mistakes?
He picked up the phone again and called Lorc.
"Get out of there."
"They've already locked onto you."
Even before the words had fully left his mouth—
Ding-dong.
The doorbell rang.
Lorc didn't hesitate. He shot out the window and bolted from the area at full speed.
All the while, he kept the line open with Kesiba.
"How did they find me?"
Kesiba's voice was grave. "If I'm right, we walked into their trap from the very start."
"That surveillance trace…"
Lorc realized immediately.
The target had erased everything that should have been deleted—except for that one detail.
But what if it hadn't been overlooked at all?
He recalled what he and Kesiba had seen when they first entered the room.
"Although the room was messy and full of signs of life, now that I think about it… the mess felt staged."
In real life, clutter exists to make things easier to reach.
If someone regularly uses certain tools, those items will naturally end up within arm's reach. For example, a person who often works on a computer will have a desk scattered with cables, tools, devices—things they can grab without even standing up.
But that room didn't have that kind of logic.
The clutter served no practical purpose.
It was the kind of thing only noticeable upon reflection—if you were actively looking for inconsistencies.
A cold shiver ran down Lorc's spine.
"So he left those traces on purpose… to bait us, to mark us."
"Which means, all these years… it wasn't me watching him. He was watching me."
"A terrifying individual…"
Never underestimate anyone. That was the first real lesson he'd learned.
"What do we do now?"
They had been exposed. Whatever they did next would be infinitely harder.
"There are obstacles," Kesiba said, "but nothing insurmountable."
"They know we've noticed them. But they don't know whether there are two of us—or twenty."
"We stick to the original plan."
The original plan:
Uncover the target's true identity and intent.
Then figure out how to stop them.
The whole point of stirring the grass to scare the snake was to force the enemy to mobilize.
And the more people they deployed, the more weaknesses they exposed.
Their greatest advantage against this elusive group?
They were on the side of justice.
And that, for now, was enough.
"Then I'll play the bait," Lorc said.
If a covert strike was no longer an option, then it would have to be an open battle.
He wasn't stupid enough to fight alone.
Sure, lone-wolf heroics made for good drama—but in real life, when you have the upper hand, you call in support. And he had plenty.
Lorc drafted an anonymous report to the police, providing intel on the organization—along with the data he'd been compiling for years.
Even if the police didn't believe him, they'd investigate.
And an investigation meant escalation.
They hadn't done this earlier simply because they didn't have enough information. Stirring the grass had been a way to gather that missing intel. But once the police got involved, it would be equivalent to flipping the table.
No one knew what would happen once the table was overturned.
Which was why they'd waited.
But now, everything had changed.
Overturning the table was no longer a risk.
It was their best move.
And just because they flipped the table didn't mean they were giving up.
On the contrary—this was only the beginning.
Eternal Cycle Star Nation.
Star City 1.
After Hossie lost contact, Luna and Chu began investigating—hoping to trace any clue, any lead.
But it wasn't easy.
They discovered that data had been fractured.
Fragments were missing—even within Star City 1.
Which, in theory, should have been infiltrated long ago.
"We never even noticed a thing."
"This... this is a calculated attempt to consume the entire Eternal Cycle Star Nation."
Everything around them was being stripped away.
And yet no one was acting.
The realization left Chu furious—and helpless.
Because he couldn't even locate the enemy.
All communication had been severed.
"It's not hopeless."
"We've identified the threat, haven't we?"
It was just that some of the deeper systems were now out of reach.
Luna had once considered the possibility: What if everything she possessed could become her own chains?
Now, that suspicion had become a reality.
What gave Luna, Chu, and others in power their control?
Not their willpower. Not their authority.
The server.
The server was their weapon—and their crutch.
And now that it had been compromised, they were like soldiers stripped of limbs. Blind and deaf.
In this so-called "war," they were completely cut off from intelligence.
Luna began searching for a solution.
She fragmented her mind into multiple instances, letting them roam Star City 1, scraping together whatever data they could.
But the results were meager.
"At this rate, we're just waiting to die!" Chu snapped.
The enemy's tactics were devastating.
They were stuck.
Caught in a silent, invisible war.
"What exactly are we waiting for?"
Chu turned to Luna.
She wasn't panicking at all.
He couldn't understand it.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked.
Luna shook her head. "I don't know exactly… but I know there's something worth waiting for."
They couldn't go on the offensive—there was no actionable intel.
So, they would be passive.
The resilience of a civilization wasn't determined by its leaders alone—but by every individual within it.
Still, to Chu, it felt more like they were just waiting to die.
A bitter wave of frustration washed over him.
He had once believed everything would be prosperous. That even under the looming threat of the Connectors, the Eternal Cycle Star Nation would rise—would thrive.
They were on the path to becoming a level 2.7 civilization, maybe even nearing the peak of development.
He had been too optimistic.
But just as despair took hold, Luna suddenly stood up.
"It's here."
"What is?" Chu blinked.
Luna didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pulled up a data stream and displayed it.
"News from Star City 5. A death event occurred inside the city. The server there has apparently been compromised."
"It mirrors our situation exactly."
"But someone's already investigating it. Survivors, most likely—caught in the middle of it. I hope they make it."
The most important takeaway from that message?
People.
Someone was behind these death events. They didn't happen spontaneously—they had been caused.
"So it's confirmed," Chu muttered. "There are civilization spies on Dancer."
"And not just there," Luna added. "The Star Cities too. Multiple infiltrators—possibly an entire network."
"But why now?"
"It likely coincides with the formal birth of the Eternal Cycle Star Nation," Luna theorized.
The old Eternal Democracy had been, at its core, a single-entity system—its social fabric relatively simple and direct.
In such systems, even subtle anomalies created large ripples.
But the Eternal Cycle Star Nation was different.
It had a dual structure: the mortal realm and the underworld. This brought complexity—too much complexity.
Disturbances could slip through unnoticed.
People would see strange occurrences and simply shrug them off as normal.
Even those who suspected something was wrong—
Their voices wouldn't be loud enough to reach the top.
The enemy knew this.
And they exploited it.
"Civilization spies…" Chu's whole body tensed. He felt like he was splitting apart, heat flooding his skin.
To any civilized society, infiltration on this level was a red line.
But Luna remained calm.
"Relax. They may not be traitors from within. It's also possible they were enemies from the start—agents who embedded themselves long ago."
"The priority now is identifying them."
"And I'll handle that."
Luna took over.
Chu had the capability, but he also had emotions—and that made him vulnerable.
Luna directly accessed the core server, unleashing its full computational resources to run a population-wide scan.
Disappearance could be a shield.
But in some cases—it could also be a spotlight.
If the spies didn't exist in the system at all, then it was only a matter of cross-referencing existing individuals.
All surveillance nodes in Star City lit up simultaneously.
In the Eternal Cycle Star Nation, these systems were the civilization's eyes and ears. They were everywhere—watching, recording, building reality.
Now, everyone who appeared before a camera was outlined in a frame.
Green: Verified.
Yellow: Partial mismatch.
Red: No match found.
They began scanning—one by one.
Within days, Luna had a shortlist.
The "spies."
And she didn't stop there.
She bypassed the mainframe entirely, diving into deep forensic tracking on these individuals.
Every trace mattered—movement history, spoken patterns, microbehaviors.
"Interesting…"
"What is it?" Chu asked.
"I couldn't find any network login data for them."
Chu's expression darkened.
"You call that interesting? If they can bypass even your authority, that's terrifying."
Luna wasn't just any authority.
She was the highest authority within human civilization.
If she couldn't locate them—then how far beneath the surface were these operatives?
"At first, I thought the same," Luna admitted. "That they'd somehow bypassed me."
"But the more I thought about it… the more that theory fell apart."
"This is my domain. If the enemy could truly bypass my authority, it would mean they're from a civilization vastly superior to ours—capable of crushing us outright."
"But that doesn't align with what we've observed so far. Their actions are too careful, too methodical."
Chu frowned. "But weren't you the one who initially thought they might be testing the civilization behind the Connectors?"
"That's true," Luna replied, her gaze distant. "If that were the case, then everything they're doing now would make perfect sense."
Logical?
It was, in fact, a logical fallacy.
"From the very beginning," Luna said, "they were never trying to avoid the Connectors' detection. They were pushing boundaries—testing limits—without fear of exposure."
"There's no need for them to feign weakness. On the contrary, conserving strength and displaying power makes the Connectors believe humanity isn't even worthy of assimilation."
"If this is all they've done so far, then it's not that they bypassed my authority. They simply never accessed the network at all."
"These... individuals—they're not themselves. They're just shells."
Luna could have seized them all right then and there.
But she didn't.
Because one thing still eluded her: their method.
How exactly had they achieved everything up to this point?
Star City 5.
The police took Lorc's intelligence very seriously.
Until now, the series of unexplained deaths had always been chalked up to top-level decisions—classified operations, secret security measures. The kind of events no one wanted to dig into.
But Lorc's report flipped everything.
If the nature of these events was different than previously assumed, then their entire framework of explanation—built on convenience and denial—collapsed instantly.
The truth was painful.
If they'd simply investigated more thoroughly earlier, they might've uncovered something vital. But in a hyper-developed civilization like theirs, local officials had very little real power. Their instinct was always to defer—to assume it was someone else's jurisdiction.
That laziness had a cost.
Now, facing Lorc's intel—and with pressure mounting from other districts—their assumptions could no longer hold.
They began connecting scattered reports and cases, gathering intelligence from across the network.
The result was staggering: the number of deaths was far higher than previously believed.
And if this ever became public?
Punishment would be swift and merciless.
In this era, the principle of "too many to punish" no longer applied.
Even if the list of criminals numbered in the trillions—those who were guilty would be hunted down, one by one.
They had no choice.
They had to act.
But immediately, they hit a wall.
There were no leads. No suspects. No paths to pursue.
It was like discovering a corpse at Location A—except there were no surveillance feeds, no witnesses, no known contacts, and the corpse itself couldn't be identified.
What could anyone even do?
The investigation stalled from the start.
This was something Lorc and Kesiba had long anticipated.
The police were too dependent on the central server. And with that system compromised, they were effectively blind.
Still, the police served a purpose.
In this version of stirring the grass to scare the snake, they weren't disturbing a patch of grass—they were setting fire to an entire prairie.
Their role: disrupt the ecosystem. Force movement. Create noise.
Lorc left the Chg3 district and relocated to another.
Here, he would wait.
Wait for the enemy to move.
Wait for the police to find something—anything—that could point toward them.
And when they did, he'd pick up the trail and act.
He checked into a floating residence—a mid-air structure shaped like a CD, suspended silently above the city.
From the inside, he had a panoramic view of the earth below.
Less than an hour after checking in, someone knocked on the door.
Lorc's instincts flared.
Had he been found?
He froze—but quickly calmed himself. The odds were slim.
A quick scan through the surveillance system showed a hotel staff member outside.
Still, he didn't go to the door.
Instead, with a thought, he triggered the remote unlock.
The door slid open.
But the staff member didn't enter.
Instead, it raised its hand—and tossed a small white orb into the room.
The moment it crossed the threshold, the orb released a hissing cloud of gas.
Then the staff member calmly closed the door.
Lorc moved instantly.
This was a hit.
And the gas—if it filled the room—would make escape impossible. Contact was inevitable.
He triggered a vacuum barrier around himself. A field of particle repulsion—something he'd developed long ago. But it wasn't enough. The vacuum could only repel so much, and this gas was dense, thick, and massive in volume.
Escape?
No time.
The windows were made of solid, pressure-resistant glass. Unbreakable under normal means.
To flee, he'd need to shatter the glass.
But even if he broke it, the gas would rush out too—and he might not be fast enough to outrun the plume.
What now?
He came up with a plan—a violent one.
He'd detonate a part of his own body.
The shockwave would push the gas away from him, at least momentarily.
Even if some of it grazed him, the explosive force would disrupt the gas's molecular structure—enough to weaken it.
He initiated the explosion—an internal detonation.
The shockwave blasted outward.
In the same instant, it blew out the window glass.
That was his opening.
And he launched himself out of the floating structure.
"How is this even possible?!"
"How did they track me down so fast?"
Only now did Lorc finally have time to stop and think.
A chill crept up his spine.
There had to be eyes—constantly—watching his every move.
But how?
How could he get rid of those invisible eyes?
I've been marked!
Lorc sent a quick message to Kesiba.
The reply came twenty minutes later.
I've been marked too.
But at this point… it's clear.
These people are more prepared than we thought.
I have regrets.
But regret's useless. No antidote for that in this world. So we keep playing.
Did you find anything? How did they lock onto you?
The urgency in Kesiba's message was palpable.
Lorc fired back:
No idea!
Could be network triangulation. Or someone tailing me.
But network triangulation required server-level authority.
If the enemy already had that?
Then Star City 5 was already compromised.
No—that's too inefficient.
They found us too fast.
They must have some other method.
You safe right now? Kesiba asked.
Lorc glanced around.
No pursuit. No obvious trail.
He moved toward the outskirts of the city, doing everything he could to avoid human contact.
Thankfully, Star City's massive sprawl meant even densely populated districts had wide, empty zones.
This one was barren.
The sky was black.
The land was black.
Even the domes dotting the horizon were coated in dull matte, as if swallowing light itself.
Oppressive silence.
His personal sensors—the only thing helping him perceive the environment—picked up no surveillance devices.
Should be safe… for now.
But I need to be sure.
They're coming after us like this because they see us as threats.
He sent the message.
And waited.
No reply.
Too long.
Kesiba was in worse shape.
Lorc stayed hidden. A full day passed.
No pursuit.
So far, so good.
He descended to the ground, deciding to construct a temporary hidden shelter. The city was off-limits for now.
But just as that thought crossed his mind…
He sensed something—movement—approaching from afar.
He immediately focused his sensors.
One figure.
Just one.
But in a place like this?
Where no one should be?
That wasn't random.
That was them.
"Like damn phantoms…" Lorc muttered.
Without hesitation, he launched himself back into the air, fleeing deeper into the wilderness.
Hours later, a message finally came from Kesiba:
There's no shaking them. I feel surrounded.
They can pinpoint me instantly.
Lorc replied: They took longer to find me. It's slightly better here. You need to get further from the city.
Already outside. Still no good.
Kesiba's response was short. Frustrated.
But the question now was how they were being tracked.
Lorc reflected.
He'd been safe for a full day.
Then the moment he changed locations, they found him again.
There had to be a connection.
He dropped down and stood still.
And then—he felt it.
He widened his sensory range, digging into his mechanical perception down to the molecular level, he could sense very faint things.
The ground… was actually vibrating.
The vibration frequency and amplitude were extremely small, almost imperceptible.
But it was definitely there.
Lorc's eyes narrowed.
"Damn it…"
"They're tracking us through the ground!"
"Get off the ground!"