No one knew for sure who first spread it.
It wasn't a news channel. Not a whistleblower. Just an anonymous account, with a random name and no profile picture—that suddenly uploaded a two-minute video to all platforms simultaneously.
The title was simple: "The Truth."
The video went viral instantly.
Because from the first second, there was no opening. No explanation. Just the view of a dark room with a chandelier flickering like a nervous witness.
Beneath it, a bare-chested man sat in a white leather chair, his body covered in wounds, his hands and feet bound with metal cables.
The man was Daniel Jan.
Billionaire, a dominant figure in the Antares economic sector, owner of seven global corporations, and a man believed to be untouchable by anyone.
But that night, in that video, he looked helpless.
His face was bruised. His lips were split. His left eye was nearly sealed shut by dried blood. He squirmed, trying to speak, but only a weak groan escaped—the sound of someone who knew his end was seconds away.
Then, three figures emerged from the darkness.
They wore no masks. Their bodies looked like ordinary humans—except for their eyes.
Red. Pure. Burning like embers of hell, ignited to scorch the world.
They surrounded Daniel… then began to tear him apart.
Not with weapons.
With bare hands and teeth.
The first sound was the snap of a rib being forcibly broken—CRACKK!—followed by Daniel's scream, which was instantly silenced by a bite to his neck.
Blood sprayed onto the camera, warm, thick.
One of them bit into his stomach until his intestines spilled out. Another tore at his cheek like the peel of a rotten orange. Flesh was ripped, muscles sliced, sharp nails tore through bone like brittle paper.
His screams turned into choked sounds, then just a groan... then silence.
There was no background music. No visual effects. Only the feral gasps of feasting, hungry creatures.
The perpetrators' faces were blurred—not by censorship, but as if deliberately shrouded in a digital fog. Every pixel of their faces was distorted by an algorithm not of ordinary human design. But any trace of humanity behind that savagery was gone.
Then, the camera shifted.
A fourth figure appeared.
Slow steps. Black leather shoes stepping in pools of blood. A long black coat fell to his ankles. His silver-blond hair was wet with the red liquid dripping from its tips. He walked slowly toward the camera, then stopped.
He smiled.
Not a human smile.
It was too wide. Too calm. Too satisfied.
"You raise cattle and chickens for slaughter... Now, we are the ones who raise you."
His voice was deep. Resonant.
Not just in the room, but as if it pierced through the screen—penetrating the heart of anyone watching.
He raised a finger, licking the blood from it like a high-quality wine, then stared straight into the camera, his eyes black with a small red dot pulsing slowly in the center.
"We have not come to annihilate. We have come to bring balance.
You will feel what you have done to other creatures.
You are not the masters.
You are livestock."
He chuckled softly.
A quiet laugh… but it made the very air in the room seem to stop vibrating.
Then the video ended.
No outro. No logo.
Just a black screen.
And behind it, the last sound from Daniel Jan—a soft groan...
...before an eternal silence.