Aisha returned to the chilled, oppressive quiet of the Banisher Citadel as soon as her R&R window closed. The shift in atmosphere was immediate: the air, usually silent, now held a faint, nervous energy, a static tension that spoke of political maneuvering. She had spent the last two hours of her leave watching the news feeds for any sign of the Scholar Family reacting to Femi's upload, but the VDC's information lockdown was absolute.
She reported directly to the Banisher Psionic Specialist, Operative Commander Elara, for her mandatory psychological debriefing. Elara was not clad in a standard Aegis Suit; she wore a customized, form-fitting Psionic Mesh—a suit designed to augment and shield powerful empathic and telepathic abilities. Elara was a woman of frightening stillness, her eyes sharp and unsettlingly vacant, constantly reading the ambient emotional field.
"Operative Aisha. Your anxiety levels are elevated post-R&R," Elara noted, her voice smooth and devoid of inflection, like a synthesizer. She didn't look at Aisha, but at the air around her, reading the energy field. "Your mission report details an extreme threat level, yet your emotional state indicates high-level deception."
Aisha forced her internal state into a practiced calm, leveraging the mental shielding techniques the VDC taught all high-level operatives to resist mind probes. "The encounter with the Void Host was highly stressful, Commander. I am also concerned about the political maneuverings of Chapter 15 and Captain Zara."
"Zara is a non-issue," Elara countered, finally meeting Aisha's eyes. Her gaze felt invasive, peeling back the layers of Aisha's composure. "We are concerned with Asset Kwandezi. His power signature at the hangar was unstable. You lied about the type of power used. Your logs indicate a Null-Kinetic pulse, but the residual energetic signatures left on the floor—even after Zaire's dampening field—suggest Molecular Transmutation."
A cold spear of fear pierced Aisha's practiced calm. Elara hadn't just read the combat logs; she had read the physical environment with a power that rivaled Kwandezi's own sensory ability.
"Kwandezi is volatile," Aisha maintained, her voice steady. "His power is not classified, Commander. It is simply unstable. My report was accurate to the best of my knowledge during a chaotic event."
"The asset is exhibiting high battle IQ and an unsettling level of control over mass and energy. Captain Zaire's report confirms the asset intentionally collapsed the floor to bypass his kinetic regulators—an instinctual tactical move that shows planning, not chaos." Elara leaned forward, her voice dropping to a psychological whisper. "The Banisher Council needs to know: Are you his Handler, or his accomplice?"
Aisha felt the subtle, non-physical pressure of Elara's psionic probe. It was a cold, gentle push against the walls of her mind, searching for the location of the evidence chips. Aisha instinctively tightened her mental shield, visualizing the chips safely uploaded and out of the Citadel. She would never break, but the exertion was exhausting.
"I am VDC, Commander," Aisha stated, locking down her gaze. "I follow protocol. My concern is the stability of the Veil."
The Isolation of Kwandezi
Meanwhile, in the sound-dampened isolation of Sub-Level 3, Kwandezi's forced solitude continued. The constant, oppressive hum of the dampeners was a physical challenge, making the precise control of his power exponentially harder. He had successfully achieved Ultimate Transmutation on his twin shortswords, but the effect was already subtly decaying under the dampening field.
He spent his time running through the Banisher combat forms, forcing his body to mimic the ruthless efficiency of Zaire. He knew the fight with his step-brother was a psychological attack disguised as a tactical engagement. Zaire hadn't wanted to kill him; he had wanted to contain and analyze his unpredictable power, using the fight to gather data.
They use my chaos to justify their control. They use their discipline to justify their murder, Kwandezi thought, his instincts screaming for action.
He used his newly perfected swords to practice a terrifying new technique. He would hold the blade inches from the Corundum-Steel wall, then focus his power into a narrow, ultra-precise beam. Not a Null-Kinetic blast, but a Molecular Frequency Disruptor. He was attempting to transmute a single, flawless, microscopic slit into the fortified steel—a demonstration of absolute, controlled mastery over matter. The effort was immense, draining his energy instantly, but each attempt was closer to success.
His life was reduced to this: a perfect sword, a perfect technique, and a perfect target.
The Market of Lies
While Aisha and Kwandezi fought their respective battles, the larger world of New Nigeria was quietly operating under the influence of the VDC's corruption.
Miles away, in a crowded Storm-Walker controlled market district, Nala, the operative Aisha had met, was spending the final hours of her R&R leave. She was not in a pristine Clean Zone but in a bustling, slightly dilapidated market surrounded by the towering, blocky, and heavily armed Storm-Walker barracks—architecture reflecting their military-first mentality.
Nala was buying components for a personal project—upgrading the sensor array on her personal Aegis Suit with non-regulation parts. She browsed a stall manned by a grizzled veteran who specialized in black market tech, his goods arrayed beneath a heavy camouflage tarp.
"I need a Class-A Sensor Regulator, sealed frequency," Nala requested, her voice low.
The vendor grinned, showing a missing tooth. "Ah, the Storm-Walkers and their secrets. You know the Ironclads control the raw resource flow, right? They keep the good stabilizers for their own industrial rigs. This is last generation, but sealed."
Nala purchased the regulator, the transaction a small, harmless act of disobedience. The VDC was supposed to be a unified force, but the Founding Families and their Chapter jurisdictions fostered a pervasive, low-level competition for resources and technology. The Ironclads hoarded the best stabilizers; the Storm-Walkers relied on black market upgrades; and the Banishers simply took what they wanted.
As Nala left the stall, her comms pinged—a highly encrypted, low-frequency alert from her Chapter Command.
ALERT: Chapter 4 VDC Command is now operating under Red Protocol for Information Security Breach. All operatives return to the Chapter Citadel for immediate data purge and briefing. Unauthorized data has breached the internal network.
Nala froze. Red Protocol for Information Security? That only happened when treason was discovered at the highest ranks, threatening the Veil's existence. Her instincts, honed from years of fighting massive Void-borne, screamed that this was a far bigger monster than any she had faced in the jungle.
She looked toward the bustling market, suddenly seeing the vibrant civilian life not as a constant, but as a fragile illusion. Aisha's move had landed. The information war had begun. Nala gripped her black market regulator and ran for the nearest public transport hub, heading toward the now chaotic, fear-ridden Storm-Walker Citadel. The political fallout was spreading across New Nigeria like wildfire.