2026-05-28 22:37:15The air inside the apartment felt super heavy. Wood dust from the door he just smashed was still floating around, spinning in the night breeze coming in from the balcony.
Hanan stared at the kitchen knife in Rendy's hand. The sharp metal tip was shaking like crazy. To the new Hanan, that knife wasn't even a threat. He could see the carbon structure in the steel, tiny cracks in the handle, and how slow Rendy's nerves were sending fear signals from his brain to his hand muscles.
"The law doesn't apply to ghosts," Rendy hissed, his voice totally cracking. Fear had completely taken over his mind. "You're dead! I saw you fall!"
With a hysterical scream, Rendy lunged forward. He swung the knife straight at Hanan's neck.
To a normal person, that attack might look fast. But for Hanan, it was like time just froze. He didn't dodge. He didn't block. He just casually lifted his right hand and caught the blade with two fingers.
SNAP.
The steel knife broke like a cheap cracker. Rendy's eyes bugged out like they were about to pop. Before his backstabbing friend could even process what happened, Hanan lightly touched Rendy's wrist. It was a super soft touch, but the energy Hanan sent through him totally fried Rendy's nervous system.
Rendy screamed silently. Every muscle in his body cramped up at once, and then he collapsed onto the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. The guy twitched a bit, struggling to grab oxygen that suddenly felt impossible to breathe.
"You're way too slow, man," Hanan whispered. His voice was totally flat. "So slow it's actually boring me."
In the corner, Sarah let out a muffled scream. The woman Hanan used to worship like a goddess was now huddled on the couch, shaking with fear. Her makeup was a mess from all the tears and sweat. She looked at Hanan like he was a monster.
"Hanan... please..." Sarah's voice was shaking hard as Hanan stepped closer. "It's all a misunderstanding. Rendy forced me! He threatened me! I still love you, babe!"
Hanan stopped right in front of Sarah. He stared deep into his wife's eyes. Back in the day, seeing Sarah cry would've made his chest feel tight with guilt and blind love. He would've done anything to dry those tears.
Now? Hanan tried to find any leftovers of those feelings. He looked for a spark of anger, some heartbreak, or even a tiny drop of love that might still be there.
Zip. Everything was empty.
Hanan only saw a pathetic chemical reaction. He could smell the pheromones of fear coming off Sarah's pores. He could hear her heart racing as she frantically cooked up lie after lie to survive. There was no love there. Never was.
"You love me?" Hanan gave a soft laugh. It sounded so cold it gave Sarah goosebumps. "You said I was a biological burden. You said just looking at me made you wanna puke."
"I didn't mean it! I was just stressed out taking care of you!" Sarah tried to reach for Hanan's hand, but he brushed her off with a smooth move that sent her flying back onto the couch.
"You guys are honestly pathetic," Hanan said, turning to look at Rendy, who was still gasping for air on the floor. "I used to think the best revenge would be killing you both with my own hands. I wanted to see you guys totally smashed to pieces."
Hanan walked over to the coffee table. Sarah and Rendy's phones were lying there side by side. Hanan didn't even touch them. He just focused his mind on the electromagnetic waves in the room. The energy in his chest reacted instantly.
Both phone screens lit up bright at the same time.
"But death is way too quick for trash like you," Hanan continued calmly. "You both live for how other people see you. Status, money, and image. Let's see what happens when I rip all that away."
Within seconds, everything on their phones was exposed. Photos of their affair, their disgusting chat history from the last two years, even their shady plan to take Hanan's insurance money. Everything was sent out en masse. To all their contacts, family groups, their bosses' emails, and auto-uploaded to every social media platform.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
Notification sounds started popping off one by one, sounding the death knell for Sarah and Rendy's lives.
"By tomorrow morning, the whole world's gonna know exactly who you really are," Hanan stared at them, his eyes slowly starting to glow with a faint golden light. "You'll stay alive, but you'll be begging to die."
Without waiting for them to react, Hanan walked through the sliding door to the balcony. The night wind hit his face immediately.
"Hanan! Where are you going?!" Sarah screamed hysterically, realizing her life was officially over.
Hanan stood at the edge of the balcony, looking at the mess he just made behind him, then at the glowing city lights of Jakarta below.
"I'm gonna find out," Hanan muttered more to himself. "Why this god-like power feels way more like a curse."
Hanan let himself fall backward. Letting gravity pull him down from the tenth floor for the second time that night.
Sarah and Rendy crawled frantically to the balcony railing. They peeked down, hoping to see Hanan's body smashed on the asphalt.
But the street down there was totally empty. Hanan had vanished into the night, leaving behind two people who were now officially residents of a living hell.
Hanan landed on the roof of a skyscraper miles away from his apartment. He landed without making a single sound. The concrete under his feet didn't even crack. His control over physics was basically perfect now.
He stood there like a statue, looking out at the ocean of city lights.
The cracks in his soul felt like they were getting wider. Every second, new info about the universe kept pouring into his brain. He could see radio signals flying through the air. He could feel the earth spinning on its axis.
But as that understanding grew, his human side kept fading away.
The satisfaction of wrecking Sarah and Rendy lasted less than a minute. After that, the emptiness hit him again. So thick and cold.
"You satisfied yet?"
A super familiar voice echoed in the empty air behind Hanan. Hanan didn't turn around. He knew exactly who that voice belonged to.
"I don't feel a thing," Hanan answered flatly.
"Of course you don't," the figure stepped forward until he was standing right next to Hanan.
The figure was a projection of himself. The old Hanan sitting in a wheelchair, body thin and pale, but his face was now wearing a terrifying, predator-like grin.
"Welcome to the eternal silence, Hanan," the projection whispered, eyes glowing bright.
"Now that you know revenge is a total bore, what are you gonna do with this world?"
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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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