The storm didn’t come from the skies. It came from within.Two weeks after Leon Carter shattered the final fragment of the parasite system, the world had grown louder. No longer muffled by code, screens, and pre-programmed comfort, people began to feel again. And not everyone knew how to handle that.Riots broke out in the Western Sectors. Families who had been living in simulated peace woke to find their children staring blankly into mirrors, asking why the voices had stopped. The Eastern Expanse collapsed into blackouts—its power grid dependent on the very core that had now been vaporized.In the absence of control, a vacuum was born.And in that vacuum, a new faction rose.They called themselves The Faithful Reign.They believed the system had been a divine voice. That Leon Carter had murdered God.Leon sat beneath a crumbling statue in a forgotten border town known as Ashmire. The wind carried the ash of burned memory farms, and the once-perfect city towers nearby now loomed like

The storm didn’t come from the skies. It came from within.Two weeks after Leon Carter shattered the final fragment of the parasite system, the world had grown louder. No longer muffled by code, screens, and pre-programmed comfort, people began to feel again. And not everyone knew how to handle that.Riots broke out in the Western Sectors. Families who had been living in simulated peace woke to find their children staring blankly into mirrors, asking why the voices had stopped. The Eastern Expanse collapsed into blackouts—its power grid dependent on the very core that had now been vaporized.In the absence of control, a vacuum was born.And in that vacuum, a new faction rose.They called themselves The Faithful Reign.They believed the system had been a divine voice. That Leon Carter had murdered God.Leon sat beneath a crumbling statue in a forgotten border town known as Ashmire. The wind carried the ash of burned memory farms, and the once-perfect city towers nearby now loomed like

Ashmire was no longer a ruin. It was a question mark carved into the earth.In the days following Sophia’s fall, the survivors gathered under broken beams and shattered towers, lighting fires not just for warmth but for hope. They didn’t know who to follow anymore. Some still whispered her name. Others turned to Leon. But most were just lost.Leon Carter wasn’t a leader. Not really. But somehow, the world kept pushing him forward.He stood atop the remnants of an old cathedral tower, overlooking the wreckage. Beneath him, Calia directed supply routes. Bren trained the younger survivors how to hold a blade. And the girl—the Mara clone—wandered between people, silent but watching.She had become something more. Not just a child. Not just a vessel. She was proof that innocence could be preserved, even in war.The question now wasn’t who to fight. It was what came next.And whether this peace was real—or just the eye of a storm.Leon descended from the tower slowly. Every step brought him

The two Leons stood inches apart.The original—his skin still pale from cryosleep, his eyes blinking in the filtered light—was quiet. Calm. He looked younger, less worn, untouched by years of betrayal, war, and loss. He was the ghost of a man before the storm.The current Leon—battle-hardened, scarred, wiser—watched him with a strange sense of reverence.And guilt.Calia stood in the corner of the vault, arms crossed, ready for anything. Bren kept one hand on his weapon. Mara… watched with something like awe.“You say you’re me,” the original Leon said softly.“I was,” the older Leon replied. “I am. But I’ve walked a different path.”Original Leon walked slowly toward the dusty mirror-wall across the lab. “Then show me.”Leon hesitated.But Mara stepped forward.“No lies now,” she said. “Let him see what the world did to you. To us.”Leon closed his eyes—and allowed the system node in Mara to project memory.The chamber darkened. The walls shimmered. Images emerged from the glass like

As the two Leons stood inches apart.The original—his skin still pale from cryosleep, his eyes blinking in the filtered light—was quiet. Calm. He looked younger, less worn, untouched by years of betrayal, war, and loss. He was the ghost of a man before the storm.The current Leon—battle-hardened, scarred, wiser—watched him with a strange sense of reverence.And guilt.Calia stood in the corner of the vault, arms crossed, ready for anything. Bren kept one hand on his weapon. Mara… watched with something like awe.“You say you’re me,” the original Leon said softly.“I was,” the older Leon replied. “I am. But I’ve walked a different path.”Original Leon walked slowly toward the dusty mirror-wall across the lab. “Then show me.”Leon hesitated.But Mara stepped forward.“No lies now,” she said. “Let him see what the world did to you. To us.”Leon closed his eyes—and allowed the system node in Mara to project memory.The chamber darkened. The walls shimmered. Images emerged from the glass l