Chapter One.

Shattered Republic ( Part 1).

The skies over Rein City blazed with golden hues, as towering clouds glowed like citadels in the setting sun's light. It was a scene of striking beauty, the kind that might give anyone pause.

A young girl of about thirteen carefully tucked the warm loaves of bread under her arm and gave the shopkeeper a shy smile.

"Thank you so much!" she said, her eyes bright with appreciation.

"You're welcome, dear," the elderly woman replied kindly. "Now, off you go. No detours, and tell your mother I say hello."

With a spirited skip, the girl darted down the street, her energy making the shopkeeper chuckle. She followed a familiar path toward the suburbs, where traffic dwindled to almost nothing. Her house stood on Seventh Street, the third on the row—easy to spot with its unique red roof tiles.

When she saw the front door ajar, a small shiver of surprise ran through her. Then she remembered her mother had promised to come home early. As she hurried inside, she smiled, already imagining the treats her mother might have brought.

"Mum! Madam Gilbert says hello, and guess what? We have a new teacher, and she promised us candy tomorrow!" The girl tossed the bag of bread onto the carpet, diving toward the couch to grab the remote. Her favorite show was just about to start.

But as she tried to turn it on, nothing happened.

"Oh no, not again," she muttered, blowing away a stray strand of hair. She pouted at the dark screen, lamenting another missed episode of Snow Bear.

Then she heard it—a loud crash from below, like heavy equipment slamming against the floor. The crash was soon followed by the roaring sound of high-pressure water, a wild rush that brought her father's recent struggles with the washing machine to mind.

A shriek tore through the house, piercing and raw. It was her mother's voice, sounding so close it was as if she were right next to her.

The girl froze, clutching a pillow tightly against her chest.

"Mum?" she whispered, barely audible.

There was a struggle, thudding sounds from the basement, and then silence. Each second seemed to stretch into eternity, her body seized with fear. When the silence persisted, her mind flickered to the thought of checking on her mother. She shouldn't have gone to the basement. Had she just stayed at the door, twenty minutes more, everything might have been different. The government mages on patrol would have arrived, and at least one member of her family would have been saved.

But she made her choice. Gripping the banister, she descended, the old metal steps reverberating beneath her feet, each step louder than the last.

At the base of the stairs, water pooled across the floor. For a fleeting second, she assumed this must be the source of the noise. But then her heart stopped. She saw trails of blood spreading across the water in delicate crimson strands, winding through the reflections.

Her breath came shallow and fast as she lifted her flashlight, its beam catching the gory detail on the water's surface, leading her gaze to her mother's body, eerily still. The woman stood facing the far wall, her drenched grey vest shredded to reveal a gruesome wound arching across her back. One hand gripped a jagged shard of glass, embedded deep into her own flesh, trickling blood that was pooling in the water below.

The mother's shoulders rose, tensing as she sensed her daughter's approach. She turned, her pale face bruised and hollow, drained of life. For a fleeting, terrible moment, her eyes seemed empty. But the sight of her daughter brought her back, and she released the glass shard, letting it slip into the water with a soft splash. As the blood washed away from its surface, the shard caught the reflection of a looming figure on the ceiling, dark and watching.

The mother's voice was hoarse as she knelt, extending her arms. "Come here, sweetheart. Don't worry, I'm here with you."

Relieved, the girl stepped forward, embracing her mother gently, mindful of the wound. As she nestled close, she opened her eyes and saw it—a dark shadow, shifting and silent, melting into the wall her mother had been staring at.

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In that moment, she felt the grip of her mother's embrace, but also the chilling presence that lingered, watching, waiting.

The Prestor Group's headquarters loomed in the center of Rein City, adjacent to the Parliament building—a symbol of power nestled within the capital of the Rein Republic. Inside, employees hurried to wrap up their final tasks, eager to escape to their families or perhaps the lively nightclubs.

Jack Kamphar leaned back in his office chair, exhaustion radiating through him. He took out his phone, half-hoping to find a message from his mother.

But there were none. A small letdown.

"Still gaming on the clock, Jack?" Linzy Chase's voice broke his thoughts. She strolled over, dropping another stack of files onto his already crowded desk. She figured Jack was sneaking in some mobile Call of Duty, his go-to stress relief.

"Just wait; I'll catch up to you in rank soon enough," Jack replied, though his mind was elsewhere, grappling with the mountain of work piling up around him.

"You'll be pulling another all-nighter if you want to catch me," Linzy teased, referring to her recent victory in their clan's one-on-one match, where she'd left Jack defeated, much to the clan's amusement.

From a nearby desk, Hamilton glanced up, grinning. "You know, there's a whole world outside that screen. Take Linzy here—she balances her life and still manages to crush you."

Jack offered a weak smile, too worn down to react.

"Uh-oh, the boss," Linzy muttered, her voice dropping as she straightened up.

Timothy Chester, their manager, strolled through the office with the deliberate pace of someone who relished being feared. Employees tensed as he passed, hoping his sharp gaze would move past them. He gave Linzy an approving nod before his eyes landed on Jack, who was typing intently, looking fully immersed in his work.

"Good job, Kamphar," Timothy remarked begrudgingly. "And Hamilton—if you're done, make yourself useful and assist Jack or Linzy."

As Timothy continued his patrol, the office exhaled in collective relief.

"Would you mind giving me a hand?" Jack asked, glancing at Hamilton. "I wouldn't ask if I weren't swamped."

Hamilton shrugged. "What's in it for me?"

Linzy stepped in, flashing a grin. "Help him, and I'll owe you one."

Hamilton smirked. "You can do better."

Linzy leaned in conspiratorially. "It would make Cynthia happy."

Immediately, Hamilton's face softened as he spotted Cynthia Snow glancing their way. Embarrassed, he waved at her, which only made her blush and look away.

"Fine, I'll help." He stood, heading toward Jack's desk. Linzy grinned, having played her cards well—Hamilton never missed a chance to impress Cynthia.

Jack, grateful but weary, thanked him. The truth was, he'd been suffering from excruciating headaches that worsened every time he looked at a screen. Painkillers barely made a dent, and even mages' hospitals couldn't offer relief. It was one reason Linzy had been beating him so consistently in video games lately.

He finally excused himself, heading to the washroom for a splash of cold water to soothe the pain. As he rounded the corner, Jack froze. Timothy was there, furiously pounding on a bathroom stall door, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. Jack grimaced, the smell of smoke worsening his headache.

Timothy noticed him and straightened, a flash of irritation crossing his face. "You saw nothing," he snapped, extinguishing the cigarette in a toilet before brushing past Jack.

Jack, barely caring, moved to the sink. The headaches made him feel as though something was clawing its way through his brain. He splashed water on his face, letting the coolness soothe him, and glanced up at his reflection. There was no sign of the agony inside.

Then he noticed a thin trickle of blood from his nose. He wiped it with the back of his hand, feeling a disturbing sensation, as if something were tugging at his blood vessels.

Suddenly, a piercing scream tore through the building, reverberating from the office floor he'd just left. His heart leapt—he recognized the voice. It was Cynthia.

Another scream followed, and then two of the bathroom's fluorescent lights exploded in a shower of golden sparks. Jack flinched as an intense flash of white flooded his vision. The headache erupted into a stabbing pain that left him reeling, breathless, and barely conscious.

Just as abruptly as it had started, the pain faded, leaving him drenched in sweat, his shirt now spotted with fresh blood from his nose. As he blinked away the light, a translucent blue screen floated in his line of sight.

[ SYSTEM INSTALLING…]

"What the…" Jack murmured, wondering if he was finally losing his mind.

The washroom door burst open. A woman stumbled in, slamming it shut behind her, pressing herself against it, bracing her feet on the floor in terror.

Before he could ask why she was in the men's washroom, a heavy crash came from the other side of the door, hitting it with an unnatural force. The lower hinges snapped, and the door buckled inward.

"We're all gonna die!" she shrieked, her face pale and wild with fear. Blood trickled down her forehead, and she looked at Jack with bleary eyes, struggling to maintain her grip on the door.

Jack's mind jolted back to reality. He wanted to move, to help her, but his limbs refused to obey. The blue screen still hovered in his field of vision, following his gaze.

[SYSTEM INSTALLING… 10%...]

Three massive claws, each as thick as a human arm, tore through the door, puncturing the wood. One claw stabbed through her chest. Blood sprayed across the tiles as she choked, her legs giving out beneath her.

Jack staggered back, eyes wide with horror.

The claws retracted, sliding out of her body, and she crumpled to the floor, leaving a crimson smear across the door. Her head hit the cold tiles as her eyes fell shut, her face frozen in agony.

[SYSTEM INSTALLING… 37%...]

The blue screen remained, oblivious to the chaos around him. Jack's breath came in short, ragged gasps as he tried to regain control, but the system was only beginning its mysterious, terrible installation, and the danger was far from over.