The dark room remained unchanged — cold, sterile, unwelcoming. The air was dense, but not from heat. From the weight of things not said.
Holograms blinked quietly, rotating through universes one by one. Energy fluctuations, population scales, criminal heat maps. A new feed opened. A treaty file. High-priority diplomatic channel.
One masked figure spoke. Even here, in the deepest vault of ISA command, the voice held no warmth.
"We currently maintain passive treaties with Royal Families across the multiverse. Including the Universal Kings, known rulers of independently governed universes."
"But…" the voice shifted. Barely. A hint of gravity.
"We do not control them. Especially not Universe 07A — the most populated of all registered star clusters."
The hologram flickered, displaying scenes of massive arenas, stadiums, and high-speed combat duels. Thousands of people cheered across the screens.
"Universe 07A is home to the cultural phenomenon known as Blading — a sport that has overridden war. No governing body can suppress them without risking galactic revolt."
"Bladers — while individually dangerous — are untouchable. Popularity exceeds ISA reach. No political maneuver would survive public backlash if we targeted any major champion."
Names scrolled past in gold: Free, Blaze, Dante, Phi, Tenebris...
Their energy profiles registered high. But emotional resonance scans showed no hatred, no ambition to destroy.
"Their power is overwhelming, yes," one operative said. "But they are harmless children to the multiverse. Strong, but not strategic. No concern — yet."
Then came the shift.
The central hologram changed again. A new image: The Starlight Crest, burning.
"King Regulus, former ruler of all Twelve Crowned Universes, is dead. His entire family was wiped out. Massacred. The Starlight Bloodline now reduced to two: Anik and Rina Starlight. Survivors. Missing for three cycles."
"Anik has surfaced in Universe 07A — under King Xander Starcrest, ruler of that realm. Xander has begun investigation. His forces have mobilized."
"Hyperion Defenders — though officially working with ISA — have begun supporting Royal Families. Their loyalty is splitting."
"They serve the people. Not us."
That statement sat in the air like a knife pressed against steel.
"And now... Shinobi Verse has gone silent."
A new display emerged. Deep forest scans, seismic disruptions, hidden village blackouts. A thousand whispered anomalies across ten thousand planets.
"The Chūnin Exam is not an exam. It is a military trial. A prelude to war. The shinobi clans are preparing for something. Their energy readings have reached post-cataclysm thresholds. Bloodline awakenings are accelerating."
One mask leaned closer to the table, the white surface of the mask catching pale light.
"Someone or something is driving the multiverse toward a new conflict. Not from conquest. Not from rebellion. But from... design."
Another operative activated a universal scan report. Feed by feed:
Mecha Empires – fully robotic, no biological life, capital Mechatopia stable. No unusual data.
Titan Realms – Giant-class cybernetic war machines, currently dormant.
Dragon Universes – Mythical activity low. Governmental lockout.
Guardian Entity Realms – Under royal isolation. No transmissions in 3.4 cycles.
"All are silent. Too silent."
Then the final dossier slid across the dark: a symbol burned black into space — a circle devouring itself.
"One of our reconnaissance squads, composed of four elite S-Rank operatives, breached into Exo Planet-91A— seeking anomaly sources near the Void Shells."
"Only one message was recovered. The squad... was obliterated."
"Final intel transmission:"
The room fell darker. A voice crackled in — recorded seconds before death.
"He's real... he came from the nothing... not to rule... not to destroy... but to erase everything. His doctrine is clear— 'From Nothing, All Must Return.' Tell ISA... The Null Order is rising..."
"Then silence."
The Null Order
Leader: Overlord Zehrak
Origin: Unknown. Believed to have emerged from the Void Between Universes, where time collapses and logic burns.
Goal: Not conquest — but total erasure. Zehrak views existence as a flaw, a cosmic mistake that must be corrected.
Belief: Only by returning all matter to void can the multiverse achieve purity.
"His cult is growing. Their reach is unknown. Their doctrine spreads through black signal pulses. Untraceable. Unfiltered."
"They call it: Multiversal Cleansing."
The room was deathly quiet.
Then one voice. Calm. Without delay.
"We must consider one final action."
A slow blink from the main console. A forbidden command phrase.
"Project W.R."
Silence returned.
Only one voice replied.
"We swore we'd never activate him."
"That was before the king of kings died."
"Before the shinobi prepared for war."
"Before the Null Order began erasing stars."
"The White Reaper... was made for this."
"And if we wait—"
"There won't be anything left to save."
The atmosphere remained still, heavier than vacuum.
Flickers of static cycled through projected data, giving shape to the room's only light — the room itself seemed to breathe, slow and grave, in synchrony with the frequency of death.
The hologram in the center no longer spun.
Seinna Frostveil's profile hovered still. Her vitals displayed on the left: heart rate, chakra circulation, hormonal fluctuations. No irregularities.
One masked operative spoke first. Flat and without pause.
"Re-examination complete. Subject: Agent Seinna Frostveil."
"Biological scan: 100% human. No infection, no trauma residue. DNA structure stabilized."
"Neural patterns indicate recovery from prior events. Sexual interaction attempts with subject Jasper Tyros recorded. Consent mutual. No signs of coercion."
Another added, monotone.
"Emotional engagement high. Tactical focus: degrading. Mission priority slipping in favor of personal attachment."
"Countermeasure: dispatch a recalibration protocol. Deliver message of mission significance from HD Command — paired with 1,000,000 star credits to reinforce incentive-based loyalty."
"Flag future psych deviation for suppression chip recommendation."
There were no disagreements. The table simply absorbed the conclusion. Action logged. Protocol approved.
The room dimmed. Then changed.
A new holographic interface opened. A case matrix. So large it had to scale outward beyond the table — a spiraling data nebula of active ISA cases.
"Displaying current active files. Total caseload: 4.37 trillion."
Each case glowed a dull red — a galaxy of sin, violence, and extinction. Flickers indicated the classification codes:
Crimes against ISA.
Crimes against AI-kind.
Crimes against humanity.
Crimes against existence.
"Completed cases: 2.88 trillion."
"Pending: 1.49 trillion."
"Cold Files: 20.1 billion."
The masks did not react. There was no celebration in success. No sorrow in the weight of unending horror. Just data.
But then one point brightened. Pulsed. Expanded. A flagged anomaly. Case 3A-Omega-Null-24713.
"Planet Earth. Former designation: Type-2 class — 97.9% habitability.
Galactic position: Sector 19-X, outer rim of Universe 07A.
Population: 9.4 billion sentient life forms.
Status: Eradicated."
The hologram zoomed in. Earth's blue curve. Then blackness.
"Wiped from surface-level reality three months ago. Residual radiation: negative. Gravity: destabilized. Light memory: fragmented."
"Entire planetary echo erased. Not destroyed. Erased."
"Confirmed signature: same energy responsible for King Regulus's assassination."
A second of actual silence followed.
No words.
Just the projection, cycling through fragments of what Earth had once been: oceans, greenlands, cities… gone. The last image was a blood-red footprint in pure vacuum.
One operative finally spoke.
"Entity unknown. Not recorded in ISA archives. Not in ancient registries. Not AI. Not multiversal. Not Shinobi. Not Blader. No species match."
"Codename assigned: Echo Eater. Threat Level: Infinite."
Then came the cold conclusion — spoken as if noting the end of a grocery list.
"Observation Protocol activated. Timeline: Five standard ISA years."
"If current inter-universal entropy continues to escalate…"
"If factional instability reaches 61% threshold…"
"If Royal Family collapse continues…"
"If Null Order expands past containment zones…"
"We proceed with full activation of Project W.R. Not for revenge. Not for control."
"For stability. For survival. For silence."
"The White Reaper will not be our hero."
"He will be our last resort."
No applause. No further debate.
The lights flickered as the data closed, one line at a time, like stars dying out in the void.
Then came the final line of the meeting, whispered but digitally amplified, echoing throughout the dead chamber:
"Session terminated. Omega Null... watching."
The room dimmed.
The table shut down.
And the Ghosts vanished — as if they had never existed.
To be continue.....