2026-05-28 22:47:33Hanan walked toward the elevator. Not a single employee even noticed him. Hanan used what was left of Bastian’s purple energy to mess with their vision. To those employees, Hanan was just thin air.
As the elevator doors shut, Hanan closed his eyes.
Something new was rumbling in his head. Memories. Bastian’s spiritual core that he’d crushed and absorbed actually carried bits of memory. Shards of images and sounds flashed through Hanan’s mind like a movie playing at some insane speed.
Hanan saw a POV from Bastian’s eyes, kneeling in a dark room. In front of him stood three glowing human silhouettes. They didn't have faces. They were just energy entities giving off some seriously heavy pressure.
One of those silhouettes spoke up, "Your job is just to round up the human resources in this sector. Don't ever step out of your territory."
That memory faded and got replaced by a flash of a weird symbol. An image of a third eye split into three parts.
Hanan opened his eyes when the elevator hit the ground floor.
"So he was just a lackey," Hanan muttered. "A CEO who thought he was a god turned out to be just a watchdog for even bigger gods."
An ancient voice inside Hanan’s chest let out a heavy laugh. "I told you so. This food chain is way higher than you can even imagine. You just ate a tiny fish in shallow water."
Hanan stepped out of that corporate tower. The Jakarta afternoon air was burning hot, but Hanan wasn't sweating one bit.
New energy pulsed through his veins. Now Hanan could hear millions of overlapping voices. It was the thoughts of every single person within a five-kilometer radius. Voices fearing bank bills, voices hating on coworkers, hidden lustful thoughts, even desperate prayers.
It was all flooding Hanan’s brain. The noise was so loud it could drive a normal person insane in seconds.
But Hanan just sighed. He focused his will and built an invisible wall inside his mind. Instantly, all those voices vanished. He filtered that ocean of info and left nothing but total silence.
"Mind manipulation powers are seriously annoying," Hanan said while looking at his palm. "Bastian used this to crush the weak. I’m gonna use it to hunt down the strong ones."
Hanan strolled down the sidewalk. He had no plan to go back to his old apartment. That place was a dead past. Right now, he needed a high spot to map out the whole energy grid in the city.
He stepped into a narrow alley between two old buildings. At the end of that quiet alley, Hanan bent his knees a bit and then just launched himself.
His body shot up, defying gravity. The air gave a soft pop under his feet as he vaulted himself fifty meters high in a single jump. He landed smoothly on the concrete roof without even making a sound.
Hanan walked to the edge of the roof. The wind whipped hard against his face. He closed his eyes and let loose all that purple energy he’d just grabbed.
Waves of a metaphysical radar spread out from Hanan, expanding to cover every corner of Jakarta. He ignored the golden threads of regular people. He was looking for distortions. He was hunting for other cracks that gave off different colors.
A minute passed. Suddenly, a spark of energy popped up on his radar.
It was way out north, right by the harbor docks. That energy was blood-red. Totally wild and hot. Much bigger and more brutal than what Bastian had.
Hanan’s eyes snapped open. The gold glow in his irises was now mixed with a savage purple flash.
"Target number two," Hanan whispered.
But before Hanan could even take a step, the air behind him made a weird whistling sound. The temperature plummeted. The puddles of rain on the roof froze into ice in a heartbeat.
Hanan didn't turn around. He already knew someone was standing ten meters behind him.
"That was fast," Hanan said, totally chill.
"You're messing with our property," a woman’s voice came from behind. Her voice was gorgeous but cold as the North Pole. "Bastian was definitely a weak idiot. But he was a useful pawn for raising funds for our operations."
Hanan slowly turned around.
There stood a woman in an elegant black dress. Her skin was pale as marble. Her long hair flowed in the wind. The woman didn't have pupils. Her entire eyes were a glowing silver.
"I was sent to clean up the mess," the woman continued as she stepped forward. "My name's Elara. And you, New Anomaly, have broken our law of balance."
Hanan checked her out from head to toe. He could see tiny ice crystals forming in the air every time Elara took a breath.
"Laws?" Hanan gave a faint smirk. "Ever since the barrier in my chest shattered, the only absolute thing I recognize is my own damn will."
Elara raised her right hand. The air around Hanan suddenly froze solid, trapping Hanan’s feet in blocks of absolute ice that were basically near absolute zero.
"Your will dies right here," Elara hissed sharply.
Hanan looked down at his ice-trapped feet. He didn't look panicked at all. The hunger in his chest was actually thrashing around in pure excitement. This new prey had just delivered herself on a silver platter.
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31. Static Syndrome
The smell of burnt ozone clung to Hanan’s hair, and his skin felt like it was being sandpapered by microscopic bits of data. He sat on the floor of an abandoned electronics shop, his back against a shelf full of empty hardware boxes. Outside, the streets of Jakarta were shivering. Not vibrating, not trembling—shivering, as if reality itself was cold and trying to huddle up against the inevitable arrival of the Void.Hanan gripped his left wrist. He couldn't feel his pulse. Instead, he could feel a rhythmic, mechanical hum pulsing against his bones—a steady, 60-cycle vibration. The Static Syndrome."Stop it," Hanan hissed at his own limb. He wasn't talking to his skin, but to the reality-construct he had foolishly folded into his own nervous system to save the data drive."You look like shit, boss."Hanan looked up. His 'pet' Glitch—a lingering anomaly of code he had partially shackled to his existence—was hovering in the corner of the room. It had fashioned a semi-humanoid shape,
30 : : A Whisper from the Void
The pavement under Hanan’s boots felt less like solid ground and more like a suggestion he had to repeatedly convince into existence. Each step he took required a subconscious calculation a subtle manipulation of local coordinates just to ensure the street didn't dematerialize under his weight.Beside him, his thrall—the glitched, shadowed humanoid was flickering with frantic urgency. It twitched, its silhouette tearing at the edges like burnt parchment, sensing the proximity of something fundamentally "other."The Whisper didn't start as a sound. It started as a pressure in Hanan’s teeth, a subsonic frequency that turned his spit into dry metal. Then came the voices. Thousands of them, overlapping like radio stations fighting for a signal, yet all carrying the same tonal despair."The Scaffold is fraying, Architect," the whisper leaked from the very air, vibrating against the storefronts. "The mortar is turning to sand."Hanan didn't break his stride, though his heart hammered a fran
The Empty Architecture
The silence inside the former headquarters of Elysium was more oppressive than the sound of static outside. It wasn't just a lack of noise; it was the absence of a future. Hanan kicked through a layer of dust that turned out to be microscopic, degraded plastic fragments of server chassis. The sleek, ultramodern lobby of the Elysium facility once the pinnacle of humanity’s digital evolution looked like the skeleton of a prehistoric beast. Wiring hung from the ceiling like desiccated veins, and the walls, stripped of their decorative glass, revealed the ugly, porous concrete underneath.He kept his hand on the handle of the revolver he carried, not because it could stop a Glitch, but because the cold, heavy steel felt more real than the ghost of his own arm. His companion—the tamed Glitch-Walker—lurked near the entrance, a smear of agitated shadows that seemed to shudder whenever Hanan’s stability spiked or dipped."Keep a lid on it," Hanan murmured, glancing back. The creature didn't
Glitch-Walker
The street beneath Hanan’s boots was no longer concrete; it was a patchwork quilt of memory and failing logic. Where gravity had returned, reality didn't just snap back, it shuddered, leaving jagged fissures in the air that looked like spiderwebs made of black light."Revoked?" Hanan spat, ignoring the phantom pain vibrating in his core. He kept his eyes locked on the Surveyor, but his peripheral vision screamed danger. Something moved in the cracks. Shadowy, translucent shapes detached themselves from the walls of a half-collapsed department store. They were Glitch-Walkers the inevitable fallout of the deconstruction. They didn't have lungs to breathe or muscles to move; they were predatory manifestations of unfinished thoughts and broken physical laws, drifting through the gaps in the world like predators through tall grass."Permits are for bureaucrats, not gods," Hanan said, stepping back, his hands glowing with the soft, failing blue light of the Universal Core he’d partially a
When Gravity Decides to Retire
The shift didn’t happen with a roar. It happened with a sigh a weary, low-frequency oscillation that rippled through the central business district of Jakarta like a pebble tossed into a still pond. One moment, Hanan was mid-fall through the folding architecture of space; the next, he slammed onto the pavement of Jalan Sudirman. The transition wasn't smooth. His molecules lagged behind, his boots feeling heavy enough to crush the asphalt while his skin felt light, airy, and prone to scattering in the wind.He scrambled to his feet, but his balance was a lie. The ground beneath him didn't pull down; it felt optional. Across the street, a parked delivery truck tipped gently, not from a collision, but because gravity had simply decided to stop working. The vehicle drifted upward, rotating in the mid-morning air like a dead buoy in an ocean current. A driver, trapped in the cab, let out a throttled scream that rose in pitch as he floated past the third story of a glass-clad office buildi
The Sound of Static
The hum was everywhere. It wasn’t a sound you caught with your eardrums; it was a frequency you felt in your marrow, like the vibration of a subway train rumbling beneath an empty house.Hanan sat on the edge of the broadcast tower’s antenna, his legs dangling five hundred meters above the glowing sprawl of Jakarta. The city lights flickered—a strange, jagged rhythm that didn't sync with the hum of the power grid. To anyone else, it looked like a flickering fluorescent bulb. To Hanan, it looked like a dying heartbeat."You're hearing it too, aren't you?" Hanan didn't turn his head. He knew the voice. It wasn't Rendy, not exactly. It was the phantom scrap, the leftover recursive loop of the Trinity that he had foolishly kept when he absorbed the dimension's core. It sounded like glass sliding over wet marble."I’m hearing a mess, Rendy," Hanan muttered, picking at a loose thread on his hoodie. The fabric looked solid, but under his thumb, it distorted, briefly showing the sub-atomic c
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