Chapter 47 — World Panic
The world had never been quieter — and never more afraid.
1 The Global Summit
Across the world, entire cities had changed overnight.
Crime was almost gone. Violence had vanished from streets that used to echo with it.
But so had warmth. People walked faster, spoke softer, and always looked to the sky before doing wrong — as if something unseen might be watching.
Then came the message no government could ignore.
All major networks broadcast the same silent signal — a single symbol: a ring of faint light that pulsed once every three seconds.
No source. No origin. Just presence.
Within a day, every world leader convened at the Summit of Nations, an emergency council held in Geneva.
Presidents, kings, generals, scholars — the most powerful humans alive — filled a hall surrounded by flags. The air was thick with unease.
> President Lance of the Western Union: "We are witnessing something that defies science. Our satellites show electromagnetic surges where this… entity appears."
Prime Minister Daro: "Entity? Call it what it is. A being. A judgment. Whatever happened, it's beyond human control."
General Tariq: "I lost three bases in one night. No explosion. No trace. Just silence."
Silence fell again. Every leader looked to the huge screen where blurry images were frozen: a lone figure standing atop a skyscraper, coat whipping in the storm. Lightning framed him in ghostly silver.
> Arch-Bishop Marrel: "It's divine punishment. A cleansing."
Minister Kao: "If it were divine, would it erase only the corrupt? My son was taken too. He was only 17."
The room erupted — half shouting for faith, half for reason.
Some believed it was the hand of Heaven. Others called it a global threat.
Outside, protesters filled the streets waving signs:
> "THE LORD WALKS AMONG US."
"JUSTICE IS REAL."
"THE END OF TYRANTS."
2 The Erasure
In less than a week, governments issued coordinated orders: all information about the missing officials, the so-called Supreme Lords, would be deleted.
Names, records, even portraits — gone.
It was as though they had never existed.
Yet people remembered.
Families whispered their names in secret, wondering why the world suddenly seemed both freer and emptier.
Digital systems kept glitching.
Whenever anyone tried to mention H.I.M online, the post would vanish within seconds.
But rumors spread faster than fire.
Children whispered tales in playgrounds; drivers made the sign of the cross when passing cathedrals.
Some believed God had sent His own sword.
Others believed a man had become one.
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3 The Priests and the Prophets
Churches overflowed.
Temples glowed with candlelight.
People prayed night and day, asking for forgiveness or revelation.
In the city of Rome, a group of prophets stood before thousands, robes glowing in candlelight.
> Prophet Solenne: "You do not understand! The one you fear is not darkness — he is the reflection of your sins! The mirror of your deeds!"
The crowd erupted in gasps.
> Prophet Kane: "He is the hand of Justice when men no longer know justice. He is what happens when mercy sleeps."
But within hours, the prophets were gone — their voices erased, their temples sealed by military order.
Governments could not allow the panic to grow.
They feared faith more than any weapon.
Still, hope spread.
People left offerings on rooftops — candles, letters, small coins — praying that the mysterious being would spare their cities.
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4 The Skyline of Lightning
Then came the night that would be remembered forever.
Storm clouds gathered over Liberty City, forming a halo of electric light above the grand cathedral that once belonged to the Supreme Lords.
The winds howled like a thousand voices.
The rain shimmered silver under the moonlight.
And there, on the iron cross at the cathedral's peak, H.I.M stood.
The lightning bent around him like rivers of light.
His coat flared, his hair whipped by the storm, his eyes glowing faintly — not red, not blue, but a storm's pale light.
Below, thousands gathered, faces upturned, whispering prayers or curses.
Phones recorded, news drones hovered, but none could move closer.
He raised his right hand, palm open toward the sky.
Thunder rolled through the heavens like a drumbeat of war.
Then he spoke — his voice carried by the storm itself.
> H.I.M: "You rejoice in peace built on fear. You call it divine, but it was born from your own guilt."
Lightning cracked behind him, painting his silhouette against the heavens.
> H.I.M: "You hide corruption under holy names. You praise the clean streets while ignoring the broken hearts. Humanity… is corrupt because it chooses comfort over truth."
The crowd trembled. Some fell to their knees, others screamed for forgiveness, some shouted that he was a savior.
But H.I.M's gaze was distant — not at them, but beyond them.
> H.I.M: "I do not destroy the world. I show it what it has become."
For a moment, lightning froze in midair — time itself seemed to hesitate.
Then the thunder roared so loudly that windows shattered across half the city.
And just as suddenly, the storm stopped.
No rain.
No sound.
He was gone.
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5 The Morning After
When dawn rose, the world looked different.
The skies were clearer than they had been in decades. Birds flew freely above streets washed clean by the night's rain.
People emerged cautiously from their homes, half expecting ruin — but instead finding calm.
The news channels played the same message worldwide:
> "Unexplained meteorological phenomena recorded. No casualties. No further activity detected."
But everyone knew the truth.
He was still out there. Watching.
Governments strengthened alliances, building secret divisions to study the phenomena.
Religious leaders declared a new era of accountability.
And citizens began living differently — kinder, slower, almost reverently, as if afraid to provoke the heavens again.
Children drew pictures of a man in a black coat standing on clouds.
Artists painted murals of a single glowing ring hovering above the world.
H.I.M had become legend — not a name, not a man, but a presence.
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6 The Watcher on the Cross
That same night, high above the quieted city, the figure returned.
He stood once more on the cathedral's cross, though the storm had passed.
The moon was bright, the wind gentle.
His expression was unreadable — neither anger nor peace.
Just thought.
> H.I.M (quietly): "They think this is justice. They think this is divine. But justice without heart is only another kind of tyranny."
The devil's whisper brushed the edges of his mind.
> The Devil: "And yet, they obey you. Isn't that what you wanted?"
H.I.M: "Obedience born of fear is not purity. It's surrender."
The Devil: "Then what now, my vessel? Will you teach them love?"
He said nothing.
He only looked out over the sleeping city — a man, a myth, and something caught between.
For a moment, he lifted his face to the wind and closed his eyes.
He could still feel the faint echo of his old self — the one who had loved, who had laughed, who had fought for hope instead of control.
Somewhere deep inside, that small light still flickered.
And though the devil smiled in silence, H.I.M whispered something the darkness could not quite hear.
> "I will find the balance."
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7 Across the World
In deserts, forests, and mountain temples, people felt it — the shift.
Some described it as warmth after a storm. Others said the air grew lighter, as though the world itself had exhaled.
John Stellman felt it too, far away in the Himalayas.
He rose from his meditation, snow dusting his shoulders.
> John: "He's awake again… but something inside him is fighting back."
The Monk: "Then the true battle has not yet begun."
John: "No. But when it does, the world will see the difference between wrath… and redemption."
He sheathed his sword and began his descent, following the wind that seemed to whisper one name:
> H.I.M.
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8 The End of Silence
Back in Liberty City, the cathedral bells rang for the first time in years.
No one knew who rang them — the doors were still locked.
But the sound carried through every street, every home, every heart.
Some cried.
Some smiled.
Some simply looked to the sky.
And there, high above, on the cross that reached for the stars, the figure of H.I.M remained motionless, a dark silhouette against the dawn.
Lightning flickered far in the distance, silent now — not a threat, but a reminder.
The world had changed forever.
And though fear still lingered, so did something new — a strange, cautious hope.
For if one man could fall into darkness and still stand beneath the light, maybe humanity could, too.
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