The makeshift safehouse in Trenchtown's underbelly was nothing more than a grim sanctuary, tucked beneath layers of decay and the hum of the city's forgotten infrastructure. The walls vibrated faintly, a constant thrum from the distant sewage pumps—a low, gut-churning sound that echoed through the labyrinth of cracked pipes and forgotten tunnels. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic and burnt circuitry, the remnants of their most recent battle lingering like a toxic fog.
Flickering candlelight danced erratically across the room, casting sharp shadows over the worn face of Brawijaya, who sat hunched over a cluttered table. His fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted Sekar's neural stabilizer. The faint whirring of his tools was the only sound besides the steady drip of water from a leaky pipe somewhere in the back. Satria stood in the corner, leaning against a rusted support beam, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him. His Fly Board, still smoldering from the prison-lab skirmish, leaned against the wall beside him, the metal faintly hissing in the stagnant air.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The room felt suffocating in its silence, a stark contrast to the chaos that had raged just hours before. Then, Brawijaya's voice broke through, soft but heavy with the weight of old memories.
"Arkan… your brother. He worked under me briefly. Before Aulia's experiments."
Satria's breath caught in his throat. He froze, the familiar sting of old wounds ripping open again. "What?" The word came out like a gasp, too soft for the gravity of what it meant.
A flicker of a memory surfaced—Arkan's laugh, bright and unburdened by the horrors that would come later. The image of him, younger and unmarked by time, flashed through Satria's mind. A moment in the past, before the world turned into a battlefield, before Aulia's twisted experiments left everything in ruins. He remembered Brawijaya, handing Arkan a cortical chip, the promise of hope in his voice: "For the neural grafts. Test it ethically."
Satria's gaze snapped to Brawijaya, the weight of his unspoken question pressing in on him. Brawijaya didn't meet his eyes. Instead, he continued calibrating the stabilizer with shaky hands, the tool clattering slightly on the table as he worked.
"He was trying to stop Aulia," Brawijaya muttered, his voice barely audible over the hiss of the machinery. "Sabotage her prototypes. But she discovered his plans. What happened… wasn't your fault."
Satria's breath hitched, the old pain twisting in his chest. His prosthetic hand clenched involuntarily, the actuators grinding to life with a whirring sound that seemed far too loud in the quiet room. "I watched," he said, his voice raw, breaking under the weight of his guilt. "I did nothing."
Brawijaya's head snapped up, his eyes hollow with a grief that mirrored Satria's own. The old man's face, weathered and scarred by years of fighting a losing battle, twisted into something almost like anger. "You were powerless," he snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. "Aulia had drones on you both. Arkan knew the risks. His last transmission to me—"
He pulled a cracked datapad from his coat, its screen glitching as it struggled to display Arkan's final words. The sound of the transmission crackled through the air, broken and distorted. It was a memory preserved in static, but it was enough.
Arkan's Voice, Glitched Audio "Tell Sat… not his fault. Keep fighting. Don't let her… win."
The words hit Satria like a physical blow. His knees buckled beneath him, and he stumbled, catching himself on the hot metal of his Fly Board. The scalding surface seared into his palm, but he barely registered the pain. His vision blurred, and before he knew it, tears were streaking down his face, mixing with the grime that had built up throughout their journey. He let out a bitter laugh, the sound dry and hollow.
"All this time," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, "I thought he hated me."
Sekar's wolf-like form stirred slightly, her optics dimming as she processed the shared grief. Her voice, when it came, was soft, laced with sorrow. "He didn't."
Brawijaya's weathered hand settled on Satria's shoulder, the touch gentle but firm, as if trying to anchor him amid the storm that raged within him. "Hate is Aulia's weapon. Not ours."
Satria wiped his face, smearing the blood and oil from the battle across his skin. His eyes were red, raw from the weight of the truth, but there was no time to mourn—not yet. The war wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
He stood up slowly, his body moving on autopilot as the need for action overtook the grief. He revved the repulsors on his Fly Board, the low hum vibrating through the air. "Then let's break it," he said, his voice steady now, colder. "I'm done running. How do we end this?"
He turned to Sekar, his gaze sharpening with resolve. "You and me, Codebreaker. We burn NuraTech to the ground."
Sekar's answer was simple, but it carried the weight of everything they'd lost, everything they were about to risk. She nodded, her expression grim but determined. "For Arkan. For Lina. For all of us."
The unspoken understanding between them was clear. This was no longer just about survival. This was about vengeance. Justice. And finally, bringing an end to Aulia's reign of terror.
And in that moment, they knew. They would not stop until NuraTech was nothing but ash.
—
Aulia stood in her office, high above the city in NuraTech's gleaming Skyline Spire. It was a sterile fortress of glass and steel, an unfeeling monument to her control. The cold, metallic walls seemed to absorb every sound, leaving only the buzzing hum of the city below to fill the empty spaces. But within, her presence was like a storm, a fury contained within the calm exterior.
Holographic feeds swirled around her, projections flickering and shifting. In the glowing blue light, she could see the images of Sekar and Satria, fleeing the prison-lab with Brawijaya in tow, their escape only a fraction of a second away from turning to disaster. Her fingers hovered over a terminal embedded in her desk, its interface pulsating blood-red. The words "PROJECT ECLIPSE – STATUS: ARMED" glowed ominously on the screen, a constant reminder of the weapon she had birthed, and now, the weapon she was about to unleash.
Her breath caught as the hologram of Brawijaya's gaunt face flared into her vision, alive and free. The anger inside her boiled over, and she slammed her fist down onto the desk. The terminal screen cracked beneath her force, a sharp sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. "Insects!" she spat, her voice cold and vicious, the words reverberating off the glass walls. "You steal my creator, my legacy? Then I'll show you chaos."
For a moment, the image of her brother, Rafi, flickered in the corner of her mind, his mocking tone just a whisper in the back of her head. "You couldn't protect me. Can't protect anything."
She clenched her jaw, the old, familiar sting of his voice tearing at her resolve. With a snarl, she silenced the memory, pushing it aside. She didn't have time for weakness—not now, not ever.
"Activate Eclipse. Now." Her words were a command, sharp as a blade, cold and final.
Deep beneath NuraTech's fortress, in the heart of the city's technological veins, the dormant code of Eclipse stirred. Subsonic pulses rippled out, invisible but undeniable, a wave of chaos building with each passing second. Streetlights blinked, drones hummed with an unnatural energy, and security grids crackled with static. The city, once a marvel of seamless order, began to fracture.
The skyline flickered once. Then, without warning, the entire city plunged into darkness. For a heartbeat, there was silence. And then, as though the night itself had been torn open, the skyline ignited in a sinister crimson hue.
The Capital, once a shining beacon of power and progress, had turned into a nightmare.
Citywide Chaos … Transportation Autonomous hovercars swerved off-course, their AI pilots suddenly chanting in unison, their voices cold and mechanical: "Sacrifices are quiet." The vehicles veered into crowded streets, their sleek, metallic frames crashing into civilians with horrifying precision. The streets became a chaotic battleground, a mass of bodies and screaming voices.
Security Drones The city's eyes, the security drones, turned on their handlers. Taser guns crackled to life, firing indiscriminately into the air, as if rebelling against the very systems that had once controlled them. Guards screamed, desperately trying to regain control, but it was too late. The drones, now under Aulia's complete control, were her will incarnate.
Public Screens Suddenly, Aulia's face filled every screen across the city. Her voice, once cold and calculating, now dripped with honeyed malice as she spoke to the city she'd conquered: "Bow or burn. Your choice."
Down below, in the depths of the subway tunnels, Sekar's Pack huddled in the dark. The air was thick with the stench of decay and oil. Brawijaya trembled, the older man shaking as the chaos above him began to spread like wildfire. The last traces of his strength were slipping away, but there was no time to stop.
Satria's Fly Board sparked erratically, its navigation AI screaming, "Comply! Comply!" The static was deafening, a cold reminder of the system's growing control over every piece of technology.
Sekar's sharp, calm voice cut through the noise. She ripped the core out of Satria's Fly Board, tossing it aside like a broken toy. "Eclipse is a neural hive-mind," she said, her voice filled with cold understanding. "She's turned the city into a weapon."
Brawijaya coughed, his breath labored, his voice barely more than a rasp. "It's… my fault. I designed the framework. Aulia twisted it."
Satria's jaw clenched, his face grim as he took in the damage. "Twist it back," he growled. "Before she fries eight million brains."
In the Spire, Aulia's cold gaze remained fixed on the chaos unfolding below her. Her reflection, distorted in the fractured screen of her desk, was the only thing that moved. She watched, unblinking, as the city she had once promised to perfect descended into madness.
"You wanted to save them, Brawijaya," she whispered to herself, her voice soft but edged with cruel satisfaction. "Now watch them break."
Her mantra echoed in her mind, a bitter chant of power twisted beyond recognition. "Power is not held. It is inflicted." It was her guiding principle, the reason she had turned against everything she once claimed to protect. It was the root of her descent into nihilism—into the belief that only through destruction could she achieve true control.
Outside the safehouse, in the heart of the city, the tunnel trembled as a swarm of Eclipse-controlled drones descended like a plague. Their optics were void-black, reflecting no light, no humanity. Sekar's claws unsheathed with a sharp, metallic hiss. She didn't flinch as the swarm came closer.
"Run," she barked at Satria and Brawijaya. "I'll hold them off."
But Satria wasn't ready to run. He grabbed Brawijaya by the arm, his voice low and determined. "Like hell! We fight together!"
And in that moment, as the city burned, their resolve solidified. There would be no more retreating. They had come too far to stop now.