“It’s over.”
That simple phrase cut through the bustle of the command room. I had just finished giving my orders before he spoke:
- All available personnel: contain the panic that had broken out.
- Gather the last ten percent in the hangars for manual extraction.
- Hanami: intercept the intruder and wait for reinforcements.
- Baek, Dimitri, Irina, and Rajiv: move to the location as support.
Simple, direct orders—abruptly interrupted.
Everyone had started following my instructions, but they froze at those words and turned to look at the speaker.
Caetano stood at the center of the room under everyone’s stunned gaze after such a proclamation.
“Leader Caetano, what do you mean?”
Caetano looked at the poor operator who raised his hand to ask, utterly indifferent.
“As I said… it’s over. The rescue mission has ended. Withdraw to begin your digitization and subsequent evacuation. That’s all. Good work.”
Caetano spoke in a measured way through his aura—the most common communication method for high-speed conversations.
With his aura projected to every staff member in the city, he delivered that message.
There was a pause.
Even I was confused for a moment. But I understood.
Wow. You managed to fool even me, Caetano. Congratulations.
I truly hadn’t noticed. I’d been too focused on Dinamo.
“What the fuck are you talking about, Caetano?! My son still hasn’t been evacuated! You’d better expl—!”
The silence shattered abruptly under the uncontrolled clamor of one of the operators. But Caetano imposed silence again with his aura.
“As I said, Maicol, the evacuation is over.”
“B-b-but my s-son…”
Maicol, scared as he was, kept insisting. I had to give him credit for his guts. As futile as his effort was.
Caetano paused before extending his arm and projecting a hologram.
It showed a man I assumed was Maicol’s son because of the resemblance. Beside him, an info sheet.
“Diego Yanies. Hedonist. Spends his time in simulations committing disgusting acts against simulated people. His crimes range from abuse and humiliation to explicit torture. Age range or sex is irrelevant to him.”
“Although abuse in simulations isn’t criminalized, in every sense your son is a degenerate who’s better off dead.”
Silence.
No one could speak after that revelation. And Caetano didn’t stop there.
“I would have preferred to finish him off and pass it off as a suicide.”
“But you couldn’t because I arrived?” I commented, already knowing the answer.
Something had felt off, and this was it. No wonder such a high percentage had killed themselves.
“Yes,” Caetano confirmed with a nod. “Even though you would understand my actions, Lady Katherine, you wouldn’t have allowed me to continue. The moment Dinamo’s assault on the dome began, besides making preparations for the battle, I started a silent purge. If you had arrived a bit later, the evacuation would have been easier after the purge.”
Maicol straightened up.
He no longer looked like a simple operator. He wasn’t just another technician.
He was a father with a mission to protect his son.
“They were just simulations! They weren’t real! It was a way to blow off steam! You can’t do that to a kid just because—!”
“Simulations,” Caetano repeated, cutting him off instantly, without raising his voice.
He extended his arm once more. Another hologram appeared.
This one wasn’t a clean profile. It was a video.
A virtual figure—clearly Diego—pinned a simulated woman to the ground while hitting her and laughing, repeating obscene and humiliating phrases. The scene looped and shifted—small children to the elderly, human bodies to designs barely compatible with the human form.
In another clip, he slowly tore off the fingers of a child model while recording the screams to replay later as background music. All of it with video-game filters and a cartoonish aesthetic that made the violence look like a joke.
Horrible.
Even I had to look away.
Not because of how graphic it was.
But because of what it meant.
What we tolerated.
What I did…
Silence.
Maicol lowered his gaze. Clenched his fists. But he didn’t give up.
“He’s still my son! You can’t just decide someone doesn’t deserve to live! You’re not God, Caetano!”
No. He isn’t.
But sometimes I wonder if someone here is trying a little too hard to look like it.
Caetano didn’t answer.
He just raised his hand.
Maicol collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
No violence. No special effects.
Just… switched off.
“His loss won’t be physical, Lady Katherine. He’ll only be out of combat during the evacuation,” he clarified without me asking.
“I assumed as much.”
I took a deep breath. Pressed my lips together.
I didn’t interfere. I understood perfectly what drove him.
But did it really have to come to this?
The answer was obvious by now.
Caetano turned on his heel.
“Proceeding with the rest of the personnel.”
A subtle wave spread from his body. Not an explosion, not a shockwave.
Something cleaner. More surgical. Controlled.
In moments, every operator, technician, low-, mid-, and high-rank soldier—everyone—collapsed gently into their seats, onto the floor, wherever they were.
As if exhaustion had suddenly overwhelmed them.
Only I remained awake.
Of course.
The Rank 10s as well, obviously.
“Cleaning and assistance robots, enter. Immediate extraction protocol. Priority one,” Caetano ordered, using his aura as the channel.
From the edges of the room, the bulkheads opened and a line of robotic units entered with mechanical precision. They checked vital signs, positioned bodies carefully, and carried them on floating stretchers toward digitization points or physical transfer routes.
The same happened across the entire city staff.
I just watched.
Without moving.
Without intervening.
Without saying a word.
Because, deep down, I already understood.
This wasn’t an evacuation.
The evacuation was already over.
This was a cleanup.
Again—silence.
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
Until…
“Please forgive me, Lady Katherine. I was disrespectful.”
In front of me, the imposing, ruthless Caetano knelt, head bowed deeply to the floor.
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Hands extended forward.
And I’m sure I heard a faint sob.
But I didn’t comment on it.
“You know you can call me ‘mom’ in private.”
I felt a little bad about his reaction. I’d rather he calmed down a bit. I wasn’t particularly upset about his deception or his actions. In fact, I approved.
“How could I, my lady? I’m not worthy of—”
“Cut it out. I told you it’s fine. Now could you please stand up? This is a bit uncomfortable.”
“As you say.”
Sometimes it was hard to deal with the consequences of brainwashing. It was hard to predict how much to manipulate without turning them into puppets.
With Caetano standing again, I moved on to the necessary questions.
“So in this dome it was forty percent?”
It was grim to know how far human cruelty reached. Forty percent had to be some kind of record.
“Yes, my lady. Approximately that figure. Although some of the deaths were the result of chance. Unfortunately, my control over the situation was limited.”
“Ahhh…”
I couldn’t help sighing.
It was the same in every dome. No matter how hard we tried to prevent it, there were always people who enjoyed other people’s suffering.
But forty percent—without a doubt, it was a lot.
“How troublesome. And what about the traitors? Was that also your doing?”
“Mostly, I guided them into betrayal, though some were unexpected,” Caetano nodded at my question. I’d expected that answer once I connected the dots.
“I see…”
Silence between us.
Caetano looked a little nervous as that silence stretched.
Then I spoke.
“Are you okay with this?”
“With what?”
He looked genuinely confused.
“With how this ends. If you manage to survive the fight with Dinamo, you’ll be facing a public punishment. You could’ve knocked them out and passed it off as Dinamo’s doing.”
That was true. He didn’t need to carry responsibility for his actions.
“It’s fine like this,” Caetano replied more relaxed now, with a soft smile.
I sighed again at his answer.
“If you say so. You’d better prepare. You have three minutes to get yourself mentally ready for the battle. Use them. You’re our trump card, no matter how this plays out.”
“As you command. And what about you, Lady Katherine?”
“I’m going to deal with our ‘guest.’ I already told the others to wait for me. And before you ask: you can’t come. I want you to rest. I want you at your best. You’re the most important person in this dome.”
“As you command.”
He looked a bit disappointed by my order. But it was necessary. He would be crucial in the fight.
He had to be in the best condition possible—or this entire evacuation would have been a waste of time and resources.
Without another word, I left for the meeting point, leaving a melancholy Caetano behind.
“What do we have here? A little lamb outside the flock?”
“Aww, did you run away from daddy Dinamo?”
“Spoiler: he doesn’t want to see you. So you’d better stay very still. Yes—before I fill you with little holes.”
Hanami appeared quickly behind the intruder.
Her kodachi aimed straight at the center of his back.
One wrong move and she’d end his life.
“Hehe. I couldn’t have said it better myself. Could you lower your weapon? I promise I don’t want trouble. Please.”
The intruder looked relatively calm, even with a lethal weapon pressed at point-blank range.
I was watching the situation through a camera provided to Hanami before she went out.
Baek, being the closest, would take almost ten seconds to arrive. Dimitri, at least fifteen. The rest of us, a bit more than that.
For now, Hanami’s job was to keep the intruder busy and prevent any conflict before we arrived.
As for the intruder—
He stood calmly, Hanami behind him. I couldn’t see his face, but from his voice, he sounded calm.
As if the lethal weapon aimed at him wasn’t a threat.
Did he really think he could avoid Hanami stabbing him? I had to admire his confidence.
He wore a dark business suit, carefully pressed. At first glance: formal. At second: ritualistic.
The edges of the jacket were embroidered with Hebrew inscriptions—ancient verses intertwined with Kabbalistic symbols and religious patterns.
A mass vestment disguised as an executive’s suit.
His entire body was covered in dense white fur—unusually neat. Not scruffy, but cultivated. As if the animal aesthetic had been part of the design from the beginning.
The black beard framing his face was trimmed with obsessive precision.
Too symmetrical to be casual.
Too human to be natural.
His hair fell straight down the back of his neck, contrasting with the whiteness of his torso and arms, exposed under the open jacket.
And, of course, the horns.
Small, curved backward, emerging smoothly from his skull—as if they’d always been there. As if it weren’t a costume.
Because it wasn’t.
A goat dressed like a banker.
Or a preacher disguised as prey.
Probably a member of some sect. At a glance, he didn’t look like a follower of Dinamo—at least not a common one.
Now the question: what was his purpose in coming here?
There was a moment of silence. Held up by both a strangely patient Hanami and the intruder’s expectant calm.
Silence that the intruder broke.
“So you’re not going to lower your weapon? As I’ve said, I have no malicious intentions. In fact, I come with a proposal that benefits all of us. On behalf of our beloved king, of course.”
Definitely not with Dinamo.
None of his cultists would dare call him anything less than a god.
Who could this king be?
There was a pause. Then Hanami laughed.
—Hahaha, sorry, little lamb, but the fabulous Ha-na-mi is waiting for her buddies.
—Be a good boy and hit mute.
“Reinforcements, huh? Could you tell them not to attack me on sight? I wouldn’t like to have to run without completing my mission.”
Still confident? Or can you actually escape?
I wouldn’t know until I arrived. For the time being, Hanami found his answer amusing again.
—Eeee~ What’ve we got here, a tryhard? We’ll see if you keep that attitude when I skewer you with my knife.
Hanami said nothing else. Her blade pressed in even closer, dangerously so.
—We’ll see, I guess.
Again—silence.
There was nothing more to say. Only waiting remained.
Time passed with brisk slowness.
One by one, the people assigned to the interception mission arrived.
The first was Baek.
He arrived with elegance, with delicacy. His arrival barely disturbed the air.
Thanks to him, I got a clear confirmation of the intruder’s frontal appearance.
A goat-man, just as I’d expected.
Baek took a relaxed but alert stance, then paused to wait for the others.
Next came Dimitri.
His entrance was explosive.
Like a colossus, he arrived warping everything—rough and aggressive.
No subtlety. No delicacy. He made sure everyone knew he was here.
Though he restrained himself from commenting.
His eyes radiated battle lust toward the intruder.
But he stopped beside Baek, waiting for the rest of the reinforcements.
A sharp nod to Baek and Hanami.
The last to arrive were Irina, Rajiv, and me.
How I cursed the shortcomings of this robotic body.
This version was far too outdated.
It ended up delaying our arrival.
Which created a tense silence between the four of them.
Almost on the verge of a fight.
Should I update my bodies in the remaining domes? The thought flickered through me, then I discarded it quickly. It would be astonishing if Dinamo granted another evacuation like this.
Now isn’t the time to think about that.
Once we arrived, everyone took their positions.
I stepped to the front, directly facing the intruder; Irina and Rajiv at my sides, slightly ahead.
Baek and Dimitri flanked him from opposite angles, and Hanami held her place in the rear, still threatening him with her kodachi.
We clearly had the advantage.
Now… what do I do with you?
“I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this audience, Your Excellency Katherine. May the king bless us with his grace. Amen.”
Before I could decide exactly what to do with him, the intruder offered his respects and dipped into a slight bow.
Everyone looked confused by his behavior. I did not—not as much.
“So. What brings you here?”
I chose to start the conversation while confirming what I already knew.
He’s strong.
Nowhere near Dinamo’s level, but enough that I wasn’t sure who would win between him and Caetano.
Which meant that if this turned violent, we’d have to give it everything to bring him down.
So it wasn’t baseless confidence.
“I am a messenger. My king—the Creator of Miracles, the Forger of Legends, the Unstoppable King Baldwin—has sent me here today to request an alliance against the tyranny of the False God Dinamo.
I beg you to hear our request.”
This wasn’t what I’d expected when I brought everyone here, but it was certainly a fortunate development.
Although…
“And what, exactly, would this alliance entail, if I may ask?”
“The details will be delivered by my King. I am only a messenger presenting the invitation. My King is very interested in meeting with you; he will even accept any condition necessary to make it happen, but I feel I have arrived at an unfortunate moment.”
At least he was perceptive. I had to give him that.
“It certainly is.”
An alliance?
I’d heard that word many times over my long life.
But it felt different this time.
I knew why. I only hoped this last attempt would be the end.
I didn’t want to imagine the consequences otherwise.
“Could you tell me what’s going on? I’ve been traveling nonstop. Is something important happening?”
It seemed the messenger had no idea what was going on.
“Well… Dinamo is currently attacking the dome you’re heading toward. We managed to secure a temporary truce, but I’m afraid time is running out.”
“I understand.”
I could see genuine surprise on the goat-face of the messenger. Apparently, he hadn’t expected this.
There was a brief pause while I chose the next course of action.
I preferred to end this conversation as quickly as possible.
I wanted to dedicate these last moments entirely to the coming battle.
“To show our sincerity… what would Your Excellency think if you were to use me as an asset in the upcoming battle? I wouldn’t mind dying if it serves to show you my King’s resolve.”
There wasn’t a hint of doubt on his face. Only unwavering faith that this was the right thing.
That if his death meant a possible alliance, then so it must be.
Like my children, I thought cryptically.
“I understand your intentions. And although you may not necessarily die—what guarantees do we have that you won’t betray us? How can we trust you won’t stab us in the back?”
It was a valid question.
Who would entrust their life to a stranger they’d just met?
The messenger took a step forward with complete serenity. Hanami followed diligently, her blade still aimed.
“I came prepared for this.”
Everyone watched him cautiously. No one spoke. They expected an attack. A revelation. A threat.
What came was something else.
“If you allow it, Your Excellency, I am willing to seal a conceptual contract.”
Silence.
This time not from tension, but from shock.
Even Dimitri seemed to widen his eyes slightly. Hanami almost let her weapon dip. And Baek simply stayed firm—but I noticed the subtle change in his posture.
Irina and Rajiv at my sides were surprised as well: Irina brought her hands to her chest, and Rajiv, though he hid it well, let out a faint snort.
A conceptual contract?
Very few would be willing to do something like that. And even fewer under these circumstances.
“If you accept, I will commit to your cause. So long as you do not order me to act against my deepest beliefs, I will do whatever you ask of me. Without hesitation.”
His tone was firm, reverent. No arrogance in his words. Only conviction.
I crossed my arms as I watched him in silence.
This could be useful.
And also dangerous.
Conceptual contracts are agreements sealed with the soul. Bonds that cannot be broken, not even by supernatural means.
In a world where ideas shape reality, words are not mere tools—they are forces.
A commitment spoken under conceptual oath can carry consequences worse than death.
Because you don’t just risk your body.
You give up your meaning. Your reason to be. To exist.
That’s why they aren’t done lightly.
That’s why no one spoke.
“Are you completely sure?” I asked calmly, without softening the weight of my voice. “There’s no going back after this. You could end up bound to me until the end of your days—or until one of us disappears from reality.”
The messenger bowed his head solemnly.
“I am.”
I nodded.
“Then go ahead.”
He stepped forward again. This time, Hanami didn’t follow.
He placed a hand over his chest, right where the white fur parted to reveal his soul.
Or rather—his conceptual core.
The path of the One. The proof of your power. The manifestation of your beliefs. Your weakness. Your strength.
Before us spread an endless meadow of beautiful green grass—mountains, trees, and a climate ideal for grazing, harvesting, and picnics.
For a pact of this kind, it wasn’t necessary to show it.
But he did—as proof of his commitment and devotion.
This would have been the ideal moment to kill him, because he was exposed—but no one moved. Out of respect.
“I, servant of King Baldwin—Creator of Miracles and Forger of Legends—accept this conceptual contract.
I swear that, as long as my principles are not corrupted and my faith is not betrayed, I will place my life, my abilities, and my soul in the service of the great Katherine, protector of humanity.
May the weight of my words fall upon me if I fail this oath.
And may judgment fall upon those who force me to break it.
So I declare. So it shall be.”
An invisible pressure filled the air.
It was as if the universe itself took note of the agreement.
An incomprehensible bond formed between us.
Then the pressure faded.
The contract was done.
No one spoke.
I watched him for a few seconds longer.
“Name,” I said at last.
He lowered his head—not in submission, but by choice.
“Yehiel de Courtenay. Messenger of the throne and faithful servant of the Unstoppable King Baldwin.”
That name—I didn’t recognize it. Proof that something had changed.
That CORE and I had changed fate.
“Good, Yehiel. From now on, you will fight at our side.”
Silence again.
But this time it wasn’t tense.
It was solemn.