The hours inside "The Ship" passed like drops of water in an ocean of silence. In this isolated, subterranean world, there was no night or day, only the constant flow of data and the faint blue glow of the holographic screens. Arthur sat on the command platform, which had formed from the room's floor to accommodate his seated position, his eyes following numbers and symbols streaming across a secondary interface.
He was reviewing routine data on agricultural production in the southern provinces, but his mind was elsewhere. It was suspended in the massive computational process he had initiated, which was consuming a significant portion of The Ship's immense resources. The "Black Swan" algorithm was combing through a history of disasters, searching for a ghost in the data, for the echo of a catastrophic pattern in that anomalous, isolated gate.
"Orion, any update?" he asked for the fifth time in an hour.
"The algorithm is still in the processing phase," came the calm, familiar reply. "Current progress: 87%. No preliminary results yet."
Arthur sighed. The waiting was getting on his nerves. To occupy his mind, he closed the agricultural reports window and commanded in a clear voice, "Run a defensive simulation. Target: the city of Kyra. Attack scenario: an invasion from a Grade-6 gate, with a focus on armored flying units."
The map before him changed, zooming in to show a detailed three-dimensional model of the main city in his province—the regional capital that bore his sister's name. The walls, the fortresses, and the street grid appeared with stunning accuracy. Then, a wave of red symbols representing the monsters appeared, advancing toward the walls.
Arthur watched the simulation unfold. He saw how the defenses in the western sector would collapse due to a lack of anti-air cannons, and how the enemy could exploit the old sewer network to infiltrate behind the lines. He was taking notes, developing contingency plans, and correcting the course of the virtual defenses. This was his constant worry, his obsession hidden beneath all the layers of indifference. Protecting his home.
As he was immersed in his defensive tactics, Orion's voice interrupted him. This time, her tone carried a subtle, almost imperceptible urgency. "Master Arthur. The algorithm is about to complete its initial phase."
In an instant, the simulation of Kyra city vanished. Arthur's focus returned entirely to "Project Cassandra," and to that single anomalous point on the world map.
The calm did not last long.
Without warning, the command deck was flooded with a flashing red light, but it wasn't bright. It was dim and deep, the color of clotted blood. An alarm sounded, not a loud shriek, but a low-frequency hum, a sound you felt in your bones more than you heard with your ears. It was an alarm designed not to incite panic, but to command absolute focus.
On the main panoramic screen, words appeared in huge, glowing letters:
>> WARNING: 'BLACK SWAN' CLASS PATTERN MATCH DETECTED <<
Arthur felt a chill run down his spine, a coldness that had nothing to do with the room's temperature.
"Display the results," he said, his voice forced into a steady tone.
"The anomalous gate, automatically designated 'Harbinger-001'," Orion's voice began, "shows a 94.7% match in its energy spectrum pattern with the 'Hyperion Collapse' gate."
Arthur froze in place. The "Hyperion Collapse" wasn't just a catastrophe; it was a near-extinction event that had occurred a century ago. A legendary Grade-9 gate that had wiped an entire kingdom off the map.
"Impossible," Arthur muttered. "Our initial readings barely place Harbinger-001 at Grade-2. Hyperion was a thousand times more powerful. There must be an error in the algorithm."
"The algorithm is correct," Orion replied with logical coldness. "It is the data that does not follow known rules. I have completed the deep spectral analysis you ordered."
A complex graph appeared, floating in the air before Arthur. It represented the anomalous gate. It had two layers. An outer layer, thin and calm, emitting low energy consistent with a Grade-2 gate. But inside, behind this mask, there was a nucleus, a boiling and writhing core, seething with immense energy density—energy that perfectly matched a cataclysmic gate.
"It's... hiding," Arthur whispered, disbelief wrestling with understanding in his mind. "The deep spectral analysis shows the gate is using a low-energy outer shell to conceal an inner core of immense energy density. It's behaving like a 'cocoon.' This behavior has never been documented before. Ever."
In that moment, the frustrated scholar, the prodigal son, and the indifferent brother all vanished. All that remained in The Ship was the commander. Arthur straightened up, his gaze turning to the sharpness of steel. The time for analysis and waiting was over. It was time for action.
"Orion!" His tone was as sharp as the sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath. "Divert 25% of the entire network's monitoring resources to Harbinger-001 immediately. I want updates every minute. Analyze any change in the outer shell's energy, no matter how slight. Begin calculating all potential invasion paths if this cocoon hatches, but assume the true threat level is equivalent to a Grade-8 gate at minimum. I want to know where they will go."
"Commands in progress," Orion replied, and parts of the world map began to dim as monitoring resources were diverted.
Arthur walked toward the panoramic screen, where the image of the continent shone with a deceptive calm. "What is the closest populated area to the projected emergence point?"
It took Orion only three seconds to process the question. A pulsating red circle appeared on the map, and at its center lay the anomalous gate. "The nearest large population center within the primary danger-circle is the province of 'Elara'."
Arthur felt his breath catch in his chest.
"Orion," he said slowly, his voice growing quieter and more dangerous. "Be more specific. What is the main city in that circle?"
A bright point appeared in the heart of the red circle, and its name appeared beside it in clear, white letters.
Kyra.
Arthur stared at the name, at that tiny dot that represented his home, his sister, and everything he had secretly sworn to protect. This was no longer a theoretical problem, no longer just a piece of "Project Cassandra." It had just become a personal, direct threat aimed at his heart.
His features hardened, turning into a mask of ice. He was staring at the small harbinger, that faint ember on the map, but he was seeing the firestorm that would follow. And he was seeing his city standing directly in its path.