Chapter 17: Conspiracy Controversy
Theodore Knight was a man defined by dualities. To most, he was just "Theo," a middle-aged, unassuming man with messy brown hair, sharp emerald eyes, and an ever-present air of weariness. His neighbors knew him as an impressionable yet reliable figure as a landlord or a friend, always lending a hand where needed. He worked for a dubious construction company, though few knew it was a front owned and operated by the local Superhero Association branch.
But Theo had another name, another identity: Sylver, one of the defenders of Obelisk City-state. When he donned his knight-inspired technological armor, he became the Steel Knight—a tinker and a fighter, wielding advanced miniaturized weaponry and tactical ingenuity. Sylver’s class was aptly named [Steel Knight], blending engineering mastery with combat prowess. While his skills leaned more toward crafting and strategy, his resolve on the battlefield had earned him the respect of even the mightiest heroes in the city.
Currently, Sylver was supposed to be off-duty. In truth, he hadn’t had a proper rest in days, possibly weeks. His mind refused to shut down, haunted by an ever-growing list of responsibilities. Yet today, his weariness wasn’t about the city or his duties. It was something far more personal.
His son was missing.
Even the hidden tracking device Theodore had discreetly installed on the boy’s phone—a small betrayal he justified as necessary to keep him safe—had gone dark. It was a silence that spoke volumes, chilling him to his core.
Sylver moved through the city’s quiet streets, his armor gleaming faintly under the streetlights. His visor scanned every shadow, every corner, cycling through thermal imaging, sound amplification, and energy signatures. Yet the emptiness remained.
Theories churned through his mind. Had his son run away? Was he in danger? Theodore had tried to protect him from the darker truths of the city—the underbelly where villains, gangs, and corrupt corporations lurked. But as both father and hero, he knew he couldn’t shield the boy forever.
The skyline was a helter-skelter harmony of innovation. Buildings of varying heights and shapes jutted upward, connected by an intricate web of sky bridges and suspended maglev rails. Neon lights bathed the city in a kaleidoscope of colors, advertising everything from sleek hover cars to the latest superhero merchandise. Giant digital screens broadcast news, entertainment, and the ever-present exploits of the city’s defenders.
At street level, the city pulsed with life and tension.
Bustling marketplaces sprawled through designated districts, where food stalls mingled with vendors hawking gadgets and relics scavenged from past battles. People of all walks of life filled the streets, from corporate elites in their tailored exosuits to street performers using rudimentary tech to dazzle crowds with holographic displays.
Yet beneath the surface glamour, there was a stark divide. The upper levels, gleaming with opulence, were home to the city’s wealthiest and most influential citizens. In stark contrast, the lower sectors—where sunlight barely reached—were shadowed by towering skyscrapers and riddled with crumbling infrastructure. These depths, often referred to as the "Underbelly," housed the city’s marginalized, its forgotten, and its criminals.
The air above Obelisk buzzed with the hum of aerial traffic. Drones zipped between buildings, and hero patrols streaked across the sky, leaving glowing trails as they surveyed the city. Far below, hidden railways and underground bunkers hinted at the city-state’s preparedness for the threats that seemed to lurk at every turn.
Despite its vibrant exterior, Obelisk City-state was a fortress. Its defenses were as layered as its society—automated turrets perched atop high-rises, energy barriers guarding critical infrastructure, and heroes ever-vigilant against invasions from within or beyond. The city had survived dungeon incursions, rogue AI outbreaks, and power struggles between heroes and villains.
But its greatest strength—and its greatest flaw—was always its people.
The same thing was true for heroes and villains
Theo perched on a spire high above the city over a church, while he studied the data that flashed by his interface. The Obelisk cast its imposing shadow across the urban expanse as the midday sun blazed in the sky. He drew a long sip from the straw extending into his helmet, the nutrient packet within his power armor offering little comfort against the gnawing unease in his chest. His emerald eyes scanned the streets below, searching for any clue, any sign of his missing son.
There were two possibilities, both equally troubling. Either his son had been kidnapped—a possibility that filled Theo with both rage and a chilling resolve—or he had been caught in a [Dungeon Call]. The latter was a phenomenon that no amount of planning or vigilance could prevent, a spontaneous dimensional event that ensnared people without warning and dropped them into perilous, otherworldly dungeons. It was a cruel twist of fate Theo had seen claim even the most prepared individuals.
It was something that couldn’t be foreseen or outran.
Theo clung to a faint thread of solace. He had conditioned his son, prepared him for danger, practically trained him to navigate a world that was anything but safe. Theo’s mind drifted to the years after his wife’s death, a time when grief had consumed him and he’d poured all his pain into work and an unyielding regimen for his boy.
In his mourning, Theo had become strict, almost unrelenting. He'd convinced himself that the only way to protect his son was to make him stronger, to forge him into someone who could survive the harsh realities of their world… despite the lack of the system’s grace.
At the time, it felt like the right thing to do. Now, the memory of that period weighed heavy on him, a reminder of the selfishness that grief could foster.
It was only recently, after years of stubborn denial, that Theo had sobered up and begun to mend the bridges he had nearly burned. He had seen how his own behavior had caused pain to those around him, especially his son. He vowed to do better, to be better. But guilt lingered, and now, as he scanned the horizon, he wondered if he had done enough.
Perched on the spire, Theo’s instincts flared. Someone had entered his blind spot. Without turning, he mentally activated the rear optics of his armor, the embedded sensors projecting a feed onto his visor. The figure behind him was familiar—Azura.
She stood confidently, her blue spandex suit catching the light of the sun. The outfit, exposing her elbows, cleavage, and portions of her legs, wasn’t for show. It was functional, a necessity for her electrokinesis. Every inch of exposed skin allowed her to discharge excess energy without compromising her abilities. Her long, braided twin tails shimmered like liquid silver, a striking contrast to her youthful, determined face.
Azura was a speedster, a rookie hero, and one of the Obelisk Knights’ rising stars. She wasn’t just a colleague but also Theo’s former pupil, someone he had mentored as part of the Association’s required mentorship system. More importantly, she had been trained by the legendary Windbreaker, an icon among speedsters. Theo had taken her under his wing reluctantly at first, but over time, he had grown to respect her dedication and fiery resolve.
Azura leaned casually against the spire’s railing, her usual burst of energy tempered by the gravity of the situation.
“Senior,” she called, her voice tinged with both respect and concern. “Found any clues?”
Theo sighed, his tone clipped but not unkind. “Aren’t you here to stop me from my reckless endeavors?”
Azura grinned faintly, her silver eyes gleaming with mischief. “There will be no stopping you. After all, this is your family we’re talking about… your son.”
Her words struck a chord. Theo didn’t respond immediately, his emerald eyes returning to the streets below as he processed her presence.
Azura took a step closer. “I came to tell you something. It might be relevant.”
“Spill it,” Theo said, his voice steady but edged with urgency.
Azura folded her arms with her expression growing serious. “There’s been an anomaly reported near the city outskirts. The Association dismissed it as a fluke, but the signature? It’s consistent with the kind of distortion that happens during a [Dungeon Call].”
Theo’s hand clenched into a fist, the metallic gauntlet groaning under the pressure. His worst fears were inching closer to reality.
“You’re certain?” he asked, his voice low.
“Certain enough to follow up,” Azura replied. “And I figured you’d want to know. You can lecture me about protocol later, Senior.”
Funny…
Theo turned his helmeted gaze to her, silently grateful for the information. “I owe you one.”
Azura smirked. “Don’t mention it. Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay? I’ll cover for you as much as I can.”
Theo’s posture stiffened, his full attention locked onto Azura as she spoke. Despite the weight of his power armor, he shifted as though ready to spring into action at any moment.
His emerald eyes, hidden behind his visor, narrowed.
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“What else do you know?” he asked. “Tell me everything.”
Azura crossed her arms and exhaled, her expression growing more serious. “It’s not confirmed, but there’s been a suspicious rise in [Dungeon Calls] across the city. They’re cropping up everywhere—places they never used to before. The research teams are stumped. No one can tell if it’s some kind of natural phenomenon or if someone’s orchestrating it.”
Theo’s mind churned. A deliberate orchestration could mean a direct threat to the city-state. A natural phenomenon, on the other hand, would require a different approach—one that could stretch the resources of the Obelisk Knights thin.
Azura continued, her tone lowering. “The Obelisk Lord himself suspects foul play. He believes it’s an attack by an outside party, though he hasn’t ruled out internal interference. He’s advised everyone to proceed with caution.”
Theo’s fists clenched tightly, the servos in his gauntlets whirring faintly. “Why wasn’t I informed earlier?”
Azura gave him a pointed look. “You’re not exactly following protocol right now, Senior. You’ve been off the radar for days chasing your son. Besides, that’s not all.”
Theo’s jaw tightened. “Go on.”
Azura’s voice grew quieter, her usual energy replaced by a rare gravity. “Alongside the rise in [Dungeon Calls], superheroes have been disappearing. Not just rookies—veterans, too. No one knows where they’ve gone or if they’re even alive.”
The implication was … they might have been caught by the [Dungeon Calls].
A heavy silence fell between them, the weight of her words sinking in. Theo processed the implications. The timing was no coincidence. The abrupt vanishings, the unexplained phenomena—it all pointed to something larger at play.
“Do we have a list of who’s gone missing?” Theo asked.
Azura shook her head. “The Association’s keeping it under wraps. But it’s bad enough that even the Lord is worried. He wouldn’t advise caution otherwise.”
Theo turned his gaze back to the city skyline, the enormity of the situation settling in his chest like a lead weight. “If this is connected to Noah… if he’s caught up in this mess—”
“Then we’ll get him back,” Azura interrupted with a firm voice. “You trained me, Senior. I’ve got your back.”
For the first time in what felt like days, Theo allowed himself a small nod of appreciation. “Let’s hope your speed is enough to keep up.”
Azura smirked faintly, though her eyes held the same determination as his. “Always.”
Before Theo and Azura could act on the lead they had, a sudden commotion erupted.
The air buzzed with tension as the once vibrant boulevards dimmed, their usual bustling atmosphere disrupted. The giant electronic billboards that lined the streets flickered erratically, their normal advertisements replaced by static. People on the streets halted in confusion, their murmurs rising to a low roar.
Suddenly, the screens synchronized, displaying the image of a disheveled young man wearing a lab coat. His wild red eyes glinted with manic energy as he leaned toward the camera, his unkempt hair giving him a distinctly disturbing appearance. He was laughing—sharp, erratic bursts that sent chills down the spines of those watching.
“Hello~! Obelisk City!” the man’s voice rang out, amplified through the public announcement systems across the city. His tone was unsettlingly playful as if this were all a game to him. “Please, call me Oz,” he said, giving a mocking little bow. “My class? Oh, I’m an [Otherworlder], and I’ve come here to expose the ugly truths you’ve been lied to about your whole lives!”
Theo who remained perched on his high vantage point immediately tensed. His grip on the ledge tightened, the weight of his power armor creaking softly against the steel. Beside him, Azura stood frozen, her silver braid catching the flickering light from the screen.
“I’d like to do my broadcasts all over the world,” Oz continued, his grin widening into something that was almost grotesque. “But doing it one city at a time has a certain charm… Aren’t I kind?” He chuckled, spreading his arms dramatically as if expecting applause.
The streets below fell eerily silent, save for the faint hum of static from the screens. Oz leaned in closer, his red eyes almost glowing against the pale complexion of his face. “So,” he asked with a theatrical lilt, “are you guys ready to learn the truth?”
Theo’s instincts screamed at him. This wasn’t just a grandstanding villain—it felt like something more. Something calculated. He muttered under his breath, voice low and steady. “Azura, this isn’t just a distraction. This is a message.”
Azura nodded, her jaw tight. “And we’re the audience.”
Oz leaned closer to the camera with a sly smirk playing on his lips as though he relished the unease he’d created. His voice took on a sing-song quality as if he were narrating a bedtime story laced with venom. “Hmmm… let’s take it easy, shall we? For today, I’ll reveal to you three ultimate truths.”
He raised a finger, pausing for dramatic effect. “First, let me tell you about truth number one... the timeline is broken. Tada-da!” He twirled in place, his lab coat flaring out as he spread his arms wide. “Now, you might argue, ‘Oh, timelines don’t exactly matter in our finite little lives!’ But you’d be wrong!” His tone sharpened suddenly, a flash of anger breaking through his playful facade. “What happens to things that are broken, hmm? They degrade. They unravel. And one day, they’re so far gone, there’s no fixing them. At. All.”
Theo frowned, his emerald eyes narrowing behind the optics of his helmet. The weight of Oz’s words hit harder than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t just the strange claims—there was an unsettling conviction behind them, as though Oz truly believed what he was saying. Theo didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Basically,” Oz continued, his grin returning with a twisted flourish, “this is a prophecy! A little bedtime story, if you will, about the end of the world.” He broke into laughter again, the sound reverberating through the still streets.
Beside Theo, Azura scowled. “What the hell is this guy even saying?” she muttered under her breath. She touched her earpiece, her fingers moving in quick, irritated taps. “Console, do you copy? This is Azura. I’m with Sylver. Do you have any instructions for us?”
Theo didn’t bother trying. He had already disconnected from the main line after his reprimand for going solo. His stubbornness had its costs, but he wasn’t about to let bureaucratic protocol stand in his way—not when his son was missing.
Instead, he asked quietly, “Any orders for us?”
Azura shook her head, her expression darkening. “No. They’re unresponsive.”
Theo’s jaw clenched. This wasn’t just some harmless stunt; it felt deliberate, and calculated. And without the console’s guidance, they were left to act on their own. “Then we’re on our own,” he said, his voice steady but laced with resolve.
Azura nodded, her eyes scanning the city below. “Seems that way. What’s the plan, Senior?”
Theo turned his gaze back to the flickering screen, where Oz’s grin seemed to stretch wider with each passing second. “We start by figuring out what this lunatic wants. And if he’s tied to the [Dungeon Calls]… we’ll find out soon enough.” He began tracing the signal with what he had in hand… his interface flickered as he mentally connected to the grid.
Oz’s grin only grew more unsettling as he raised another finger, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. “Now, on to truth number two... Aliens are real!” He let the words hang in the air, watching the city’s reaction with the glee of a showman on stage.
Theo’s eyes narrowed further, his grip tightening on the railing of the spire. Azura let out a scoff, her fingers twitching as if she were ready to spring into action. “Oh, great,” she muttered. “Now he’s going full conspiracy theorist.”
Oz continued, seemingly unfazed by the doubt his words would inevitably stir. “The creatures you perceive as ‘monsters,’” he explained, his voice taking on a teacherly tone, “are all beings capable of thought. Each one hails from different civilizations. Civilizations, mind you, with histories, cultures, and ambitions.”
Theo’s heart sank. The implications of what Oz was saying… if even a fraction of it were true, it could rewrite everything he thought he understood about dungeons.
“The dungeons you so fear?” Oz gestured dramatically. “Merely fragments of what those civilizations once were. And because they’re fragments—infected by the rot of the end of the world—they’ve lost their minds. They act irrationally, like wild animals. But! And this is the juicy part…” He leaned closer to the camera, red eyes gleaming. “If they retained their sentience, they’d try their hardest to invade this world, live in hiding here, or even beg us for mercy. Isn’t that tragic?”
Azura’s jaw tightened, her fingers still on her earpiece as if willing it to connect to someone—anyone—who could make sense of this insanity. But the console remained silent.
“And now,” Oz went on, his voice dropping conspiratorially, “here’s the kicker. There are intact worlds out there! Whole, unbroken, thriving worlds like ours. And do you know what the dungeons really are? Pathways. Gateways to those worlds.”
Theo felt a cold weight settle in his chest. Gateways. The word lingered in his mind like an ominous echo.
“Now, here’s the question of the hour!” Oz clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and almost mocking. “Your beloved government… your oh-so-righteous superheroes… they’ve been waging war against these worlds! Did you know that? Hmm?” He tilted his head, his smile sharp enough to cut glass. “How sad, isn’t it? All those lives, all that destruction. And you? You’re none the wiser. What else could they be hiding from you?”
The city below was eerily quiet as if holding its breath. Theo’s thoughts raced, his mind torn between disbelief and a gnawing suspicion that the madman on the screen might not be entirely wrong.
Azura finally broke the silence, her voice a low growl. “What the hell is this guy playing at? He’s just stirring up chaos.”
Theo didn’t respond immediately, his emerald eyes fixed on the screen. “Chaos or not,” he said finally, his voice grim, “we need to find out if there’s any truth in what he’s saying. Because if there is... this changes everything.”
But first, he needed to find his son.
“Ha ha ha ha ha~!”
The sudden shift in Oz’s tone caught Theo’s attention, the villain’s maniacal laughter grating on his nerves. “Ah~! I should probably take responsibility for it,” Oz began, his voice lilting with mock sincerity. “Yes, that’s right. I was the one responsible for the several [Dungeon Calls] that spontaneously burst through the city! Of course, if you get what I mean?”
Oz made a flirtatious wink at the camera.
Theo’s jaw tightened, the confirmation sending a jolt through him. Beside him, Azura clenched her fists, her expression darkening.
“So, if you have missing family members,” Oz continued, his tone dripping with mock pity, “blame it on me! Or, maybe... maybe you could thank me!” His grin widened, red eyes gleaming with malicious delight. “How fortunate, right? This way, they wouldn’t have to suffer the end of the world anymore.”
Theo felt his breath hitch. His son—was this lunatic implying he might have been swept into one of these manufactured [Dungeon Calls]?
“And now!” Oz’s voice turned theatrical once more. “Here comes the third truth! Are you ready? I’ll share more truths with you in the future, but for now, let’s settle with just three...” He paused for dramatic effect, his grin practically splitting his face. “So, do you know what the third truth is? Don’t be shocked now…”
Azura muttered, “What is this guy playing at?” Her voice was tight, restrained.
“The third truth,” Oz declared with glee, “is that the [System]—the thing you trust, rely on, live by—it’s been a lie all along—”
Suddenly, his voice cut off, the broadcast abruptly ending as if someone had yanked the plug on his transmission. The city lights flickered back to normal, the electronic billboards returning to their scheduled advertisements. The silence that followed felt deafening.
Theo’s hands balled into fists as he stared at the now-blank screen. Some part of him—irrational, desperate—felt regret. Regret that the broadcast had been cut off. He had been so close to tracing Oz’s location, so close to unearthing the resources and tower beacon the maniac had been using. But more than regret, what filled Theo now was a seething anger, a frustration that burned hotter than any fire.
Azura’s voice broke the silence. “That… Oz... is what he’s saying true?” Her usual confidence was absent, replaced by uncertainty and unease.
Theo inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “I don’t know.” His tone was low, steady. Controlled. “Just think of it as the ramblings of a madman.”
But deep down, Theo wasn’t so sure. The pieces didn’t add up. Oz might have been unhinged, but his words carried the weight of something more than mere insanity. They carried intention. And that was what disturbed Theo the most.
Since that day, the incident known as the ‘Conspiracy Controversy’ changed the world.