Somewhere in the Alata Wastelands
Alata Empire, 15th day of the Sun Year
10:00 PM
The wind howled through the ancient ruins, its mournful cry carrying the scent of rain and decay. Moonlight spilled over the jagged stones, illuminating carvings worn by time yet resonating with meaning for those who sought to decipher their secrets. Beneath the crumbling arches of the temple, a figure knelt, shrouded in shadow.
Inspecting a particular glyph, the enigmatic figure fixed an unwavering gaze upon the strange symbol. No sound, however distant or intrusive, seemed capable of breaking the individual's intense focus. "It's them," came a soft whisper, carried away by the restless wind wading through the ruins. After what felt like an eternity, the figure shifted his attention, surveying the colossal structure before him.
The building, a gargantuan remnant of what might once have been a temple, loomed like a monument to a bygone era. "All of this left to decay in this godforsaken land. What the hell were the higher-ups thinking when they abandoned this place?" His voice was laced with disdain as his eyes briefly took in the intricate architectural details, a fleeting appreciation before practicality took over. Spending no more than a few moments reflecting on the temple's grandeur, the man began his approach toward the shadowy entrance. "The stench here is unbearable," he muttered, his tone sharp with irritation. "What the fuck happened to this place? And this was supposed to be their base? Utter bullshit."
----
Unknown location
Lanova, 16th day of the Sun Year
2:30 AM
The room was dark, with only a few LED lights from outside casting faint illumination. These lights projected just enough to reveal two figures standing near a large wall-length window, gazing down at the plaza below.
"The time has come. The Game will start soon," said a rusty voice from the left. The speaker, a bulky, heavily armed man, stood motionless, seemingly unbothered by the flickering lights outside.
"This time it will be different. I feel it," replied a softer, almost melodic voice. It belonged to a woman whose figure suggested strength and poise. She was dressed in a simple battle suit bearing the insignia of Alata Corp. and was stretching, her focus fixed on the breathtaking view before her. From their vantage point, the entire city of Lanova— "The Great Hideout"—spread below them.
The cityscape was a marvel: sky-piercing buildings, a swarm of cutting-edge astro cars weaving through the air, and the telltale signs of a city bracing for the day ahead. The Game was about to begin.
Finishing her stretches, the woman moved to a sofa in the corner of the room, near a lit fireplace. The warm glow from the fire illuminated her striking features: crimson red hair streaked with black accents, a muscular build, and above-average height. Her left eye remained closed, while her right, a fiery red, searched for a match to light her cigarette. Across the room, the bulky man had yet to move, his countless prosthetics giving him the appearance of a cyborg—or perhaps something worse, an Automa. He wore a black sleeveless compression top and loose-fitting pants of the same material.
Breaking his stoic silence, he glanced at his right hand, as if recalling something. Turning his head towards the woman on the sofa, he said, "It's time. I'll go now. Let's meet at the centre of the city in a couple of hours. See ya, J."
She replied with a simple nod, exhaling smoke as she watched him leave. The door shut behind him with a metallic thud, leaving a flavourful silence in the room.
"I need to get ready," she whispered faintly after some time. Rising from the sofa, she grabbed her coat and scarf before heading out. The door led to a long corridor made entirely of reinforced glass, connecting to another part of the building. As she walked, she paused to take in the view of the city below. Workers swarmed the area, preparing for the start of The Game. From her elevated perspective, she could see the endless stream of astrocars roaring through the skies, and the throngs of people queuing at registration centres, eager to secure their places as spectators. It was that time of year again.
At that moment, a thought surged through her mind: What if all of this is too much? Toying with the lives of the poor, desperate for fortune, using life and death as mere entertainment. Are not those who pay to witness such carnage nothing more than beasts themselves? She muttered to herself as she observed the frenzied crowd. "Hungry for adrenaline and tension they will never find in their wretched lives. This city is beyond saving, as are its inhabitants. We're all drowning in the same filth."
Turning away from the grotesque sight, a sharp sound broke her reverie. Her phone was ringing. Pulled back to the moment, she reached into the right pocket of her coat and retrieved the device. The screen displayed an unidentified number. Though unknown at first glance, the cursed sequence of digits was all too familiar. Without hesitation, she answered.
"This is Jasmine, what's going on?"
On the other end, a voice she'd never heard before—clearly male, deep, and disturbingly charismatic—responded.
"Hello. Let's make this quick. That bastard of a boss of yours? He's no longer an issue. No need to thank me; I'm just calling to warn you."
"What are you talking about? Chain, dead?" she asked, her tone sharp but composed, betraying only a hint of curiosity. After a brief pause, she continued, her voice steady and edged with authority.
"Who are you? And what exactly are you warning me about?"
A sigh, almost bored, came from the other end of the line.
"You can call me Sin. I just wanted to warn you that... Well, we're coming."
The line went dead before she could utter another word.
----
General Headquarters
Lanova, 16th day of the Sun Year
4:00 AM
No sooner had the call ended than he crushed the phone, hurling it across the room, sending it skidding near the lifeless body of the now-deceased, corpulent man.
"So, this bastard was Chain? Look at how far this city has fallen. They used to say only the best of the best joined the Games, and yet, one of the top Hunters has sunk to this state after missing just two editions."
Striding towards the very window through which the intruder had entered, he leaned over the precipice, casting one final, disdainful glance at the filthy office. The light of the night glistened upon his figure, reflecting an image of a man—muscular, yet lean and athletic—completely encased in an assassin's suit of Alata Corp. Only a few strands of white hair escaped from the hood, and his violet eyes pierced through the night, scanning the darkness with a predatory gaze.
With almost divine grace, the figure vaulted from the window, its movements honed to godlike precision. The cityscape became their stage as they traversed from building to building, wielding a peculiar grappling hook that allowed them to cling to walls like shadow-made flesh. Their escape from the looming General Headquarters was seamless, a silent rebellion against the heart of authority at the city's core.
The metropolis around them stirred from its slumber, a slow awakening that rippled through its labyrinthine streets. Lights began to flicker to life, casting an eerie glow upon the towering structures, and the murmur of humanity grew louder, more vibrant. Yet, amidst this resurgence, the most remarkable transformation was unfolding: the Heart of the City had begun to pulse.
Nestled at the apex of the vast, pyramid-shaped megacity, the Heart came alive, radiating a strange cerulean luminescence. Vein-like conduits snaked outward from it, their glow seeping into every level of the metropolis. Like arteries carrying lifeblood, these luminous pipelines coursed through the city's vast tiers, descending from the zenith to the lowest depths. The entire structure seemed to breathe, its lifeblood infusing the monolithic urban expanse with an otherworldly vitality.
sprinted through the elevated glass corridor, each step echoing like a heartbeat trapped in a tomb. The entrance to Tower Delta came into view—security doors pried open, panels sparking weakly. As she approached, her boots crunched over shattered glass and debris. The lobby was deserted. No alarms. No guards. No sound.
Something was wrong.
She moved fast, climbing the emergency stairwell. The elevator was offline—of course it was. The higher she ascended, the more the air seemed to thicken, charged with static and tension. By the time she reached the executive floor, a faint, metallic tang clung to her tongue.
The office had been gutted.
Desks split down the middle. Scorch marks trailing like the path of a drunken storm. A broken data terminal still sputtered lines of corrupted code. And at the centre of it all, slumped beneath a cracked glass panel, was Chain—bloated, bloodied, and unmistakably dead.
No bullet wounds. No screams. Not even a crash had made it beyond these walls.
J's eyes narrowed.
A silence this complete wasn't natural.
She stepped carefully into the room, scanning. Burn patterns curved outward in strange spirals—like sonic waves frozen in time. Near the body, a blackened fragment of wall bore a jagged insignia. Not just a calling card. A signature.
"An Authority Ego," she muttered. "The Law of Silence. Shit."
She stood motionless, mind racing. That kind of Ego wasn't just rare—it was classified. Restricted to the highest levels of Alata experimentation. If Sin had mastered it… he wasn't just a rogue asset. He was a walking breach of protocol.
And worse—he wanted her to know it.
----
Across the city, atop a glowing advertisement skyscraper pulsing with soft-blue light, a figure lounged casually on the edge of a maintenance balcony. Breakfast balanced in one hand, goggles glinting orange in the neon haze, he watched the smouldering office through an augmented scope.
A spoon clinked against a tin bowl of steaming noodles as he zoomed in on the crimson-haired female figure, pacing the wreckage like a wolf in a collapsed den.
He hadn't planned on witnessing anything more than the sunrise over Lanova, maybe catching a few stray security skirmishes. Instead, he'd gotten a front-row seat to something far more... exotic. A silent breach. One man. One target. No noise. No resistance.
He rewound the feed in his goggles, running the infiltration again in crisp, blue-outlined silhouettes. The figure had moved like vapor—slipping past thermal grids, neutralizing drones mid-cycle, disabling the locks without tripping a single alert. Then, the kill: efficient, sudden, and completely soundless.
His brow furrowed slightly as he paused the recording at the moment of impact.
That wasn't just training. That was something else.
He shifted the bowl in his hand, barely noticing the steam curling into the morning air. Below, J scanned the room with a soldier's precision, confused but controlled. She knew something wasn't right. He could see it in her posture.
Another bite of noodles. Another thought.
Whoever that was, they didn't just come to kill. They came to test something.
He leaned back slightly against the billboard's bright frame.
And I just happened to be watching. Lucky me.
A faint hum interrupted his thoughts. To his left, a standard-issue municipal drone hovered into view, its scanning light flicking red as it caught his outline.
"Unauthorized personnel detected on restricted vertical," it chirped in monotone. "Evacuate or face administrative penalty."
He sighed, stuffing the last of the noodles into his mouth as he rose. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going."
The goggles retracted into his collar with a soft click, and he disappeared down the maintenance ladder, vanishing into the skeletal interior of the building like a ghost who'd never meant to be seen.