Aurelon City –
Aurelon City rises like a jewel of the future, glowing in hues of neon pink, electric violet, and soft sunset gold. Towering skyscrapers of glass and obsidian stretch into the sky, their surfaces reflecting the swirling pastel clouds above. Each building has sleek, aerodynamic shapes — spires tapering upwards, curved facades, and luminous trims that pulse with energy.
Dozens of elevated skyways loop around the city at multiple levels, forming intricate highways suspended in the air. Sleek hovercraft glide along these lanes like metallic arrows, their undercarriages glowing. Some float silently; others streak past, leaving trails of holographic light.
Platforms and pedestrian bridges link the mega-structures at impossible heights, packed with citizens moving between districts. Below, the streets are dense with life — marketplaces, neon billboards, shifting holograms, and rivers of traffic winding through illuminated urban canyons.
The core district glows the brightest: swirling crowds, intense nightlife, and a massive circular atrium filled with pink and purple lights, almost like a futuristic festival hub.
Aurelon feels alive — a vertical megacity layered with technology, energy, and movement. It's both beautiful and overwhelming.
Apex HQ — Royalty's Empire
Above it all, a single monolith of steel and glass rose into the starry sky with gradient of glaccuous blue and purple, it's sharp edges reflecting the artificial glow of Aurelon .
Apex industries – The name alone carried weight, in the same breath as power and fear .
This was Royalty Lysander Neville Empire, a fortress built on ambition and secrets.
At the top of the tower, the man himself watched.
Lysander's Observation Deck:
The observation deck of Apex HQ was silent, save for the faint hum of holographic displays.
Royalty stood at the edge of the room, his hands clasped loosely behind his back; His medium length wavy black hair, falls around his face in a slightly tousled manner, he wears thin gold rimmed glasses adding a sophisticated touch to his looks..his dark and stylish outfits tailored to perfection , exuding an air of authority and elegance..his black long coat, sleek and lined with subtle metallic silver accents, billowed dramatically in the wind — A visual testament to his untouchable presence..
Beneath it, he wore sharp fitted layers in deep shades — charcoal, obsidian and hints of silver paired with matching black trousers—
Creating a look both timeless and futuristic. Every detail from the high collar to high polished boots , was deliberate , designed to command attention without ever trying .
The city stretched out before him, a glittering labyrinth of greed, ambition, and despair. From this height, it looked almost beautiful. Almost.
His reflection stared back at him from the glass— face sharply sculpted; a clean jawline and high cheekbones, piercing glaccuous blue eyes, and the faintest shadow of a smirk that never quite reached his lips. Power suited him, but it was a heavy mantle, one he wore with calculated ease. He tilted his head slightly, watching as a red marker blinked to life on the holographic map beside him. Another Catalyst Corrupt incident. Another reminder of humanity's flaws.
"Incident in Sector 14," a crisp, modulated voice announced. The drone beside him—a sleek silver model named *Kite*—hovered closer, its single glowing eye fixed on him. "Minimal casualties. Catalyst containment protocols initiated."
"Minimal isn't good enough," Lysander said, his voice low and even, yet carrying the weight of command. "Send a team to neutralize it. Quietly."
Kite hesitated for a fraction of a second, its processors calculating. "Omega Division has already deployed Reapers to the site. Shall I—"
"Let them handle it," Lysander interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut. "For now."
The drone dipped in acknowledgment, retreating to its station. Lysander's eyes lingered on the pulsing red marker, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. The Catalyst Corrupt were spreading faster than expected, feeding on the city's desires like parasites. And the Omega Division, for all their self-righteousness, was only treating the symptoms. They didn't understand the disease. Not like he did.
---
The Apex Lobby
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the grand lobby of Apex HQ. It was a cathedral of technology, every surface polished to perfection, every detail meticulously designed. Kinetic art sculptures floated midair, shifting shapes in a hypnotic dance of light and color. The floor gleamed like black ice, reflecting the holographic displays that projected Apex's latest advancements.
Employees moved with precision, their steps silent on the obsidian tiles. They wore sleek, minimalist uniforms in shades of gray and silver, their faces calm but focused. Autonomous drones zipped through the air, delivering packages, scanning visitors, and correcting minor flaws before they could become noticeable.
A soft hum drew Royalty's attention. Near the reception desk, a delivery drone hovered awkwardly, its arm holding a package that didn't match its assigned recipient. The receptionist, a young woman with silver implants tracing her cheekbones, looked flustered as she tried to override the drone's protocol.
"Incorrect recipient," the drone repeated, its tone flat. "Delivery protocol compromised."
Royalty's steps echoed faintly as he approached. The receptionist froze, her eyes widening as she recognized him. "Mr. Neville, I—"
"Override it," he said, his tone calm but final. The receptionist nodded quickly, her fingers flying over the controls. Within seconds, the drone corrected its course and zipped away, the crisis resolved before it could escalate.
Royalty didn't linger. He never did. His presence was enough to restore order, to remind everyone who truly controlled this tower—and the city beyond it.
Royalty's Office:
The doors to Lysander's office slid open soundlessly, revealing a space that was both minimalist and imposing. The walls were lined with holographic displays, each one showing a different corner of Aurelon City. Catalyst activity reports. Market movements. Omega Division surveillance logs. It was all there, spinning in a constant stream of data.
At the center of the room, a three-dimensional map of the city hovered above a sleek black console. Tiny red markers pulsed across the map, each one representing a Catalyst Corrupt incident. They spread like drops of blood on a pristine canvas, a reminder of the city's sickness.
Royalty approached the console, his glaccuous blue eyes scanning the data with precision. He didn't need to touch the controls; the system responded to his voice, his presence. "Filter by severity," he said, and the map shifted, highlighting the most dangerous zones in crimson.
A soft chime broke the silence. Kite hovered into the room, its glowing eye fixed on him. "Sir, Omega Division has requested a meeting," it said. "They wish to discuss the recent incident in Sector 14."
Royalty didn't look up. "Tell them I'll meet them when I'm ready," he said, his tone dismissive. "Not before."
Kite hesitated. "Understood, sir." It paused, as though considering its next words. "There is… one more matter. The Reaper involved in the Sector 14 incident. Amaya Caldwell. She—"
" I know —" Royalty cuts her off mid sentence.
He turned away from the console, his expression unreadable.
Royalty's gaze returned to the city beyond the glass. From this height, it looked peaceful, almost serene. But he knew the truth. The Catalyst Corrupt weren't the real threat. They were just the symptom. The disease was deeper, buried in the hearts of humanity itself.