Chapter 118: Crimson Reckoning

A female newscaster adjusted her earpiece, her eyes fixed on the transparent display floating before her.

Her usually composed expression had become noticeably tense, the subtle urgency in her eyes betraying the gravity of the situation.

Behind her, a holographic map of Planet Roca displayed hundreds of thousands of pulsing red markers scattered across its planetary surface.

”Good evening, citizens of the Astral Dominion. We interrupt our regular programming to bring you an urgent security announcement.”

Her voice echoed through countless homes, corporate offices, academies, and public establishments across the Dominion.

”Twelve minutes ago, authorities confirmed that more than 350,000 locations across Planet Roca have been forcibly seized by an unidentified mercenary organization composed of Evolvers. The affected sectors include primary schools, hospitals, commercial hubs, and high-density civilian centers.”

The holographic map behind her zoomed in, revealing an alarming, suffocating density of red markers.

”According to preliminary reports, the attackers have taken hundreds of thousands of civilians hostage. Dominion enforcement units have been fully mobilized, and the planetary government has officially declared a state of emergency.”

She paused briefly, glancing toward a secondary feed as new intelligence surfaced.

”The Dominion government has released an official statement assuring citizens that all necessary measures are being taken to contain the threat. All residents on Planet Roca are strongly advised to remain indoors, avoid affected zones, and strictly adhere to instructions issued by local authorities.”

Her expression tightened further.

”At this time, the true identities and ultimate objectives of the perpetrators remain unknown. We will continue to provide updates as the situation develops.”

She turned directly toward the main camera feed. “Please remain calm and—”

KRRRRRZZZT!

The broadcast abruptly dissolved into violent static.

The newscaster’s face vanished, replaced by a field of black-and-white noise that flickered across the display. For several agonizing seconds, an abrasive electronic distortion filled the airwaves.

Then, the static died.

A symbol emerged against a pitch-black background.

It was a skull, but not an ordinary one.

The upper half was painted a deep, blood-red, its surface resembling dried blood beneath a layer of cracked obsidian.

The lower half was an oppressive, void-like black, so dark that its contours seemed to physically devour the surrounding light.

A second red streak ran vertically through its forehead, bisecting the eye sockets like a fresh, open wound.

Its eye sockets were completely hollow.

Yet, as the emblem slowly rotated, a faint, predatory crimson glow flickered within the void.

The image remained frozen for three long seconds.

Then, the skull’s jaw snapped open.

A heavily distorted, mechanical laugh erupted from the speakers.

Across the Astral Dominion, millions of people stopped dead in their tracks.

In residential districts, families turned toward their displays in stunned silence. In corporate towers, executives abandoned high-level negotiations as every screen in the building hijacked the same feed.

In academies, teachers stared in confusion while students whispered in rising panic.

On distant worlds across the Dominion, the exact same image materialized across public displays, personal communicators, transit terminals, and private holographic projections.

Everywhere, the broadcast was identical. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

Someone had hijacked the Dominion’s primary communication network and whoever it was wanted the entire civilization to watch.

The skull faded into darkness.

A figure appeared in its place.

The man sat in a dimly lit room, his body concealed beneath a heavy black coat. His face was obscured by a mask bearing the exact same red-and-black skull emblem, its hollow eye sockets glowing with a faint crimson light.

Behind him stood several indistinct figures, their imposing silhouettes barely visible against the shadows.

The masked man leaned forward.

Even through the digital distortion, there was something deeply unsettling about his presence. He didn’t fidget, glance around, or display a single hint of hesitation.

For several seconds, he simply let the silence linger.

Then, he spoke.

”Citizens of the Astral Dominion.”

His voice was deep, smooth, and heavily measured, carrying a cold menace that required no shouting to convey.

”You may be wondering who we are, why we have seized your communication networks, and why more than three hundred and fifty thousand locations on Planet Roca have fallen under our absolute control.”

He paused, letting the numbers sink into the minds of trillions.

”Those are reasonable questions.”

The masked man tilted his head slightly. “Unfortunately, you have spent far too long asking the wrong ones.”

”You have been told that your civilization is prosperous. That your government protects you. That the Astral Dominion represents absolute order, stability, and the triumph of civilization over chaos.”

His voice grew perceptibly colder.

”But tell me something…”

He leaned directly into the camera lens.

”What is the true value of your so-called order when it is built upon the suffering of those you have abandoned?”

Dead silence followed across the cosmos.

Across countless worlds, citizens stared at their screens in stunned disbelief. Some scoffed at the rhetoric, others exchanged uneasy, fearful glances, while many simply watched in paralyzed anticipation, waiting for an explanation.

The masked man gave them none, not yet.

Instead, he slowly rose from his chair, his tall frame cutting through the dim light.

”We are the Crimson Reckoning.”

The name echoed ominously across every star system in the Dominion.

”We are the people you erased from your official records. The families you condemned to oblivion. The children who grew up among shattered ruins while your rulers celebrated their endless prosperity.”

His gloved hands curled into tight fists.

”We are the forgotten, the betrayed, and the discarded.”

For the first time, his voice carried a raw, unvarnished trace of genuine rage.

”And we have come to collect what is owed.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the galaxy.

”Today, three hundred and fifty thousand locations on Planet Roca have been brought under our control. Academies. Hospitals. Commercial centers. Residential complexes.”

His masked face tilted upward. “Every place where your citizens gather. Every place where your government naively believes its people are safe.”

He spread his arms wide in a grand gesture.

”Your authorities will label us terrorists. Your news networks will brand us monsters. Your leaders will promise to crush us, desperately assuring you that everything will return to normal.”

A quiet, humorless laugh escaped his throat.

”Let them.”

The crimson glow within his mask intensified sharply.

”We have no interest in their empty promises.”

He stepped closer to the camera until the stylized skull mask filled the entire display.

”We are not here to negotiate.”

His voice dropped to a terrifying, razor-sharp whisper.

”We are not here to beg.”

The skull’s hollow eyes burned with blinding intensity.

”We are here to seek retribution.”

The broadcast instantly cut to complete black.

For three agonizing seconds, every display across the Astral Dominion remained void of light.

Then, the red-and-black skull appeared one final time.

Beneath it, a single line of blood-red text materialized across the screens:

THE CRIMSON RECKONING HAS BEGUN.