While chaos was unfolding across every Shelter City, an aged man with black hair streaked clearly with white stood in a dark room before 13 screens. His back was straight, eyes focused, and brows furrowed.
Twelve of the screens showed the worn faces of elderly n, and the thirteenth was currently playing the massacre scene involving Adyr.
The man standing before the screens, showing absolute respect in his deanor toward them, was Henry Bates. All twelve screens were displaying video calls with the City Managers of the twelve Shelter Cities.
"Sir, with all due respect, the situation has spiraled out of control," Henry Bates said, bowing his head respectfully.
Since Adyr began mowing down the mutant army, those watching the live broadcast started showing strange symptoms. Reports kept coming in—people fainting suddenly, so collapsing with heart attacks, and even deaths.
And these were not small numbers. Just in Shelter City 9, the death toll had already passed a thousand.
Unable to bear it, Henry raised his head and looked at the faces of the elderly n and won before him. Each was a founder of one of the twelve cities that had survived the apocalypse. They were nearing 300 years of age.
Even with the advanced mutant genes coursing through their bodies, they looked like dry branches—aged and fragile, dependent on machines just to breathe. Yet in their eyes burned an unyielding stubbornness, a refusal to die.
Alongside that, fear was visible on their faces, their bodies trembling slightly. It was clear that Adyr’s combination of Presence and Malice was affecting them deeply.
After several long seconds of silence, Henry couldn’t take the pressure anymore and opened his mouth. "We need to cut the broadcast now—before the damage becos irreversible."
Henry was deeply concerned. He was the one who had assigned Adyr the mission to stop the mutant assault—but the order hadn’t been his alone. The City Manager had directly instructed him to do so.
Of course, he hadn’t anticipated an outco like this. Had he known, he would’ve opposed the order without hesitation. But now, there was nothing he could do—except plead with the twelve City Managers to shut the broadcast down.
But the answer he received wasn’t what he expected.
"We can’t," said one of the elderly won, her voice worn with age.
"Why?" Henry asked, eyes narrowing in confusion.
Another man responded this ti, his voice just as old and weighed down with exhaustion. "It’s not sothing we can decide," he said. After a brief pause, he added, "Or interfere with."
Henry felt a jolt of disbelief. "What do you an?"
The faces on the screens belonged to the twelve most powerful figures on Earth. With a single word, any one of them could ignite wars or broker peace. And now they claid they didn’t have the authority to stop a broadcast? It sounded like complete nonsense.
Until a new screen flickered on in the dark room.
A shadowed silhouette appeared, and a young yet deep voice echoed through the silence.
"They an they have no power to oppose fate."
Henry turned to look at the new figure who had joined the conversation. The silhouette on the screen was completely shrouded in shadow—no features were visible. Yet the mont this person appeared, all twelve City Managers fell utterly silent. Their tense postures and faintly respectful deanor made it clear this was no ordinary individual.
A na surfaced in Henry’s mind, but he asked to be sure. "Forgive my disrespect, sir, but... who might you be?"
"?" The shadowed figure tilted his head slightly, then gave a low chuckle.
"I’m soone whose curiosity led him to et fate—and soone lucky enough to be chosen to carry its ssage."
After a pause, he noticed the confusion on Henry’s face, chuckled again, and added, "You can call Mad Scientist. I’ve grown fond of the nickna."
This was the man behind the discovery of the new world—the one who had invented the ga helts.
Henry had heard the na many tis before, but this was his first ti speaking with the man directly. He bowed his head slightly and said with respect, "It’s an honor to et you, sir."
"No need to be formal with ," the shadow replied casually. "After all, you’re one of fate’s chosen, too. Even if not chosen to play the ga."
Henry didn’t quite understand what he ant by that, and judging by the man’s tone, he had no intention of explaining. So Henry moved on to what mattered most.
"Sir, please. We need to stop the broadcast."
It was clear this man had the power to do it—maybe he was the only one who could.
But once again, the response left Henry in quiet frustration.
"Nope. It stays," the shadow said, just as relaxed as before.
Henry’s shoulders slumped slightly. His voice ca out low and strained. "Why?"
Every second, another life was slipping away, triggered by sudden heart attacks with no clear dical explanation. The exact cause was still unknown, but the source was obvious: that strange sensation emanating from Adyr. Whatever it was, it was sohow affecting everyone watching the screen.
The shadowy figure paused for a brief mont. Then, in a deep, razor-sharp tone, he spoke:
"Because today is Judgnt Day."
Even without seeing his face, Henry could tell the man was smiling.
Before he could ask what that ant, the figure continued, his voice steady, almost reverent:
"The walls are cracking, and our dinsion is entering a new era. The unworthy are being purged. Only those chosen by fate—people like you and —will remain to witness what cos next."
A chill ran down Henry’s spine. Sothing in the way he said it made it clear: this wasn’t a taphor.
"What do you an by fate?" Henry asked, his gaze shifting toward the screen where Adyr was still fighting. What was purging people right now wasn’t sothing abstract like fate—it was him. That boy.
Sensing what Henry was thinking, the Mad Scientist imdiately responded.
"No, no," he said quickly. "He’s not fate. Nor is he soone chosen by it."
His shadowed form leaned closer to the screen, and this ti, his voice ca twisted, cracking, and warped with a hint of madness.
"Instead, he’s soone who will one day try to judge fate itself."
With that, the shadow leaned back and, in a teasing tone, called out, "No more spoilers." The screen abruptly went dark, cutting off the transmission and leaving behind a room full of stunned, questioning faces.
As Henry looked at the twelve aged faces on the screens, all he saw were the sa uncertain expressions—questioning, confused. But beneath that, there was sothing else. A quiet resignation, as if they had grown used to such cryptic conversations.
"Henry," said the City Manager of Shelter City 9 in a slow, asured tone, "I know it’s complicated. My advice? Don’t try to understand it. It’ll be easier that way."
Another nodded and added, "Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. Everything will unfold smoothly. Just rember—this is all for the new era... and to finally end the cycle."
With those words, the twelve screens abruptly shut off, leaving Henry alone in the dark room, surrounded by silence—and a thousand unanswered questions.
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