Neon lights flickered inconsistently along the damp, crowded corridors of Sector C, casting long, sickly shadows across the metallic walls. Bureaucracy was an absolute disease, far worse than any cosmic virus Jhonatan had ever encountered. He had spent the last four hours sitting behind the massive obsidian desk in his new command office, listening to Arthur and Reymond drone on endlessly. They presented holographic charts detailing agricultural water routing, dark-matter energy grid distribution, and housing allocations for the eighty thousand new refugees they had rescued from the Ascendancy. Jhonatan felt his brain slowly melting out of his ears. Fighting a planet-eating cosmic leviathan was infinitely less painful than dealing with city management spreadsheets. Reymond aggressively tapped a floating blue digital screen, his cybernetic eye spinning in overdrive as he projected a fluctuating graph onto the table. "Boss, the hydroponic farms in Sector B are operating at ninety per