The Glitch Auditor: Overthrowing The Sky

THE ROTTENNESS OF THE HIGH BOARDROOM

The darkness from the total blackout blanketed the Sky Tower like a colossal shroud. The sterile neon glare that usually scorched Neo Jakarta's sky was gone. For the first time in decades, the tallest building in the city looked dead.

The outer layer of the cyber defense system was completely paralyzed. No retinal scanners. No DNA validation. No synthetic voices demanding authorization. Only silence.

Arka stood in front of the main gates alongside the five Fallen Angels. His face was pale and his breath was shallow, but his eyes remained razor sharp. In his hand, he held a sleek black access card forged with god tier encryption that would normally be impossible for an ordinary human to touch.

"Jessica really put everything on the line," the silver haired angel muttered, eyeing the card.

"She didn't have a choice," Arka replied flatly.

"Just like us."

He swiped the card.

CLICK!

The doors unlocked. Without any resistance.

They stepped inside. They bypassed layer after layer of security security systems with ease. Biometric sensors only blinked weakly, like dying organisms no longer capable of running their functions. Even the sterile corridors, normally patrolled by drones, stood empty.

The emergency elevator was already waiting.

"Straight to the top?" one of the Angels asked.

Arka didn’t answer.

He simply stepped inside. The doors slid shut.

The magnetic driven elevator shot upward silently, soaring through hundreds of floors in a matter of seconds. The atmospheric pressure shifted drastically. An ordinary human body would have blacked out instantly, yet they remained standing tall.

Only Arka faltered. His hand gripped the metal wall. The blue fractures across his chest throbbed violently.

"Nara's chip heartbeat is accelerating," the silver-haired angel said, his tone growing serious.

"Your body is unstable."

"I know," Arka whispered.

The elevator ground to a halt.

TING!

The ten meter tall black marble doors slid open slowly, without a sound, as if welcoming uninvited guests. The room was massive. Too massive to be called a mere room. It resembled an arena of power, built specifically to crush the spirit of anyone who entered.

It was pitch black, save for the red indicator lights of the backup generators pulsing like a mechanical heart. At the center of the room stood a giant glass cylinder.

The Mainframe. Bionic coolant fluid flowed inside it, glowing a faint teal, enveloping the core system that acted as the brain of the entire city.

"Beautiful," one of the Angels murmured.

"Disgusting," Arka corrected.

He took a step forward, but his legs buckled. He leaned his body against a marble pillar. Thick blue blood seeped through the spaces between his shirt buttons.

"Our time is limited," the silver haired angel warned.

"Thirty minutes, max. And that’s assuming your body doesn't collapse first."

"Shut up," Arka cut him off. His voice was freezing cold.

"Guard the door."

They immediately scattered, taking up their defensive positions. Arka walked toward the main console. Every step felt heavy. Every breath felt like dragging a blade into his lungs. Yet, he kept moving forward until he finally stood before the mainframe.

He raised his hand. It was trembling violently. Then, he slammed his fingers onto the virtual keyboard.

"System," he said quietly, but with commanding weight.

"Execute maximum level data audit. Run a Due Diligence check on all energy cash flow accounts."

[PROCESS SUCCESSFUL: Accessing Root Directory of the Central System.]

[Loading Interdimensional Consolidated Financial Statements.]

A massive holographic screen exploded before Arka's eyes, displaying rows of numbers and graphs that had been hidden from the world for half a century. Arka narrowed his eyes, reading through line after line of the balance sheet with the surgical precision of a senior auditor. A split second later, his jaw tightened.

"Damn it. This isn't a city utility ledger," Arka hissed.

Clearly printed on the screen was commodity, human soul class C Jakarta sector. Beneath it, there wasn't a single allocation of energy toward Earth's infrastructure maintenance or public welfare.

Ninety nine percent of the soul supply squeezed from the stress and deaths of the labor force on earth was being funneled into an escrow account named.

[COSMIC ENTITY SECTOR DEITY 09]

Arka hacked up blood. His body collapsed onto one knee. The blue fractures across his chest widened as system error codes began to flash into his vision.

"You look terrible, Arka," a voice called out casually.

Arka forced his head up. His gaze remained sharp. A figure stepped out from the shadows.

"You are selling human beings," Arka said.

The Supreme CEO smiled faintly.

"The word selling sounds so crude. We prefer to call it… asset optimization."

"You bastard."

"We are just being realistic," the CEO countered.

"Without this system, humans would still be slaughtering one another just to survive. We simply made the process more efficient."

Arka let out a weak laugh, even as blood continued to pool from his mouth.

"Efficient? You are trading souls."

"And they receive a stable life in return," the CEO replied smoothly. "It’s a fair trade."

"Without their consent."

"Consent is a luxury," the CEO remarked. "Not a necessity."

A heavy silence filled the room.

"And you," the CEO continued, "are disrupting that balance."

Arka tried to stand up, but failed.

"You are already dying," the CEO said.

"Your body was never engineered to contain Nara 091's data load."

The CEO laughed, his voice echoing with tactical satisfaction as he stared down at the helpless analyst.

"You managed to cut the city's power, but you forgot one fundamental rule, in corporate management, we always have a risk mitigation budget."

The CEO raised his gold armored right hand and slammed his palm onto the emergency terminal fixed to his high backed chair.

BEEP!

[ANTIVIRUS PROTOCOL ACTIVE, ACCELERATING DIAGNOSTIC PURGE OF COMPONENT NARA 091]

[REMAINING TIME UNTIL NARA'S DATA WIPEOUT, REDUCED FROM 20 DAYS TO 60 MINUTES!]

Their time had been cut short. Brutally.

"No…" one of the Angels whispered from the door.

Arka fell completely silent.

His eyes widened.

"One hour," the CEO said softly. "That is all you have left."

Arka clenched his fists hard. The blue fractures across his chest flared even brighter, humming with a volatile energy.

"You will die," the CEO continued coldly. "And that data will be wiped out completely. No trace. No audit. No evidence."