The next morning, the sky over Varros Prime was a pale, hazy orange. The usual stream of air traffic was suddenly disrupted as people pointed, their vehicles slowing to a hover. A man was walking on nothing, high above the city, his boots meeting empty air with solid, unhurried steps. He moved with the casual purpose of someone crossing a quiet street.

Below, on the crowded walkways, a hush fell, followed by a wave of murmurs.

"Who is that?" a scaled Tarkesian vendor asked, dropping a crate of fruit.

"He's breaking every flight law on the planet!" a human dockworker gasped, staring up.

"But... he's not using a grav-pack. He's just... walking."

They watched, a mix of fear and awe on their faces, as Marc made his way toward the gleaming, needle-like spire of the Omni-Stellar headquarters. He was a dark speck against the vast sky, utterly unconcerned with the rules of the world beneath him.

By the time he reached the wide, polished plaza in front of the tower, a response was already waiting. Dozens of Varros Peacekeepers in sleek grey armor had formed a perimeter, their energy rifles raised. A loudspeaker voice boomed across the open space.

"Halt! You are in violation of civic code 7-Alpha! Land immediately and submit to detention!"

Marc ignored them. He landed softly in the center of the plaza, the sound of his boots touching the ground a quiet, final click. The Peacekeepers tightened their circle, fingers on triggers.

He didn't look at them. His eyes were fixed on the towering Omni-Stellar logo above the main entrance.

Then he spoke. His voice wasn't a shout, but it amplified, rolling over the plaza and the surrounding streets, deep and clear, as if he were standing next to everyone.

"Omni-Stellar," he began, and the city seemed to lean in to listen. "Let's talk about Karys-7."

He didn't move, his hands at his sides. But his voice carried the weight of an indictment.

"You authorized the use of illegal seismic charges. You knowingly destabilized the planetary core. You recorded the colony's distress calls and you erased them. You labeled the deaths of twelve hundred people, including scientists and children, as a 'geological anomaly' to protect your profit margin."

He listed the crimes Reia had dug up, each one a hammer blow. The Peacekeepers glanced at each other, uncertain. The crowd that had gathered behind the barriers was listening, their earlier fear turning into something else.

"You are liars. You are murderers. And according to the universal code you claim to uphold," Marc said, his tone flat and final, "you are due for extermination."

He raised his right hand, palm open.

The air above the plaza shimmered. From nothing, a colossal, translucent hand of pure force began to form. It was easily half the size of the skyscraper itself, every detail of its palm and fingers etched in shimmering energy. It blotted out the sun.

A collective gasp rose from the city. The Peacekeepers opened fire. Bolts of plasma streaked toward Marc, but they fizzled out inches from his body, vanishing into nothingness without a sound. He didn't even flinch.

He made a gentle, closing motion with his raised hand.

In the sky, the colossal hand mimicked the movement. It curled its fingers into a fist and drove it downward.

There was no explosion. There was only the sound of reality groaning under pressure. The fist of energy struck the top of the Omni-Stellar tower and pushed. The building didn't shatter; it compressed. Dozens of floors collapsed into one another like a stack of cards, glass, steel, and plasteel screaming as they were crushed into a growing ball of rubble. The fist pushed the wreckage down, down, through the lower levels and into the foundations, until the entire headquarters was simply gone, replaced by a flattened, smoldering crater.

Dust billowed out in a silent, expanding wave.

On the edges of the plaza, a few figures stumbled out of auxiliary exits or were thrown clear by the implosion. They were higher-level executives, their expensive suits now torn and covered in dust, their faces masks of pure, undiluted terror.

The Peacekeepers were frozen, their weapons hanging uselessly in their hands. One of them, a young officer with a shaking voice, yelled "Open fire! All units, fire!"

Marc sighed, a sound of profound annoyance. He looked at the squad for the first time. He didn't raise his hand. He just snapped his fingers.

The sound was crisp, clean.

In an instant, the fifty Peacekeepers and their armored vehicles didn't vanish. They transformed. Their bodies, their armor, their rifles—everything—dissolved into fine, pale sand. The sand cascaded to the ground in fifty neat piles, their shapes vaguely human for a moment before collapsing into formless dunes. The only thing that remained was the faint, ozone smell of rewritten physics.

The plaza was deathly quiet, save for the crackle of the distant fire and the whimpering of the surviving executives.

One of them, a woman with a gash on her forehead, stared at the man standing amid the destruction. "What... what are you?" she stammered, her voice breaking.

Marc turned his head, his eyes locking onto hers. There was no anger in them, no pride. Just a cold, absolute certainty.

"I'm Marc Black," he said, his voice no longer amplified, but carrying perfectly in the new silence. "Tell your boss I'm coming for them."

He didn't wait for a reply. He simply stepped up onto the air again and began to walk away, leaving behind a crater, piles of sand, and a city that would never forget the name he had given them. The message had been sent. The war was no longer about data or public opinion. It was personal.

Helios HQ

"They did it, they destroyed Omni-Steller and that without breaking a sweat," Renick said as he paced back and forth in his office, then he looked at Finn who was looking at the news feed, "They are dangerous than I thought, we have to do something."

"No you won't."

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