The screens flickered to life, revealing Vanessa Lorne, the seasoned anchor of Edenia Prime News. Dressed in a sharp navy blazer, she sat upright, her expression tense but composed. Behind her, a digital map of Edenia pulsed in crimson, highlighting the affected regions.
"Good night, Edenia. This is Vanessa Lorne, reporting live on the unprecedented crisis unfolding across the continent. A total blackout in Jinhwa—the Lotus City—has plunged nearly a third of Edenia into darkness, sending shockwaves through major urban and industrial centers."
The screen shifted to a sweeping aerial view of Jinhwa, its skyline normally illuminated by a mesmerizing blend of neon and traditional lanterns. Now, only flickering emergency lights dotted the vast metropolis, casting eerie shadows over its once-bustling streets. The Hanwol River, which had long been the city's lifeblood, now reflected only darkness.
"Jinhwa, a thriving metropolis known for seamlessly blending tradition with cutting-edge technology, is home to the Hanwol Power Complex—an energy hub responsible for supplying power to a vast network of cities. As of this hour, we can confirm that the failure of the Hanwol Plant has triggered rolling blackouts in multiple regions, paralyzing essential infrastructure."
The map zoomed in, highlighting the affected cities in glowing red markers.
Aeryndale – A high-tech commerce hub, known for its towering spires and automated industries, now eerily silent as AI systems and power grids flicker offline. Reports indicate massive disruptions in financial districts, leaving millions of transactions frozen.
Velmont – The coastal city famous for its shipyards and energy research centers has seen its ports grind to a halt. Communication lines are unstable, and emergency responders are struggling to navigate the dimly lit streets.
Dazara – A city built around biotech and medical research, now facing critical failures in hospitals and laboratory facilities. Backup generators are struggling to sustain life-support systems, prompting urgent evacuations.
Kyesong – A historic stronghold of Edenian culture, where even the grand pagodas and cyber-temples now sit in unnatural darkness. The once-thriving night markets have collapsed into chaos, with reports of looting already emerging.
Ironreach – A massive industrial zone responsible for weapons manufacturing and heavy machinery, now forced to shut down. With security systems failing, reports suggest possible breaches in restricted facilities.
"Authorities are scrambling for answers, but as of now, no official statement has been made regarding the cause of the blackout. Speculation ranges from system failures to sabotage, though no group has claimed responsibility. What we do know is that millions are without power, and the consequences are only beginning to unfold."
The feed cut to a brief montage—emergency workers guiding civilians through pitch-black streets, traffic lights malfunctioning and causing gridlock, neon billboards flickering out mid-broadcast. A moment later, Vanessa reappeared on screen.
"This is an evolving situation, and we will continue to bring you updates as they come. Stay tuned, and stay safe, Edenia. This is Vanessa Lorne for Edenia Prime News, signing off."
The dim glow of multiple holographic screens cast long shadows across the high-tech war room. A massive Edenia Prime News broadcast played at the center, showing the chaotic aftermath of the Jinhwa Blackout. Vanessa Lorne's voice echoed in the vast chamber, detailing the cascading failures across the continent. The footage of darkened cities, stalled industries, and panicked civilians painted a grim reality.
Commander Silas sat stiffly in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. His piercing gaze never left the screen, but his mind was already racing ahead. This wasn't just a random power failure. This was calculated. Deliberate. And he knew exactly who was behind it.
A sharp ping signaled an incoming high-priority transmission. The central holographic table flickered, then projected six faceless silhouettes—the 0-6 Council, the highest authority within the Capitol Patrol Guard (CPG). Their voices, distorted and devoid of emotion, filled the chamber. "Commander."
Silas exhaled slowly, bracing himself. "Councils."
"Deploy the Sentinels. Effective immediately."
Silas's expression hardened. His jaw clenched, he hesitated. "With all due respect," he said, voice sharp but measured, "sending Sentinels into Edenian cities will only enrage the population. The people are already on edge after the new enforcement protocols. If we roll out war machines, it won't just be outrage—"
"It will be war regardless." The Council's voice cut through like a blade. "The civil war has already begun, Commander."
Silas stiffened. He had spent decades enforcing the law, crushing rebellions before they could spark into flames. But this—this was different. "You're telling me an armed uprising is already underway?" he asked, though deep down, he knew the answer.
"Not an uprising," the Council corrected. "A mutant offensive."
The screen shifted, revealing classified satellite footage. Cities in chaos. Explosions. Raids. Coordinated attacks on power grids and supply chains. It wasn't just Jinhwa. Other cities were already being hit. This wasn't a protest. This was warfare.
Silas exhaled sharply, his fingers curling into a fist. He had suspected, but now there was no doubt. Vaelith's declaration was not just a threat. It was a promise.
He looked at the faceless Council members, his mind racing. Deploying Sentinels meant bringing out the most advanced anti-mutant war machines Edenia had ever produced. It meant moving from containment to extermination.
"If we send the Sentinels now," Silas said, voice edged with warning, "there's no turning back. This will escalate beyond control. We're talking mass casualties on both sides. Do you understand what you're asking?"
A brief silence. Then—"We understand."
He slowly pushed himself up from his seat, his face unreadable, "Then I'll make the call."
The transmission ended, leaving only the cold hum of the holographic screens. Silas stood there for a long moment, staring at the blinking lights of the Sentinel activation system.
The Lotus City still drowning in darkness. Vaelith stood at the heart of it all, his long coat billowing as he gazed at the towering machinery that once powered a third of Edenia. The Brotherhood had secured the plant with surgical precision. Security forces had been neutralized, the main control center locked down, and now—they waited.
Magnar leaned against a twisted metal beam, idly spinning a chunk of steel in his palm, shaping it like clay. "Still no response?" he mused. "I expected more fight from the mighty CPG."
Razhaan, still in his half-dragon form, exhaled a thin trail of smoke. "They're not sending patrols." His reptilian eyes flicked toward Vaelith. "They're sending something bigger."
As if on cue—the sky split apart. High above Jinhwa, the Sentinel Protocol was fully unleashed. From the massive aerial transport hovering over the city, mechanized titans rained down from the heavens. Boom. Boom. BOOM.
Each impact sent shockwaves through the ruined streets as Sentinels landed in formation—monolithic war machines, towering three stories tall, crafted for one purpose: mutant annihilation.
The Sentinels' optic sensors blazed red, scanning the power plant, locking onto every mutant signature. Their metallic bodies hummed with untold weaponry—plasma cannons, suppression fields, anti-mutation dampeners.
From the CPG headquarters, Commander Silas Vaelor watched through satellite feeds, his expression unreadable. His hand hovered over the direct override system, ready to escalate further if needed.
"Final warning," the Sentinels announced in unison, their synthesized voices booming across the battlefield. "Surrender immediately, or face termination."
For a long moment, silence. Then—Vaelith laughed. It wasn't fear. It wasn't hesitation. It was exhilaration. He turned to the Brotherhood. "Well then… shall we?"
Magnar flexed his fingers, metal ripping from the ground and shaping into jagged, floating blades. Malak's demonic wings unfurled, his body radiating a heat that warped the air itself. Razhaan grinned as scales hardened, his claws extending, wings flexing.
The Sentinels moved with terrifying precision, their massive frames unfazed by the destruction around them. Their plasma cannons charged, targeting the mutants with cold, mechanical efficiency.
The lead Sentinel—a Prime-Class Exterminator—locked onto Vaelith, its red optics flashing as it unleashed an anti-psionic wave. But Vaelith was already gone.
A blur of movement, a whisper of shadow—he reappeared atop a broken catwalk, eyes gleaming. The telepathic suppression field crackled, suffocating any mutant with mind-based abilities.
"Impressive," Vaelith murmured, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see how far you push before you break."
The Prime Sentinel fired a barrage of ion blasts, but Vaelith warped through space itself, shifting in and out of sight like a phantom. He appeared behind the machine, palm raised—a pulse of raw telekinetic energy slammed into its back, denting its armor.
The Sentinel twisted unnaturally, a spinning blade extending from its arm, slashing. Vaelith dodged by a hair, flipping backward. The blade grazed his coat—but not his skin. He grinned. He drove his fingers forward— and the Sentinel froze.
For a moment, it resisted his will. But Vaelith's power was beyond mental— he didn't just invade minds, he dominated them.
The second Sentinel, codenamed 'Steel Reaper,' was designed for adaptive combat, its exterior layered with self-repairing alloys. Its arms shifted seamlessly into massive rotary cannons, sending a relentless storm of tungsten rounds toward Magnar.
Magnar didn't move. He didn't need to. The bullets stopped mid-air. Then—they reversed. With a flick of his wrist, Magnar sent every round flying back at the Sentinel, denting its armored chassis. The machine adapted, its arms shifting into vibro-blades, each capable of slicing through reinforced steel. The Sentinel lunged.
Magnar smirked. "Bad idea." The very ground beneath them twisted.Metal pillars erupted, warping around the Sentinel like a monstrous serpent. The machine struggled, but Magnar clenched his fist—and the metal crushed inward.
Then, third Sentinel, a Titan-Class unit, stood over twenty feet tall, built to engage heavy-duty threats.Its core burned with concentrated plasma, arms equipped with energy disruptors capable of dissolving molecular bonds.
Razhaan took the hit head-on. The plasma blast struck his chest—and barely left a mark. Smoke curled from his scales as he lifted his head, golden eyes blazing.
The Titan Sentinel charged, seismic tremors rippling through the battlefield. Its twin plasma cannons glowed white-hot, unleashing a wave of energy.
Razhaan spread his wings and took to the air in a single, thunderous beat. The moment he was above the Sentinel, he dived.
His claws tore through the machine's shoulder plating, ripping out components in a single swipe. The Sentinel countered, deploying kinetic hammers from its arms. A blow slammed into Razhaan's ribs, sending him crashing into a wrecked tower.
For a moment, silence. Then, a furious roar. Razhaan burst from the debris, his form fully shifting. His wings spread wide, his tail whipping through steel supports like paper.
The Titan Sentinel recalibrated— but too late. Razhaan's jaws clamped down on its plasma core. And ripped it out.
Malak's opponent moved unlike the others. Sleeker. Faster. The Executioner-Class Sentinel was built for precision combat—a fusion of cybernetics and cutting-edge AI, capable of predicting enemy attacks before they happened.
Malak flexed his fingers. The air around him shimmered with heat, his Cambion blood boiling as he prepared. The Sentinel struck first. It blinked forward, a mono-edged sword slicing through the air toward Malak's throat.
He leaned back just enough for the blade to miss by inches, then countered—a burst of infernal energy surging from his palm. The Sentinel dodged mid-strike, twisting in midair and slashing again.
Malak caught the blade between his claws. The Sentinel tried to pull back—but he wouldn't let go. His grip tightened—and fire exploded outward, melting through the sword. The Sentinel recoiled, recalculating. Malak smirked."Not fast enough."
In an instant, he vanished in a blur of black flame—and reappeared behind the Sentinel. His hand plunged into its core, crushing its power unit.
The Brotherhood gathered amidst the wreckage, victorious. Smoke curled from the ruined Sentinels, their metal husks torn apart, circuits flickering as they faded into lifeless scrap.
They had won. Or so they thought. But hen—the fallen Sentinels moved. Not just repaired. Reborn. Their shattered bodies shifted, twisted, evolved. The self-repairing alloys morphed, reshaped, adapted. Plasma cores reignited. Limbs regenerated with blackened, fluid metal, pulsing like living organisms.
The Prime Sentinel's optics gleamed, its defenses now fully immune to his power. The very fabric of its mind had adapted, warping into an unbreakable void that swallowed his telepathic reach.
No thoughts. No will. Nothing. Vaelith panicked. Then, the Sentinel blinked behind him. A metallic tendril lashed out, wrapping around his skull—and pulsed.
Pain. Pure, searing agony. His thoughts fractured, his vision flickered, and his body collapsed, convulsing under the Sentinel's grip. His gift—his power—was being turned against him.
Magnar threw out his hands, commanding the metal battlefield to shift—but the Steel Reaper was faster.
Its body rippled, becoming pure liquid metal, slipping through his grasp. Before he could react, the Sentinel wrapped around him. Like a living iron coffin.
Magnar struggled, gasped— but the liquid alloy solidified, encasing him in a prison of his own element. His screams were muffled. Then, silence.
Razhaan let out a deafening roar, wings spread wide. He launched forward, claws gleaming—And the Titan Sentinel mirrored him.
Its arms split apart, forming razor-like wings of its own, thrusters igniting with draconic ferocity. Razhaan swung—but the Sentinel matched him. Every movement, every strike, perfectly countered. Its new form was built to hunt dragons. Then—a harpoon of crackling energy shot from its chest.
It pierced through Razhaan's shoulder, embedding deep. His roar became a choked snarl as a surge of power drained him, stealing the very essence of his fire.
His wings failed. He fell. The Sentinel descended with him, claws stretching into a massive, crushing vice. The last thing Razhaan saw was metal jaws closing around him.
Malak burned with infernal energy, his Cambion blood blazing like a living furnace. But the Executioner had learned. It shifted. Its armor glowed, morphing into divine platinum, an alloy laced with holy energy.
The air around Malak grew colder. His fire flickered. Then, the Sentinel stepped forward, radiating an aura of pure sanctity. The flames on Malak's hands snuffed out.
The Sentinel drove a spear through his chest. Malak collapsed, gasping as his own demonic blood boiled away, burned from his veins.
One by one, they fell. The cries of battle turned to screams. Metal restraints clamped around wrists. Sedative injectors plunged into veins.
In the dimly lit control room of the CPG, Silas watched the live feed as the Brotherhood fell. He leaned forward, eyes narrowing as the Sentinels secured their captives.
A slow smile crept across his lips. He whispered, almost amused. "You will be the finest CPG assets."