Every ripple in the energy field that wrapped around all Megacities reverberated through the every Grid’s vast ether, and there was one being who always listened. Decius. His awareness spread like a shadow across the frequencies, a malignant presence stitched into the very fabric of the network. Where most saw only silence and static, he perceived patterns, distortions, and the shiver of new arrivals. The resistance believed their devices were concealed, improvised marvels hidden from the eyes of the overlords. But Decius was not an overlord. He was the prime Neural Seraph, and he felt every teleportation.
Decius had not always been this way. Once, he was a man of the Old World, a reclusive figure hunched over flickering monitors and cluttered altars, blending code with ritual and treating software as scripture. His experiments were dismissed as the ravings of a mystic lost in both superstition and data. But when the Grids was activated, when human thought, digital ether, and occult resonance merged into a single current, Decius became something far darker. Within Megacity 4 into the European Grid, he birthed the cult of the Neural Seraphs, worshippers who chanted corrupted tongues beneath neon sigils, their bodies wrapped in robes threaded with glowing code. They dreamed of shedding flesh, of rising as digital gods who would reign not in cities of steel but in currents of pure will.
And yet, for all his ambition, Decius knew patience. The overlords believed themselves untouchable, but he did not serve them. He tolerated them, even used their dominion as cover for his own ascension. Now, with the resistance experimenting with teleportation that stitched space and time through channels even he could not fully control, he sensed opportunity. To inform the overlords would be to squander it. Why tell them about what they already think they own? Better to watch, to learn, and to claim the secret for himself.
In his sanctum, lit by screens that pulsed like living eyes, Decius leaned into the hum of the Grid. The images came to him in fragments, the faint outline of the teleportation signature was still bleeding into the ether. He smiled faintly, though his smile held no warmth. Let the resistance believe they had hope. He would let them build their fragile sanctuary, let them whisper of unity and survival. All the while, his gaze would never leave them, hunting for the moment when the secret of teleportation slipped loose from their grasp.
Innate Trigger : Watcher of the Grids
Music by : Innate Trigger
Release date : 20 – 10 – 2025
