Lorc was gripped by an overwhelming sense of dread.
He knew the enemy had the power to kill using sound alone.
If all of Star City was bathed in this kind of sound-based influence, then wasn't every life within it effectively under their control?
They could end anyone, at any moment.
"No," he muttered to himself. "If they truly had that kind of omnipotence, why go to such lengths—why orchestrate all these elaborate killings?"
Just then, a transmission came through from Kesiba.
"They're leveraging the vibrational structure of the entire Star City."
"It's still at the atomic level, hasn't crossed into the molecular domain."
"Logically, the main server should've detected this."
"That it didn't... suggests we may have severely misjudged them."
"We can't stay in Star City any longer—we have to leave!"
But if the main server hadn't sounded any alerts...
Then had it already been compromised?
Lorc could feel Kesiba's panic seeping through the text feed. Her fear was almost tangible.
Yet strangely, it was this panic that calmed him.
No—if the enemy had truly seized control of the main server, they wouldn't need to resort to something like the tangible apple method just to locate them. Any trace they left online would've been instantly harvested.
Which raised an even more pressing question:
How were they bypassing the server's detection protocols?
He himself could clearly perceive the effects of the tangible apple. So why couldn't the central system?
What Lorc needed now was access—someone who could dive into the main server and investigate directly.
Though he was online, he was only operating through a terminal stub—a temporary unit.
Without valid credentials, he couldn't fully integrate into the network.
And if you couldn't enter the network, the main server was out of reach.
"Even if we leave Star City, where would we go?"
"Star City 4 may have gone dark for this exact reason. It's possible other cities are facing the same threat."
"Would you abandon your civilization that easily?"
Lorc halted Kesiba's spiraling thoughts.
Running away wouldn't help. What they needed was to identify the threat—and neutralize it.
Kesiba had always erred on the side of pessimism. And now, with the enemy's capabilities becoming clearer, she was starting to grasp just how terrifying they truly were.
They weren't chosen heroes. They were just ordinary people.
Insignificant.
"So what can we do?"
Kesiba had already found a hiding spot. She planned to do nothing—just lie low.
But that wasn't a strategy. It was stalling.
Running wouldn't buy them answers. They needed intelligence. Real data.
"We have to capture one of them," Lorc said flatly.
It was the only way to break through the fog.
"Capture? If we could capture one of them, we wouldn't have ended up in this mess to begin with."
They were cut off, isolated—two small bodies that, together, barely added up to one full adult.
In the mortal realm, their physical presence was minimal. They couldn't rely on backup or reinforcements.
And now, they'd already been detected.
Trying to capture the enemy now? It sounded like pure fantasy.
"We're under lockdown. The only way out is death."
"We have to return to the underworld. As long as their lock isn't attached to our consciousness, we can still regroup."
Lorc had already considered this fallback.
Kesiba didn't even hesitate.
"Then let's die."
And just like that, she ended her life.
Lorc stared at the comms feed. Her terminal blinked out—offline. Her presence wiped clean from the grid.
He had hoped to prepare a little more, but the risk was too great. After a moment's deliberation, he followed suit.
Death.
And then—
They awakened in the same place.
The underworld.
Their bodies were stored inside a structure resembling a massive honeycomb. Each cell was roughly 30 centimeters wide and 50 centimeters deep—just enough to hold the biological matter of a single being.
The honeycomb itself was a dark, metallic gray. It looked like a cross between a morgue and a machine—part locker, part wall.
Fifty meters high. Two kilometers across.
And this was just one module.
Each unit could store up to 1.11 million bodies.
After their deaths, the contents of the cells began to stir—reassembling, activating.
Their matter flowed outward like dry quicksand, spilling onto the floor, coalescing into a misty form.
Upon returning to the underworld, Lorc spotted Kesiba.
She met his gaze.
"This just proves our original plan wasn't a good solution."
Lorc thought to himself—Kesiba had always been something of a perfectionist.
"Even if it didn't go perfectly, we were operating in total uncertainty."
"The fact that we made it this far? That's already an achievement."
He turned away.
"Let's move."
Kesiba followed close behind. "Where to?"
"We need to get in touch with the main server again. I want to see if it's aware of what's happening with the tangible apple."
Lorc led them toward a small, nondescript office.
Inside, the man on duty looked mind-numbingly bored.
There wasn't much activity in the underworld. Most people were off in the mortal realm, where things actually happened.
That's why time limits and currency fees existed here—so people didn't linger.
"Dawn," Kesiba said as they entered. "Help us reach the main server."
Dawn—apparently the guy's actual name—barely looked up.
Instead of responding to Kesiba, he turned to Lorc.
"You mentioned something was sent out last time. I just got a reply—from Star City 1."
Both Lorc and Kesiba froze.
"What did it say?" Lorc asked.
Dawn hesitated for two seconds before answering.
"Just four words: Good luck to you."
…What?
That was it?
Kesiba's brows furrowed. "Aren't they supposed to be helping us?"
Lorc exhaled slowly.
"It's just as I feared—Star City 1 is in trouble too."
It likely meant they were knee-deep in their own crisis and couldn't spare a second for distant allies, even those light-years away.
"If even Star City 1 is compromised…" Kesiba's voice was already dripping with dread.
Lorc cut her off before she could spiral further.
"We'll deal with that later. First, we ask the main server."
"Ask if it's aware of the Star City's vibration patterns."
Dawn didn't move.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair and said, "I can answer that for you."
"The vibrations you're talking about likely stem from ongoing two-dimensional field research."
"The microscopic world is still mostly uncharted, so a lot of companies have started probing deeper—trying to crack open the quantum field."
"According to Quantum Field Theory, everything in our reality is just a disturbance in the quantum field. The newer models suggest that the field itself might actually be two-dimensional."
"So as we continue experimenting with the field, it triggers localized fluctuations. Those quantum vibrations then ripple through Star City as a whole."
"This is public info. You probably missed it because you haven't looked into that sector."
Lorc and Kesiba started digging into the data then and there.
Dawn was right.
Star City's vibrations had been documented for some time.
But...
Was that really the full picture?
"If those vibrations were officially reported," Lorc said slowly, "then the main server wouldn't flag them. Or... maybe we've misunderstood everything?"
The two of them were knee-deep in confusion, like being caught in a swamp with no clear path forward.
"What exactly is it you're afraid of?" Dawn asked.
Lorc didn't hold back. He laid out their entire deduction process so far.
By now, Dawn had become something of an unofficial teammate—there was no point in hiding anything.
Dawn listened in silence, then tapped on his terminal.
"Wait. Let me show you something."
A moment later, an old news report popped up:
[HHHI Corporation Experiences Serious Accident — Mass Casualties Confirmed!]
"This report's from a few hundred years ago."
"The reason I know about it—even down here—is because the underworld couldn't locate the souls tied to that incident."
"At the time, it was believed those people's consciousnesses had faded completely. Wiped from existence. That made the tragedy stick in my memory."
"What's more—HHHI Corporation is one of the few groups that was actively researching low-dimensional worlds."
It all started to click into place.
Low-dimensional exploration wasn't for amateurs. It required mind-bending tech and a bottomless budget.
Even in a metropolis the size of Star City 5, companies doing this kind of work could be counted on one hand.
After all, returns from microscopic-world exploration were notoriously difficult to secure.
"Are you saying HHHI Corporation is behind all this?" Kesiba asked, her tone sharp—like she'd just latched onto something.
Dawn shook his head. "Not a chance."
"HHHI is backed by the Federation. Their tech is on another level entirely."
"They went through a full investigation after the incident—and nothing turned up."
While many believed the Federation and the Star Nation to be bitter rivals, this was mostly a façade—a carefully curated narrative. It was meant for the mortal realm. Those who lived in the underworld knew better.
The Federation had no reason to antagonize the Star Nation. The two superpowers were in a state of active peace.
Especially now, when the Federation was already entangled in warfare with twenty-eight other Star Nations. Dragging the Eternal Cycle Star Nation into the conflict would serve no purpose.
And even if they did want to strike… this wasn't how they'd do it.
These killings targeted civilians.
The Federation didn't play like that—not if their measured battlefield conduct against twenty-eight hostile forces was anything to go by.
"The enemy's masking themselves from the main server," Dawn continued. "They're using something."
"But it's not the Federation. That's only a strong probability, not a certainty."
He emphasized the point—they were making educated guesses. As low-ranking individuals, they didn't operate at the level where strategic truths were handed down. They were in the dark, like everyone else.
Lorc made up his mind.
"We need to visit HHHI Corporation."
But Dawn stopped him. "Actually, there's no need."
"HHHI's main office isn't in the mortal realm. It's here—in the underworld."
"A lot of major tech firms set up base here. R&D takes time—sometimes centuries. It's not practical to rotate staff every few hundred years."
"We can reach out to their executive team right now. And frankly? That's what I'd suggest."
To Dawn, Lorc and Kesiba were overly cautious.
Not that caution was bad. In fact, it was probably what had kept them alive this long.
But the downside was equally clear: when you're always second-guessing, you fall behind. You waste time, miss windows.
"You can leave this to me," Dawn said. "I have a pretty good idea of what you're after."
He didn't say this out of some noble desire to help.
He simply didn't believe HHHI Corporation had anything to do with the current crisis.
After all, he personally knew someone on the company's executive board.
Don't underestimate the underworld's minor clerks—they had connections.
"That's perfect," Lorc said. He and Kesiba had hoped to avoid dealing with a corporate behemoth directly.
It was too tangled, too slow. It could take years just to get the tiniest sliver of information.
"I'll give you a terminal," Lorc added. "Use it to contact us later."
He handed Dawn a device, then left with Kesiba.
Their original mission hadn't changed.
"Dawn clearly trusts HHHI," Lorc said as they walked. "And maybe he's right—maybe the corporation's clean."
"But we can't afford to wait for answers. We move forward with the capture plan."
Kesiba could see the tension in Lorc's expression. He knew Lorc wasn't letting this go.
"To capture one of them," Kesiba said, "we don't need to forge a whole new identity."
"We can just fly straight to the mortal realm."
Since the enemy could dodge the main server's surveillance, flying directly into the mortal realm wouldn't trigger alarms either.
Lorc nodded. It was the cleanest plan.
But there was a catch.
It wasn't just about getting around the main server. The route into the mortal realm was heavily guarded—patrolling drones, automated checkpoints, airtight procedure.
They'd never get in without help.
"This is where York comes in," Kesiba said.
Lorc raised an eyebrow. "Didn't York say he wanted out?"
Kesiba scoffed. "Do you trust him—or do you trust me, a former Star Nation leader?"
"That guy's just laying low. He hasn't made enough money yet."
"Maybe you told him your theory. If so, it probably excited him."
"The more chaos there is, the more business types like him thrive. Honestly, I'd bet what you told him is already spreading through certain underworld circles."
Lorc sighed. That... did sound like York.
Everyone they'd dealt with so far was sharp, opportunistic. York just had fewer brakes and more greed.
Kesiba knew him well—an old comrade, maybe not in arms, but certainly in profit.
He led Lorc to someone who might know York's current whereabouts.
The person seemed to owe Kesiba a favor—and gave up the location without hesitation.
They soon arrived at another shop—this one vastly different.
It radiated luxury, styled like a royal members-only club. The interior gleamed with sleek chrome and ambient lighting. Despite the opulence, it sold only one kind of thing: machine parts—critical components required to extend the lifespans of mechanical beings like them.
There were rows of hyper-precise sensors, high-fidelity processors, and other fine-tuned components on display.
York spotted them the moment they stepped in. His reaction was explosive, like he'd seen a ghost.
"Damn it! I can't get away from you people, can I?"
He pointed an accusatory finger. "It was that bastard Shetton, wasn't it? I should've never contacted him again."
Kesiba didn't waste time playing coy.
"Take us to the mortal realm," he said flatly.
The communication between the two was blunt—brutally direct.
"I don't run that kind of job," York replied without hesitation.
"You do now," Kesiba answered coldly. "We've already bypassed the main server. All that's left is your part."
At that, York's eyes lit up. He leaned in closer, intrigued.
"How the hell did you evade the main server?"
Kesiba gave him nothing—his silence was the answer.
York paused, then started recalculating.
"Alright. 20,000 Energy Credits. Not a single credit less."
Kesiba grabbed him by the collar.
"Cut the crap. Not only are we going—we're taking you with us."
"This is life and death."
Lorc observed quietly, uncertain what kind of relationship these two actually had.
But eventually, York gave in.
Lorc still wasn't sure how Kesiba convinced him.
York turned to him and said, "I'll ready a ship. It was originally for my personal escape from Star City 5."
"But let me make this clear: I'm not part of your little adventurer drama."
The "ship" he referred to was, in fact, a starship.
Roughly 130 meters in length, its design followed a distinctive H-frame layout. The two lateral structures, resembling crescent moons, were engine wings.
York had named it Devil's Mark.
It bore a black hull streaked with silver veins. The name came not just from its eerie vibe, but because its shape vaguely resembled a stingray—sleek, aggressive, alien.
The ship's core was compact: a 10-square-meter cockpit, a 40-square-meter space reserved for DataNodes, and no true living quarters. Just a few cubic meters of crawlspace, resembling honeycomb pods, where passengers could wedge themselves in during long hauls.
A large triangular cargo module had been affixed to the stern—over 2,000 square meters in size.
The Devil's Mark could reach a top velocity of 54,000 km/s.
In general, starships sacrificed speed for scale. Their larger mass gave them less immediate thrust—but also allowed them to build momentum over time, eventually surpassing smaller vessels in velocity ceilings.
This ship was fully registered—a costly process in the Eternal Cycle Star Nation.
But so long as favors still mattered in Star City, registration could still serve as an escape plan.
This was York's only card.
The group boarded Devil's Mark, and without further delay, departed from Star City 5.
After flying for about 100 astronomical units, well beyond the city's network perimeter, the ship performed a wide arc—looping back toward Star City 5's mortal realm.
A ring of surveillance drones and defensive machines floated silently around the city's perimeter.
Their primary role was to fend off network-based attacks—but they also functioned as traffic regulators and identification probes.
"What the hell are you doing?" York shouted as he caught sight of Kesiba in the DataNode chamber, fingers dancing across the controls.
In order to tamper with low-level data inside a DataNode, a physical connection was required. Wireless access was completely sealed off. High-tier firewalls made sure of that.
But Kesiba was already inside—modifying the node's deepest levels.
He injected falsified Chg transit data, masking the ship's true ID. In seconds, he had renamed the entire vessel to:
Chg3 Alangelu Commercial City.
The defense machines outside would, of course, scan them.
But upon doing so, they would query Star City's main server for verification and behavioral protocols. Yet, because that particular node now contained valid metadata, the main server would return... nothing.
That nothing was the key.
The probes would interpret the silence as approval.
It was a loophole.
And frankly, it shouldn't have worked.
A flaw in the system, plain and simple. Star City's defenses weren't supposed to be that easy to fool—main server reply or not.
But the truth was, there were no human administrators overseeing these processes anymore.
Everything was entrusted to the central AI. The logic was simple: the main server was more accurate and reliable than any human. Human oversight would only bottleneck reaction times.
Humans were too slow to parse that kind of data.
And so, Devil's Mark slipped through the net—undetected.
York stood there stunned, watching it all happen.
He finally understood the gravity of the situation.
If they could do this, others could too.
The defense grid was hollow.
And if it was hollow out here, what about inside Star City?
The mortal realm did have its own spaceport—but while entry was permitted, exit was another matter entirely.
The restriction existed for one key reason: the mortal realm was defined by its limited lifespans and unique biological conditions.
If someone left the mortal realm for Star City, their lifespan would undoubtedly increase. However, once they died in Star City, their consciousness could never return to the mortal realm.
After arriving, Lorc and Kesiba instructed York to stay close.
Once they'd cleared the spaceport, they made their way toward Chg3 Street.
Chg3 Street.
The area had been anything but peaceful lately.
Police patrols had intensified. Surveillance systems showed glaring gaps—missing footage from key timeframes. This alone made one thing clear: the string of recent murders weren't part of any server-sanctioned experiment.
If the server had been responsible, the data wouldn't be missing.
Think of it like having security cameras in your own home. If you, the homeowner, did something embarrassing, would you really go out of your way to erase that footage?
Why would you?
It's your house—you control the system. If someone else tried to view it, you could just deny access. There's no reason to tamper with the data unless you're hiding something from someone with higher authority.
But in this case, the footage was gone.
Which meant the server itself wasn't behind the killings.
The authorities responded with sweeping patrols. Anyone acting strangely—especially those without ID—was stopped and questioned.
Still, days passed without progress.
They didn't even know what they were hunting.
Then suddenly, a citywide alert rang out:
[Unidentified Individuals Detected]
Units mobilized instantly.
Combat broke out moments later.
The city began to crumble.
It was a silent war—no fire, no explosions—because no gas had been released. The raw destructive force dissipated as light and heat, or was absorbed directly into the urban infrastructure.
Buildings collapsed in waves.
From a nearby rooftop, three figures silently observed the chaos below.
"I told you I wanted no part in this," York muttered, already halfway turned to leave—but still rooted in place.
Lorc began to suspect that Kesiba had leverage on York, some hidden weakness that kept him tethered.
"We can't catch anyone without your help," Kesiba replied coldly.
They had engineered this encounter from the start.
Both Lorc and Kesiba had uploaded detailed records of their prior physical forms. The moment they re-entered Star City, they'd reconstructed those same bodies, knowing full well it would attract attention.
And it worked.
Their appearance acted like a beacon, drawing in the unknown enemy.
They had waited until now to enact the plan because they'd previously been under constant surveillance. Preparation had been impossible.
Now, with a bit more freedom—and the right gear—they could finally act.
Thankfully, they'd smuggled in the necessary tools from the underworld.
"Let's do it," Kesiba said.
He and York each carried a compact square device—a particle-binder that could immobilize mechanical lifeforms at the quantum level.
Once activated, it locked down all local particles: no fusion, no fission, no signal transmission—total stasis.
Lorc launched forward, letting himself be seen by a nearby officer.
Then he bolted in the opposite direction.
The unknown enemy, also under pursuit, spotted Lorc's movement.
Lorc turned and gave a subtle wave.
It was the only signal he could safely use.
Sound or data could be tracked—could compromise them.
But a hand gesture? Simple. Safe.
The pursuer noticed and followed.
Lorc darted between two buildings.
Above them, Kesiba and York waited.
The pursuer trailed Lorc into the alley.
The moment he crossed the threshold—
The trap triggered.
The binder activated.
The target's body locked down.
Particles frozen in place.
Target secured.