Chapter 2: when the city fell silent
After the incident, the city felt… frozen.
It was as if time itself had stopped.
The same streets that once stayed alive late into the night—shops open, lights glowing, laughter echoing—now fell silent far earlier than usual. Shutters closed before midnight. Conversations became short and uneasy. People walked faster, avoiding eye contact, as if staying any longer outside might invite something terrible.
The "City of Peace" no longer felt like one.
Fear had taken its place.
And it was visible on every face.
But among the many who witnessed the incident… there was one boy who saw everything.
His name was Ishaan.
And unlike the others, he had been recording.
---
"Hello guys, I'm Ishaan. Welcome to today's vlog."
His voice had been cheerful just moments before.
"Today, we're in the City of Peace—a place where darkness is defeated by light. A place where it feels like night doesn't even exist—"
He stopped.
Something felt… wrong.
The air shifted.
The constant noise of traffic faded into nothing. Conversations died mid-sentence. Within seconds, an unnatural silence spread across the entire street.
Ishaan frowned, lowering his camera slightly.
"…That's strange."
A sudden unease gripped him.
Without thinking, he pushed forward into the crowd.
"Excuse me—side, please—let me through—"
People stood still, their eyes fixed ahead.
Ishaan forced his way through—
And then he saw it.
---
An old man.
Standing helplessly.
And in front of him—
A man.
Tall. Composed. Perfect posture.
Holding a sword.
Before Ishaan could react—
One strike.
Clean.
Effortless.
Like slicing through paper.
The old man's body split in two.
---
Everything stopped.
Ishaan's vision blurred for a second. His breath caught in his throat.
His entire body began to tremble violently, as if he had been thrown into freezing water. His hands shook uncontrollably. His legs refused to move.
He wanted to run.
He wanted to scream.
But he couldn't.
It felt as if something invisible had locked his entire body in place.
Frozen.
Helpless.
---
At that exact moment—
Every device stopped working.
Phones. Cameras. CCTV.
All of them.
Screens turned red with the same message:
"Connection lost. Please refresh your device."
One by one… everything went dead.
As if the moment itself was being erased.
---
Panic spread like wildfire.
A girl collapsed on the spot, unable to handle the shock. Her boyfriend knelt beside her, desperately trying to wake her.
"Hey! Wake up—please—someone bring water!"
Parents quickly covered their children's eyes.
"Don't look! Close your eyes!"
Some people stepped back in horror. Others stood frozen, unable to process what they had just seen.
Fear had taken complete control.
---
And then—
The killer vanished.
Not by running.
Not by hiding.
But as if he had simply… disappeared into thin air.
---
Only after he was gone did people dare to blink.
To breathe.
To move.
The pressure he left behind felt unbearable—like a mountain pressing down on everyone present.
---
Later, as Ishaan prepared to leave with his friend Gaja, the chaos had turned into confusion.
Gaja pulled out his phone, frustrated.
"Bro… what the hell? My video isn't opening!"
He tapped repeatedly, growing more irritated.
"Damn it… all that effort wasted!"
Ishaan sighed, still shaken.
"Yeah… looks like everything's gone."
Around them, people were saying the same thing.
"My photos disappeared!"
"My video won't open!"
"This doesn't make any sense!"
Some even started arguing in anger, blaming each other, blaming the system, blaming anything they could.
But Ishaan didn't check his camera.
Not yet.
---
As they walked home, the silence between them felt heavy.
They talked, but their voices were low.
About the murder.
About the fear.
About the lost recordings.
Soon, they reached Gaja's house.
"Alright, bro… see you tomorrow at school," Gaja said, forcing a smile. "We'll record again. Today was just bad luck."
But his face revealed the truth—he was disappointed.
Ishaan noticed.
"It's fine," Ishaan replied. "Things like this happen. Just go home, get some rest. We'll figure it out tomorrow."
Gaja nodded.
"Yeah… no point stressing over it. Let's plan something better tomorrow."
They exchanged a quiet goodnight and went their separate ways.
---
Ishaan's house was about 500 meters away.
As he walked alone, the silence of the night felt heavier than usual.
He looked up at the moon.
"…What a dangerous day…"
He muttered to himself.
Out of boredom—or maybe curiosity—he connected his camera to his phone.
He already knew it wouldn't work.
Everything else had failed.
So why would his be any different?
---
But then—
The file opened.
---
Ishaan froze.
"What the…?"
His eyes widened in disbelief.
"How is this even possible?"
His heartbeat spiked instantly.
Without thinking, he started running.
Fast.
As if something was chasing him.
But this wasn't fear.
This was urgency.
---
He burst through his house door and rushed straight to his room.
Sweat covered his face. His breathing was heavy.
He quickly connected the camera to his computer.
"Anant… play today's vlog."
"Playing."
The video started.
Ishaan stared at the screen, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Every other device had failed.
Every recording had vanished.
So then—
Why was his still there?
---
"Anant… what happened?"
There was a brief pause.
Then the AI responded:
"During recording, an unknown virus attempted to delete your data."
Ishaan's expression darkened.
"What?"
"I activated auto-save and ultra-defense mode."
Data logs appeared on the screen.
"The virus was highly advanced. Likely created by a skilled hacker or developer."
Ishaan stood there, stunned.
"…Play it again."
---
He watched the video.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
Ten times.
Each time, more carefully.
And then—
He noticed something.
Something wasn't right.
---
"…I've seen this before."
He leaned closer to the screen.
"The shoes… the sword…"
His voice grew slower.
"…I've seen them somewhere."
---
"Anant," he said firmly, "scan all previous vlogs. Find any footage with similar shoes and weapon patterns."
"Searching…"
Within seconds—
"Fourteen matches found."
Ishaan's eyes narrowed.
"Check if any of them have a double-axe symbol on the side of the shoe."
"Analyzing…"
A moment passed.
"Two matches confirmed."
The videos appeared on screen.
Ishaan focused on the sword.
The handle.
The grip.
And then he saw it—
A scratch.
A distinct, deep mark.
Exactly the same.
---
"…It's the same weapon."
"Match probability: 96%."
Ishaan stepped back slowly.
His mind raced.
"…Who is this guy?"
---
Meanwhile—
In a completely different location—
A dark room.
Silent.
A projector illuminated the space.
The same murder footage played on the screen.
Five figures sat around a table, their faces hidden in darkness.
Only their presence was clear.
Powerful.
Dominating.
---
"Mission complete," one of them said calmly.
"Yes," another replied. "But what about the people who witnessed it?"
A female voice spoke next, cold and composed.
"There's nothing to worry about. Every device in that area was hacked. No government, no police, not even secret agencies have any solid evidence of what happened."
Silence followed.
Then—
A figure appeared.
Out of nowhere.
The same man.
The killer.
---
The atmosphere changed instantly.
Even in the dark, his presence was overwhelming.
Dominating.
Heavy.
One of the figures leaned forward.
"Good job."
A slight pause.
"Your next assignment is…"
He leaned closer, whispering into the killer's ear.
The projector light shut off.
Darkness consumed the room.
---
"You are free," another voice said.
"Your payment will be transferred on time."
---
Silence.
---
And somewhere far away—
Ishaan stared at his screen.
Unaware…
That he had just stepped into something far bigger than he could imagine.