The world was blind, but the Triad of Sin could see perfectly. The global blackout, orchestrated by Sigma through the hijacked Global Data Core, had plunged the planet into a digital dark age. Banks failed, communication ceased, and the mighty Global Task Force (GTF) found itself operating on outdated paper maps and frantic, unsecure radio channels. This was not merely an act of terrorism; it was a reset switch, flicked by the hand of a dark god.
While cities across the globe descended into a primitive scramble for resources, Fyodor made his next move.
"The populace is fractured," Sigma reported, his face illuminated by a hundred holographic data streams flowing through Site-X's command center. "Panic is widespread. Civil authority is crumbling in major metropolitan areas. This is the optimal window for territorial acquisition."
"Excellent," Fyodor replied, his voice calm, as if discussing the weather. He stood before a massive tactical map of the world, bathed in the soft blue glow of its projections. His fingers hovered over a small, resource-rich nation nestled between two warring continents: Elysium.
Elysium was a peculiar nation, once a utopian experiment in clean governance, now a forgotten wasteland after years of internal corruption and neglect by its "allies." It possessed fertile lands, strategic coastline, and a wealth of untapped mineral resources. Crucially, its military was almost non-existent, ravaged by perpetual civil strife.
"Elysium will be the crucible," Fyodor declared. "The first dominion of the Triad. Nicolai, prepare the Chaos Division. Sigma, begin the 'Assimilation Protocols.' We are going to build a new capital."
Nicolai stretched languidly, a wide yawn escaping him. "A whole country? Just for us? Can we build a giant roller coaster out of their old parliament building, Boss-man?"
"You may build whatever you wish, Nicolai," Fyodor answered, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. "Once you have secured the territory."
The invasion of Elysium was less of a war and more of a surgical deconstruction.
It began with the Omega Assets – the most terrifying inmates freed from Ouroboros – being deployed. Vulcan, the pyromancer, led a detachment to the capital city's central power plant, melting its reinforced walls and taking control with terrifying ease. Mistress Shade infiltrated the small military garrisons, turning soldiers into frozen statues of fear before they could even pull a trigger. Vector, the velocity manipulator, disabled the few remaining coastal defenses, turning their own missiles back on their launch sites.
But the true architect of the chaos was Nicolai.
He didn't need an army to create pandemonium; he was pandemonium. He moved through the streets of Elysium's capital, Veridia, like a delighted whirlwind. Pop. He appeared in a police station, tying all the officers into a human knot before vanishing. Pop. He was in the Mayor's office, broadcasting the Mayor's secret illicit affairs to the few remaining radio stations. Pop. He was on the city's largest bridge, planting synchronized explosive charges on every support pillar.
"Alright, Sigma! Ready for the big one!" Nicolai chirped into his comms, perched on the highest spire of the bridge, a dozen flashing detonators in his hand.
"Coordinates confirmed, Nicolai," Sigma's voice came back, calm and precise. "Detonate on my mark. The psychological impact will be significant."
"Three! Two! One! BOOM!" Nicolai yelled, pressing the detonators.
The bridge exploded. A symphony of collapsing steel and shattered concrete, sending plumes of dust and debris into the sky. It wasn't just an act of destruction; it was a statement. Elysium's last connection to the outside world, its symbol of unity, was gone.
In Geneva, the GTF command center was a hive of frantic activity. General Victoria Vane, her face scarred with nanite-induced lesions, watched the satellite feeds with burning eyes. Elysium, once a mere blip on the global radar, was now a red zone.
"They've taken Elysium!" a technician screamed. "Their forces are consolidating! They've declared it the 'Republic of Sin'!"
Elias Thorne, still nursing a broken rib from his encounter with Nicolai, stared at the screens. He saw Fyodor's three-headed serpent symbol being painted over government buildings. He saw the terrified but strangely hopeful faces of some Elysian citizens, looking up at the sky.
"They're not just taking territory, General," Thorne said, his voice grim. "They're establishing a new order. They're giving the people a choice. The ones who follow them will be safe. The ones who don't… won't."
"Then we bomb them into oblivion," Vane snarled. "Deploy Project: Valkyrie. We sterilize Elysium. No survivors. Show them that there is no 'Republic of Sin,' only ashes."
"General, with the global data blackout, our targeting systems are at 30% efficiency!" another technician protested. "We could hit civilian targets! It could spark a global uprising against us!"
Vane slammed her fist on the table. "Then we do it manually! This is war, Thorne! And sometimes, to win a war, you have to sacrifice the pawns!"
Back in the newly christened capital of the Republic of Sin, Fyodor stood on the balcony of the former presidential palace. Below him, the shattered city of Veridia was beginning to rebuild itself—not with construction crews, but with the raw power of the Omega Assets. Vulcan was melting rubble into raw materials, Vector was assembling prefab structures at impossible speeds, and Mistress Shade was cloaking their operations from satellite surveillance.
The citizens of Elysium, initially terrified, watched from a distance. They had seen their old government fail. They had seen the GTF abandon them. Now, these "monsters" had arrived, broken their chains, and were rebuilding with terrifying efficiency.
Fyodor raised his hand. The chaos below suddenly stilled. His voice, amplified by Sigma's mastery of acoustics, boomed across the city.
"People of Elysium!" Fyodor declared, his voice filled with a cold, absolute authority. "Your old masters left you to rot. Your old gods watched you starve. The Triad of Sin has come not to rule you, but to set you free from the hypocrisy of the old world."
He looked out at the sky, where the first GTF bombers were beginning to appear on the horizon, tiny specks against the rising sun.
"The Global Task Force believes they can reclaim this land with fire and steel," Fyodor continued, his voice unwavering. "They are mistaken. This is not just a nation. This is an idea. An idea that cannot be bombed into submission. Today, we stand as the first bastion of true freedom. Any who wish to join our Republic, to build a new world free from corruption and weakness, are welcome."
He paused, then pointed a finger towards the incoming bombers.
"Any who stand against us… shall be purified."
Nicolai materialized beside Fyodor, a wide, excited grin on his face. "Purification? Ooh, I love that word! Can I zap the planes, Boss-man? Can I zap them real good?"
Fyodor simply looked at the approaching bomber formation, a faint, almost divine light reflecting in his eyes. He didn't need to answer Nicolai. He simply willed it.
High above, the lead GTF bomber, a state-of-the-art stealth aircraft, suddenly faltered. Its engines sputtered. Its wings crumpled inward, not from a missile, but from an unseen, impossible force. The plane spiraled out of control, exploding in a fiery ball before it could even cross the Republic of Sin's newly claimed borders.
A gasp rippled through the assembled citizens. They had just witnessed a miracle, performed by a man who claimed to be a god of sin.
"Welcome to the Republic of Sin," Fyodor whispered, his eyes fixed on the burning wreckage. "The cleansing has truly begun."