Chapter 118: Terrorist?
His two objectives enveloped primarily the force. They were concepts that could not escape from their most fierce, most ancient and tangible concept.
Only through consuming the essence of Tyrants, artificial monsters, could he gather the precious blood crystals that so much were lacking for his promised class evolution. And in that way, truly feel of what a vampire was capable.
Bérsaic pigeonholed him. Despite the unknown opportunities that abounded within the territory, it was a work that belonged to chance. The game and chance had never been his companions.
But he sensed that the opportunity was arriving, through the unpredictable events that would surround from the flattest town to the capitals of powerful kingdoms.
No one could free himself from a true calamity.
***
He enveloped himself imperceptibly in the shadows, observing how the city began to awaken.
Bérsaic was a frontier city, practically isolated; the kingdom of Lárnac returned it a lesser attention than it really merited. Maintaining the frontier with iron resolution during years and years.
That same spirit began to resurge, like a fire that never would have been really extinguished. In the north, with terrible cold seasons, it was the only that made them remain alive.
The soldiers walked with the back straight, fulfilling their obligations and formations— There were no longer children who ran in the streets; and even the guards, common and ordinary, had the sharper eyes.
The only ones who apparently still did not manage to discern the crossroads and the hidden fear, were the players. Sharing idle chats and proclaiming their great objectives.
He disconnected with disgust. Inside he sighed, it was not disappointment or anguish.
Instead, he saw a shadow of the reality.
The persons who egoistically had chosen their total individualization, did not perceive the danger.
He could not blame them, for he also had been a selfish and ungrateful person.
Only when he observed with terror how the danger preyed on his daily life, was when he succumbed to the consciousness. He was alone and probably would die if he continued thus.
It was the death of his best friend who awoke him.
***
With a shake, he got up.
His apartment continued the same, without perceptible changes. At least it was a place to which he could call home.
At that moment he only needed to check the state of the network. While in very ancient times one could only collect information through mutual exchange, in modernity there existed the universal network.
The information was immediate but little reliable. It depended on one in what to trust.
Suddenly he stopped his hands. His fingers hung, cold and immobile, with the shock growing little by little in his facial features.
His original objective was to find out in the forums about the presumed war that could devastate the human kingdoms.
But the news were absolutely devastating, in comparison.
Thousands of persons had died.
In the West sector of Neo-Atlas Inferior, between the comfortable class and the poorest districts, a disaster difficult to see in decades had occurred.
The news shone uniquely with a title: Terrorist attack! Terrorist attack! Terrorist attack!
A large part of the city had been devastated and the sirens still were heard in the west, with the smoke ascending and the smell of gunpowder and sulfur surrounding its perimeter.
However, had it really been a terrorist attack?
The main news portals drafted the sudden attack of Black Mask, an extremely dangerous character. Employing a horde of explosive drones with chemicals of rapid combustion, he had attacked and caused the tragedy.
But it was absurd.
No one knew any Black Mask.
It was a clean name, imperceptible in the public sphere. According to the drafters, it concerned a discreet criminal.
But a bomb planter was not discreet!
It had only occurred two hours ago. It was too soon to draw conclusions. And according to the notes that he had read in very little time, it was still under investigation.
Anyone would perceive that an attack of that nature could not be carried out so easily under the police attention. That maintained a state of almost perpetual vigilance.
If I were of the west... He thought with the expression darkened.
He would have been one more statistic... And he would not even have perceived it!
Converting himself into a calcined corpse, material of investigation.
His residence belonged to the East sector, in the impoverished fringe of the city. The only danger came from addicts, thieves and lenders.
Only for that reason he continued alive.
His face was totally concentrated. With a fine layer of sweat beginning to form on his nape. The images changed rapidly in his eyes.
They were all the citizens reacting to the disaster. The network had converted itself into the dump of numerous opinions and ideas.
But there still existed no video that really verified the official and standardized version of the event. That was extremely strange, for the confidentiality was very difficult to maintain in their times, when they involved facts of that magnitude.
His doubts began to grow without control. Until the official account of the city published a video.
It was a terrible video, with explosions and screams everywhere. It had been a sector almost exterminated until its foundations.
In its beginning there existed a sensitivity warning, that really did not stop anyone.
The violence escalated gradually, until the panorama converted itself into a desolate vision of smoke and agonizing pain. Like a battlefield that included the civil torture.
The video repeated itself one and another time before him. It was not motivated by the morbidity. But that his heart tightened each time that he saw it.
There was a feeling so strange... So unnatural.
As if the drones did not belong to that place and the visible damages were even more violent, and not only a disproportionate destruction by explosives.
Even so, it was the only video available in the network. There existed no other.
Little by little the dissident opinions began to disappear and the pain of the tragedy began to install itself in their chests.
Until a second video arose.
The author was an unknown account, practically without records. Totally in the anonymity.
But the content exposed was impactful.
In the streets of the West Sector, before the tragedy, strange shadows arose and the chaos began.
Who recorded ran terrified, trying to safeguard his own life before the unknown attack, but even he succumbed.
He was pierced with a humid sound and only could express a choked scream, finally falling dead. The smoke began to ascend until the heavens.
The jaws of a terrible monster were perceptible for a brief moment.
They had returned.
He felt his hands frozen. With a traumatic memory awakening little by little in him.
That attack was worse, much worse. Unquestionable.
Red alerts began to come out on his screen, that little by little blocked his vision, until his connection was lost.
Surprisingly the video had not been erased at any moment. But even so they had blocked his programming of some form.
He delivered himself without strength to the backrest, inhaling strongly.
But an even more terrifying thought arose in his mind.
All those players who still remained inside the game, had not perceived the impact of such a terrible news.
Many could have died while they played.
The game had swallowed them and they had no way to escape.