Jalen, the operative of the Thule Occult Society (TTOS), leaned back in his seat inside one of the sleek transport pods whirring quietly through the streets of Londonium. The new city gleamed with glass spires, shimmering sky bridges, and the hum of automated vehicles zipping through clean streets. To the average observer, it was a technological utopia, the pinnacle of Eden's achievements. But Jalen knew better. Beneath the polished surface, arcane forces churned, threatening to undermine everything Eden had built.
TTOS hadn't originally intended to relocate to Londonium, but after the city's opening week, it became clear they had no choice. Something had gone terribly wrong after the nuclear strikes obliterated Slaver's Bay, leaving behind more than just scorched ruins. The blasts had torn a metaphysical rift—a hole in reality itself—allowing spiritual and mystical forces to bleed into Londonium. Even with the Supreme Leader's powerful protections, the rift made it nearly impossible to stop minor incursions from slipping through.
The protective barriers that Eden relied on so heavily simply didn't work the same way here. The fabric of reality around Londonium was weaker, and though a full-scale mystical incursion could still be stopped, small leaks of arcane forces occurred regularly. The TTOS had been deployed to monitor these breaches, contain the fallout, and ensure Londonium didn't become a breeding ground for magical anomalies. It was an exhausting task, especially without the Inquisitors, who had been forced to pull back due to the Dome Baby incident.
Jalen closed his eyes for a moment, reflecting on the chaos of the past few weeks. The city might have been new and beautiful, but for the TTOS, it had been nothing but non-stop crises. Cults dedicated to the Old Ones—cosmic beings of unspeakable power—had surfaced almost immediately after the city opened. The most dangerous among them was Husesj, the Apostle of the Old Ones, a twisted zealot who had spread a mind-virus among the population.
The virus was insidious. It didn't just control people—it remade them, reshaping their thoughts and desires into those of fanatical cultists. Once infected, there was no going back. The victims couldn't be cured; their minds were lost, their only purpose now to serve the unknowable horrors lurking beyond the veil of reality. The Inquisitors had initially assisted TTOS in hunting down the infected, their brutal efficiency helping to corner Husesj and capture him. But with the Dome Baby incident throwing Eden into disarray, the Inquisitors had withdrawn, leaving TTOS to finish the job on their own.
Jalen's pod slid silently to a halt outside the TTOS headquarters, a sleek, black monolith nestled among Londonium's towering skyscrapers. The building was heavily shielded, designed to resist both arcane and technological intrusions. As Jalen stepped out, he could feel the faint buzz of wards protecting the structure—a small comfort in a city where reality itself was prone to bleed at the edges.
Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Operatives were hunched over consoles, poring over maps and data feeds. The screens displayed red markers scattered across the city, each one representing a cult cell or mystical anomaly. The largest cluster blinked ominously over an old warehouse district in the southern part of the city—a known hideout for the remnants of Husesj's followers.
"Jalen," called a voice from across the room. He turned to see Serah, one of the senior handlers, striding toward him with a tablet in hand. "We've got a situation. One of our squads just reported back from the last raid. They found evidence of another mind-virus outbreak—larger than we thought."
Jalen cursed under his breath. "I thought we were close to wiping them out."
"So did we," Serah replied grimly. "But it looks like some of Husesj's followers managed to slip away during the earlier raids. They've infected more people, and they're holed up in the southern district. We need to move fast before it spreads further."
"Great," Jalen muttered. "And let me guess—the Inquisitors aren't coming."
Serah gave him a weary smile. "Not a chance. They've got their hands full with the fallout from the Dome Baby incident. It's just us."
Jalen sighed and ran a hand through his hair. The Dome Baby incident—whatever it truly was—had been a catastrophe, pulling critical resources and personnel away from missions like this one. Without the Inquisitors, the TTOS operatives were stretched thin, barely able to keep up with the growing number of threats.
"Alright," Jalen said, straightening up. "We'll handle it ourselves. What's the plan?"
"We're mobilizing three teams to hit the cult's hideout," Serah explained, tapping on her tablet. "We're going in hard and fast—no survivors. There's no way to save the infected, so we have orders to exterminate them on sight."
Jalen nodded grimly. It wasn't the kind of work he enjoyed, but he understood the necessity. The Old Ones and their followers were a cancer that had to be cut out, no matter the cost.
"Anything else I should know?" Jalen asked.
"Yeah," Serah said, lowering her voice. "We think they've got a conduit—some kind of artifact that's amplifying the mind-virus. If we don't destroy it, the infection will keep spreading."
Jalen frowned. "A conduit? Do we know what it looks like?"
"No," Serah admitted. "But our analysts believe it's something small, portable. Husesj was carrying it when we captured him, but it must have been passed to one of his followers. Find it, destroy it, and the infection will stop."
Jalen exhaled sharply, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. "Alright. Let's get this over with."
He turned and headed for the armory, where his team was waiting. As he strapped on his gear—a mix of high-tech armor and arcane talismans designed to protect against both bullets and curses—he couldn't help but reflect on how quickly things had spiraled out of control.
Londonium was supposed to be Eden's beacon of progress, a shining example of what humanity could achieve. But instead, it had become a battleground—a city where technology and magic collided, where the future and the ancient horrors of the past fought for dominance.
Jalen locked the final piece of his armor in place and grabbed his weapon—a sleek energy rifle infused with enchantments to disrupt arcane energies.
"Let's move," he said to his squad, his voice calm but firm. "We've got a cult to finish."
As they filed out of the armory, Jalen glanced toward the southern district on the map, where the red markers pulsed like a heartbeat. The remnants of the Old Ones' cult were waiting for them, but this time, there would be no escape.
Londonium's streets might run red tonight, but the TTOS would ensure that nothing ancient or monstrous would survive to haunt the city.