Ethan and the others assembled in the northern sector of Harbor City, the last stretch of their operation drawing to a grim close. Their forces had moved in a wide, thodical arc, sweeping from the city’s southern edge all the way north, sealing streets, flushing out resistance, and leaving nothing unresolved in their wake. By the ti they regrouped, the city behind them felt hollowed out, as if sothing vital had been carved away.
When the final mbers of their group arrived, Ethan reached into his coat and produced a spatial pouch. The surrounding area fell quiet, an uneasy stillness settling over everyone present.
"Let’s get a count," he said, his voice steady as it carried across the open space.
He inverted the pouch.
What spilled out was not treasure, nor supplies, but a sickening, wet cascade that struck the pavent with heavy, uneven thuds. Dozens of severed heads rolled and stacked against one another, so twisted in frozen shock, others locked in terror or disbelief. Blood slicked the ground, the tallic scent sharp in the air.
"Seven hundred and twelve," Ethan said after a brief glance. Speaking the number aloud gave even him pause. He had not fully grasped the scale while he was fighting, but seeing it condensed into this single, horrifying pile made it impossible to ignore. Energy Users, Mutants, even rcenaries from the Sablon Republic had been embedded throughout the city in far greater numbers than he had anticipated.
If he had killed this many on his own, then Uncle Jed and the others must have done far more.
That assumption proved correct.
One by one, Uncle Jed, Regis, and the rest emptied their own spatial pouches. Each grim spill was accompanied by a spoken tally, the numbers stacking just like the heads themselves. When the final count was added together, Ethan felt a cold weight settle deep in his gut.
"Thirteen thousand, eight hundred and seventy-two," he repeated slowly. "Just in Harbor City."
And this was only a fragnt of Magnolia Valley State. The realization made the true scope of the incursion impossible to dismiss.
They were not alone at the rally point. mbers of the Ninth Division, who had been running their own operations in the area, stood nearby. During the purge, Ethan’s team had crossed paths with them more than once, encounters that had nearly turned violent before words prevailed. The Ninth Division’s mandate was apprehension and containnt, not summary execution, and that difference in philosophy hung thickly between them.
It had been Uncle Jed who first made contact with the Division squad. Ethan arrived shortly after to straighten things out, calmly identifying himself. That alone had changed everything. Within the restructured Ninth Division, the na Ethan Caelum carried undeniable weight. He was the one who had broken the deadlock between the Originalists and the Dissenters, restored the Neutral Faction to power, and reshaped the Division back into what it was ant to be: a shield for the nation rather than a tool for infighting.
On paper, he was still nothing more than a low-ranking mber of M Squad from Harmony City. Unofficially, rumors circulated freely among the upper echelons of the reford command. Ethan was said to operate with near-total latitude. Unless he acted directly against the interests of the Sablon Republic itself, he was to be left alone. So even whispered that if he wanted it, the vacant seat of Division Director, once occupied by Director Vaughn, would be handed to him without resistance.
The new Ninth Division was smaller than before, trimd down after Ethan’s earlier purge of corrupt elents. Those who remained under the Neutral Faction were loyal in a simple, uncompromising way. Their numbers were limited, but their cohesion was absolute. Many veterans with families had chosen not to return, unwilling to drag their loved ones back into a life lived in shadows and blood.
Because they were few, they acted with singular focus. Yet that focus clashed sharply with Ethan’s approach. While the Division was still establishing containnt zones and processing arrests, Ethan had chosen eradication, carving a rciless path straight through the problem.
The operatives watched as the mound of severed heads grew higher. Their expressions told different stories. Older, more conservative mbers looked away with visible discomfort, jaws tight with disapproval. Younger operatives, many raised on stories of the old Neutral Faction’s failures, stared openly. In their eyes flickered a grim, dangerous admiration, along with an unspoken question of what the Division might beco under Ethan’s uncompromising rule.
As the tension lingered, Ethan sent a command through his mind to Shatterstar.
"Access all regional networks. Hijack every public screen, every television, every computer, every mobile device with a display. Force a system-wide broadcast. I’m addressing the state."
[Command received. Initiating network intrusion...]
[Intrusion successful. Broadcast channels secured. Live feed initiating.]
The gauntlet on Ethan’s wrist pulsed with a soft blue glow, projecting a translucent holographic interface into the air. Across Magnolia Valley, every digital screen flickered in unison.
Massive public displays in abandoned shopping districts blinked to life, their silent advertisents replaced. Inside locked-down hos, televisions, monitors, tablets, and phones all activated at once. Even smart doorbells and security systems switched on, their small caras now transmitting the sa image.
For two days, Magnolia Valley had been under siege. Streets lay empty as civilians remained trapped in their hos, many effectively held under house arrest by invading Energy Users. The stronger among the invaders had seized entire apartnt complexes and neighborhoods, consolidating resources and people alike. They gathered VR Capsules and erected crude Magic Barriers to contain the ambient Energy released when thousands were forcibly logged out of Ethereal. The concentration was intoxicating, a feast they had grown drunk on.
These so-called masters, once resigned to harsh mountain retreats, now sprawled across stolen couches, basking in air conditioning and modern luxury.
Their indulgence ended in an instant.
Every screen switched to the sa image.
Confusion rippled through occupied buildings as remotes were clicked and commands barked at unresponsive devices. No matter the channel, no matter the screen, the feed did not change.
Then Ethan spoke.
His face filled every display, his voice pouring from every speaker at once.
"Attention all Ninth Division operatives, and all task force personnel from the Noble Eight Lineages. A new directive is now in effect. Regarding all mbers of the supernatural community who have unlawfully occupied civilian residences: implent Execution Order Alpha. Whether harm has been done or not, lethal force is authorized on sight. Imdiate termination."
He paused, letting the words sink in, cold and absolute.
"Harbor City has been cleansed. Total eliminated: thirteen thousand, eight hundred and seventy-two. Energy Users, Mutants, and allied foreign combatants."
A slow, brutal smile curved his lips.
"And to the rest of you parasites still hiding in other people’s hos, you might not know . But you’ve heard of the Ninth Division. You’ve heard of the forr Director, Vaughn."
The smile vanished, replaced by sothing sharp and rciless.
"That old bastard? I put him in the ground. My na is Ethan Caelum."
He leaned closer to the unseen cara, his gaze piercing through the screen.
"Maybe you doubt my word. Maybe you think this is a bluff."
The feed cut abruptly.
What replaced it was reality.
A towering mound of severed heads, blood-slicked and grotesque, filled the screen. The cara moved slowly, panning across the pile, lingering on faces frozen in agony, shock, and absolute despair. There was no room for denial, no space for doubt. The proof was unmistakable, broadcast into every occupied ho, every seized stronghold, and every place the invaders thought themselves safe.
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