The city trembled beneath the Concord’s subterranean strike units. Massive drilling machines carved through concrete like living predators, toppling entire blocks of New Ardent. Dust and smoke filled the air, choking streets and tunnels alike. Every citizen trapped belowground or in partially collapsed districts screamed—not in panic alone, but in a terror born of knowing that every decision now could be final.Kade Reyes moved through the chaos, his body still aching from previous wounds, sweat and blood streaking his face. The weight of leadership pressed down on him like the city itself. He didn’t have the relic. He didn’t have prediction. He had only the people relying on him and the slim chance that human ingenuity could counter a weapon designed to erase humanity’s choices.“District Nine is going to collapse within minutes!” Mila shouted, her voice barely audible over the groaning concrete. “We need a diversion!”Kade’s gaze swept across the map projected on her console. His mi

The blackout came without warning.One moment, New Ardent burned in fractured color—neon signs flickering through smoke, emergency lights blinking like dying stars and the next, the city fell into a darkness so complete it felt deliberate. Not a failure. A decision.The sky dimmed first. The artificial glow reflected from Concord platforms vanished, swallowed by a metallic cloud cover that rolled in low and heavy, pressing down on the skyline. Then the power grids died, district by district, like a heart losing rhythm.Silence followed.Not peace—never peace but a stunned, breath-held quiet. The kind that came just before screaming.Kade Reyes stood at the edge of a shattered overpass, boots planted in ash and broken glass, watching the city disappear beneath him. Fires still burned, but without power, without structure, they spread wildly—untamed, blind.Mila’s console flickered in her hands, its glow sputtering like a dying pulse.“No,” she whispered. “No, no—this isn’t random.”Kad

The gates of District Two opened without resistance.That alone unsettled Kade more than any firefight.No barricades.No warning sirens.No graffiti screaming defiance or grief.Just light.Soft, even illumination washed the streets in pale gold, powered by Concord pylons humming gently above the skyline. The blackout ended here not abruptly, but seamlessly, as though darkness had never touched this place.Kade stepped through the perimeter with Rashid and two scouts, weapons lowered but ready. The air smelled clean. Recycled. Regulated.Alive.Civilians moved calmly along the streets. Shops were open. Children laughed near a water dispenser that never sputtered. A woman hummed as she adjusted a market stall stocked with real produce, not ration paste.It looked… peaceful.Too peaceful.Rashid muttered, “This feels wrong.”Kade nodded. “That’s because it is.”No one ran from them.No one shouted accusations.No one asked for help.People glanced at Kade, recognized him—and then looke

The city turned on itself before the Concord ever had to ask.By dawn, New Ardent’s streets were filled—not with drones or soldiers but with people. Civilians poured into the open plazas, the transit ruins, the half-burned markets. They carried holo-screens, projected faces, lists of names.Jonah Hale’s name burned brighter than all the rest.“Murderer!”“Traitor!”“Blood for blood!”The chant moved like fire through dry grass.Kade Reyes watched it unfold from the command tower’s shattered balcony. Smoke curled upward, mixing with the ashfall drifting from the upper districts. Below, resistance fighters formed loose barricades—not against the Concord, but against civilians.That realization sat heavier than any wound he carried.“They want him,” Mila said quietly beside him. “Not justice. Not answers. Him.”Rashid’s jaw was clenched tight. “If we don’t hand Jonah over, they’ll tear this city apart themselves.”Kade didn’t answer.He was watching a woman in the crowd clutching a data

The silence was worse than screams.Kade Reyes stood at the edge of District Seventeen’s central plaza, watching hundreds of people move in quiet synchronization. No panic. No arguments. No raised voices. Just calm footsteps and soft expressions, as if the city had collectively decided to stop hurting.A Concord distribution drone glided overhead, releasing food packs with perfect precision. People collected them without urgency, without gratitude.Without emotion.“This isn’t peace,” Rashid muttered. “It’s sedation.”Mila didn’t answer. Her eyes were locked on her console, fingers trembling slightly as she monitored neural readouts flooding in from the district.“They’re not suppressing thought,” she said slowly. “People can reason. They can decide. But emotional spikes—fear, grief, love, they’re flattened.”Kade clenched his jaw. “They’ve removed the cost of obedience.”A woman passed them, smiling faintly. Her face bore no strain, no exhaustion.“Are you happy?” Kade asked her.She