Incarceratus awoke to a quiet May morning.
The sky outside was a clear blue, sunlight spilling through the window and washing over the room. For a brief moment, everything felt normal—peaceful.
He sat up slowly, dark rings heavy beneath his eyes. Sleep had barely found him these past few nights. He reached for his phone out of habit. No messages. No alerts. Nothing urgent.
He exhaled—relieved.
He set it aside and stood, stretching until his joints made weird popping sounds.
In the kitchen, he poured himself a cup of coffee. Steam rose as he stepped onto the balcony, the warmth of the mug seeping into his hands. The weather was perfect. The birds in the distance chirped, a gentle breeze carried the scent of spring. With every sip, he felt a faint sense of renewal.
Despite everything that had happened, this was a moment of peace. A moment to breathe.
And yet, unease gnawed at him.
Stella had changed. She had thrown herself into a project that bordered on madness—building a city that could exist solely in the sky.
Jeanne, on the other hand, had withdrawn completely. He had tried visiting her, again and again, hoping to pull her from her grief. Each time, she turned him away.
He exhaled slowly.
Maybe I'm pushing too hard, he thought. She hasn't healed. Not from Filian.
He finished his coffee, staring out over the city.
A feeling settled in his chest like a weight.
This wasn't peace. It felt more like the calm before a storm.
Villages slaughtered. Children vanishing. Bodies left behind with the same grotesque wounds—gutted, twisted, broken. And not a single drop of blood.
The police had exhausted every lead. DNA, surveillance, informants. They had even gone so far as to dig through canalisation systems and underground routes.
Nothing.
Fear and mistrust spread faster than any official statement. Security was tightened near every city and village, yet the result never changed. The guards either disappeared… or joined the dead.
Incarceratus's phone rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. He returned inside and answered.
"Commander Incarceratus. Report to the nearest post immediately. We have uncovered clues related to the recent massacres."
***
He stormed into the post minutes later.
The atmosphere inside was tense. Voices were low and movements sharp. Several officers were already waiting.
"Commander," one of them said, gesturing. "Please come with me. The Major wants you to see this."
They entered a briefing room. A large screen dominated the far wall, displaying a sprawling map of the city's canalisation system—endless lines twisting and intersecting beneath the streets.
One section was circled with a red marker.
"Commander Incarceratus," the Major said. "Take a seat. We've received new directives from the acting general. You'll be leading this operation."
Incarceratus sat, eyes fixed on the screen.
The red mark highlighted a collapsed section of wall. It was jagged concrete that gave way to a tunnel that plunged deeper into the earth.
"This," the Major continued, "is our first tangible lead. Whoever has been abducting children and wiping out entire villages is using the underground. One can only imagine what kind of depraved individual would do this."
He outlined the plan: a squad equipped with live, head-mounted cameras would enter the tunnel, securing it section by section. Constant communication. No reckless advances. Zero casualties.
"This concludes the briefing," the Major said, standing. "Commander Incarceratus will take over from here."
He saluted and exited.
All eyes turned to Incarceratus.
He interlocked his fingers and closed his eyes for a brief moment, drawing in a slow breath. When he stood up, his expression was iron.
"You've all heard the plan," he said loud and clear. "We move now. No delays. Every second we waste could cost another life."
The room erupted into motion. He issued orders swiftly, assigning roles to each lieutenant. Notes were taken. Chairs scraped back. One by one, they filed out to prepare.
When the last command was given, Incarceratus loosened up and headed for the tech room.
***
The squad reached the tunnel entrance shortly after.
In the tech room, Incarceratus stood among operators and staff officers, eyes locked onto the live feeds streaming from the soldiers' helmets. Dark, narrow walls filled the screens. Moist stone. Flickering lights.
He leaned toward one of the operators.
"Sergeant. Patch me through."
"Yes, sir."
"Who's leading the squad?"
A voice crackled through the headset.
"Sir, this is Constable Armando."
"Armando," Incarceratus said firmly. "You are responsible for every person under your command. Your priority is their survival. We cannot afford more losses."
There was a brief pause.
"If communications fail," he continued, "you get them out. No heroics. Do you understand?"
"…Yes, sir," Armando replied. "If it comes down to it, I'll bring everyone back alive."
"Good," Incarceratus said. "Proceed. I expect good news."
He removed the headset and handed it back to the sergeant.
The screens continued to flicker, the squad descending deeper into the dark.
Incarceratus folded his arms.
"Now," he muttered, "we wait."