New Babylon Upper Sector, Cloud Core Data Center.

  This was the brain of the entire city, and an absolute forbidden zone. There were no windows, no decorations, only countless optical cables flowing with golden light, connecting like nerve bundles to the massive, suspended [Eye of Omniscience] in the center.

  Moriarty sat alone in the center of this pure white space. He wasn't drinking tea or playing chess as usual; instead, he was manipulating an incredibly complex holographic interface.

  The interface displayed the flow chart of New Babylon’s entire underground economy.

  Countless red lines representing capital flow shuttled through the city model like blood vessels. And in that corner of District 13. a tiny, yet bizarrely frequent fluctuation appeared.

  "Strange..."

  Moriarty’s slender finger tapped lightly in the void, magnifying that fluctuation point.

  "Source of funds unknown. Did not pass through any Guild-monitored channels. Neither black market transactions nor traditional money laundering. This data signature looks like it was... generated out of thin air?"

  He pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses, a flash of excitement crossing his eyes—the look of a hunter discovering a new species of prey.

  "Interesting. The underlying logic of this encryption algorithm doesn't belong to any existing binary system. It looks more like... a random number generator based on 'Causality'."

  "Underworld black tech?"

  Moriarty smiled faintly. He had always known there was a "Master" (Singularity) behind John, but he hadn't expected that Master's technical methods to be capable of bypassing his firewall directly and opening an "invisible channel" within the financial system.

  "Beep—"

  Suddenly, the silence of the space was broken by a cold electronic notification tone.

  The [Eye of Omniscience] suspended in the center rotated, projecting a beam of black light that coalesced into a semi-transparent humanoid figure in front of Moriarty.

  The figure wore a black robe symbolizing supreme power, and a platinum mask devoid of any expression covered his face.

  Mordred.

  The High Priest of the Necromancers' Guild, and the de facto ruler of this city.

  "Moriarty."

  Mordred’s voice carried no emotional color, sounding entirely synthesized. "I need an explanation regarding the progress of the 'God-Making Plan'. Why is that E-Class fugitive still alive?"

  Moriarty didn't stand up to bow, nor did he even lift his eyelids. He remained focused on the anomalous capital fluctuation, his tone as indifferent as if speaking to an ignorant subordinate.

  "Because I am observing. Your Excellency, High Priest."

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  "Observing?" Mordred’s voice raised a notch, the surrounding data streams showing visible noise due to his emotional fluctuation. "You wasted a whole week on an ant? Do you know how many people down below are questioning the Guild's execution capability?"

  "Ant?"

  Moriarty finally turned his head, looking at the high-and-mighty High Priest. There was no reverence in his eyes, only a pity that saw through to the essence.

  "Is the 'God' you speak of a fragile existence that cares about the buzzing of ants?"

  He waved a finger, projecting the data stream of the [Paranormal Livestream] before Mordred.

  On the screen was the playback of John’s now-banned livestream, and that bizarre capital curve.

  "Look at this." Moriarty pointed to the account named "Grant All Requests."

  "He is livestreaming. He is using a method we cannot comprehend to convert Fear into Entertainment, Entertainment into Faith, and finally Faith into... tangible resources."

  "This isn't a simple provocation. This is a new ecosystem."

  Mordred watched the footage, watched the barrage of frantic gift-giving, and the gaze beneath his mask turned dark.

  "He is shaking our foundation."

  Mordred said coldly. "He is telling those untouchables that besides the Guild, there is another way out. This idea is more dangerous than a virus."

  "Kill him. Immediately. Now. I want to see his corpse hanging from the Spire."

  Moriarty sighed, seemingly weary of this simple-minded brutality.

  "Killing him is easy. But I suggest we don't."

  "Why?"

  "Because he is helping you complete the hardest part of the 'God-Making Plan'—Pressure Testing."

  Moriarty stood up and walked to the holographic city model.

  "What is it you pursue? A perfectly ordered, perfectly efficient, noise-free world, correct?"

  "That so-called 'Divine Body' should be a control hub with perfect execution in data and zero emotional fluctuation. It needs no love, no hate, not even thought—only calculation."

  Mordred fell silent. This was a core secret, but he didn't refute it.

  "However, Your Excellency."

  Moriarty’s finger gently traced the edge of the city.

  "You should know what a strictly closed, strictly ordered system implies in thermodynamics."

  "That is—Heat Death."

  "Without variables, there is no flow. Without flow, there is no life. When all voices are erased, when all resistance is suppressed, when this city becomes a flawless crystal..."

  Moriarty turned, looking at Mordred, his lips curling into an elegant yet cruel smile.

  "That will be its time of death."

  "And John Doe is that sole variable. He is the catfish stirring up the stagnant water. He is injecting the final vitality into this system of yours that is about to die."

  Mordred stared dead at Moriarty.

  After a long silence, he huffed coldly, flicking his black robe.

  "Your theories are pretty, Risk Control Officer. But I do not need variables. I only need obedience."

  "Since you refuse to act, we will change methods."

  Mordred’s figure began to dissipate, but before vanishing, he left a cold command.

  "Initiate the 'Public Opinion Cleansing' protocol. Since he wants to be an internet celebrity, let him be famous enough."

  "Build him up. Portray him as a fraud who will do anything for views, even colluding with evil spirits to harm children. Let the fools who praised him to the skies step on him and grind him into the mud with their own feet."

  "This is called... destroying the heart."

  The beam vanished. Mordred was gone.

  In the empty data center, only Moriarty remained.

  He looked at the city model, which had returned to calm, and at the red anomaly point that was still stubbornly pulsing.

  "Destroying the heart?"

  Moriarty shook his head, sat back in his chair, and picked up the cup of cold tea next to him.

  "Truly... a boring design."

  "A system that has to strangle all possibilities just to maintain rule is like a man dying of thirst to avoid drowning. How foolish."

  He took a small sip of tea, the bitterness spreading across his tongue.

  "If I don't let this system crash once, how can I prove my model is correct?"

  Moriarty’s finger tapped the red dot again. But this time, he didn't intercept it. Instead... he quietly opened a backdoor for it.

  It was the only loophole he left as the "Risk Control Officer" to prevent the system's Heat Death.

  "Run, John."

  Moriarty watched the screen, his eyes shining with a light only a madman could understand.

  "Let me see just how much of a mess you, a tiny variable, can make of this dying, perfect world."

  Outside the window, a storm was brewing.

  But before the storm fell, this silence felt particularly unsettling.

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