The trigger event occurred precisely twenty-four hours after the chip's deployment.
Cassian Kaelen, arrogant and bored, initiated a massive, leveraged trade - a seven-figure gamble on an emerging tech bond. The moment his proprietary trading interface connected to the core, Thorne's malware activated.
It did not steal the money. It did something far more insidious: it began to systematically expose the weaknesses Cassian had carefully hidden. The code mimicked a deep, cascading internal error, revealing every unsecured lien, every poorly collateralized trade, and every instance of borderline illegal margin activity across Cassian's twenty-two scattered accounts.
Cassian was in his private study, sipping imported tea, when the screens around him began to flash crimson warnings. He watched, horrified, as his digital empire dissolved in real-time. His primary financial partner flagged the systemic failure and initiated a forced liquidation of all positions to stabilize the market.
Within three minutes, Cassian Kaelen's wealth - the foundation of his entitlement - was gone. His credit rating collapsed. His digital identity was flagged for "systemic instability and gross misconduct." He was ruined, entirely self-inflicted in the eyes of the market.
Valen Kaelen, alerted by the emergency breach protocols, stormed into the study. He took one look at the flashing red screens and the terrified, white face of his son, and understood immediately the gravity of the disaster.
"It wasn't an attack, Father!" Cassian stammered, gripping the desk edge. "It was an internal fault! A collapse! I - I don't know how the system failed!"
"Silence!" Valen roared, the sound echoing off the ornate wood paneling. He bypassed the screaming financial warnings and went straight to the political calculus. A primary Kaelen heir ruined by spectacular greed was not just a financial loss; it was a political liability that signaled weakness.
Valen looked at his son, not with pity, but with savage calculation. "You are toxic, Cassian. You are a vulnerability. You will not stay here to compromise the rest of the dynasty."
He called his chief counsel, ignoring Cassian's desperate pleas. The decision was swift and ruthless: Cassian was to be immediately stripped of all Kaelen privileges and assets, given a small maintenance stipend, and exiled to the remote, neutral, agri-colonies in the South. The official narrative would state that Cassian had chosen "a life of service and humility," a brutal cover story for banishment.
Valen Kaelen had sacrificed his own son to protect the structural integrity of the Kaelen name. The heir was erased - not dead, but silenced, permanently removed from the capital's consciousness.
Later that evening, Commander Joric Tahl was assigned to process the official paperwork detailing Cassian's "voluntary departure."
He sat in his office, reading the cold, bureaucratic language of the banishment order. Voluntary removal of political liability. Joric had seen many forms of Kaelen ruthlessness, but the speed and finality with which Valen disposed of his own blood was shocking.
The initial financial anomaly report Joric had dismissed—the "Veridia, Archivist" access—flashed across his mind. A mere twenty-four hours after that odd, silent woman had left the data center, the heir collapsed.
A coincidence, Commander, he told himself, signing the document that finalized Cassian's exile. He was paid to clean up the Kaelens' messes, not question the invisible architects of their misfortune.
But as he filed the document, a thread of doubt remained. The elegance of the destruction was too refined, too complete, to be mere chance. The first stroke of the erasure had been successful, and the man tasked with being the Kaelen shield felt a prickle of unease - the sense that something far more intelligent than a failed son was operating in the shadows of the city.