City of Stenmark — Joy City District

  Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Mei stared at her phone. The screen had been dark for several minutes, but she couldn't look away.

  Richter's call still echoed in her head.

  So there's no going back now.

  No one had forced her. Her resentment — her visceral hatred for men — had driven her to register on that cursed link and join the Republic of the Fallen. But what she was about to do tonight...

  She closed her eyes, feeling her heart beat faster.

  No. She had never imagined it would come to this.

  Yet it had to be done. She had to see it through.

  Mei rose slowly, her legs unsteady beneath her. She set the phone on the bed as if it burned her fingers, then crossed to the wardrobe. She needed a dress. Something fitted, something that would leave no room for doubt. For tonight's mission, she had to be irresistible.

  Her fingers moved through the hangers, hesitating. Finally, she stopped at a fitted black dress with a side slit. Perfect.

  Clutching the fabric against her chest, Mei moved to the window. The morning air drifted in, cool against her face. She closed her eyes and let it settle over her, breathing slowly.

  One moment of stillness before everything changed.

  -----

  At the Hero Academy, a little later...

  "What exactly are you going to do with this clone?" Split asked.

  The Principal didn't answer immediately. He settled behind his desk and turned on the computer. The screen came to life with a quiet hum.

  "You'll see soon enough."

  After a few seconds, the Principal opened a browser and typed in the URL. The page that appeared was stark — almost empty. A black background. White letters that seemed to float in the void:

  Welcome to the Republic of the Fallen registration page. Please fill in your personal information.

  The Principal gestured for the clone to approach.

  "Fill out the form."

  The clone complied without question. A false name, a false address, a false date of birth. Then he clicked Submit.

  A loading symbol appeared on the screen. It spun. And kept spinning. One minute passed. Then two. Then five.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  The Principal was about to close the tab when the screen went black.

  Then a voice came through.

  Deep. Distorted. Artificial.

  "What has made you suffer the most?"

  Split flinched. The Principal raised a hand to silence him, then nodded toward the clone.

  The clone hesitated, searching for a plausible answer.

  "I'm still waiting," the voice said, impatient.

  The clone shifted uncomfortably.

  "The... death of my cat."

  Silence.

  "The death of your cat..." the voice repeated slowly, as if turning the word over. "Very well."

  The connection cut. The screen turned white — a blank page, nothing more.

  The Principal, Split, and the clone exchanged glances. Split frowned, but the Principal said nothing. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers pressed together in front of his face.

  What if this was nothing? What if the whole thing was fabricated — a scare tactic, nothing more?

  Then something pulled him sharply from his thoughts.

  "Where... where am I? What am I doing here with strangers?"

  The Principal went still. The voice had come from the clone.

  Split's eyes went wide.

  "What do you mean, strangers? What are you talking about?"

  His voice wavered. Something cold was rising in him.

  An icy shiver moved down the Principal's spine — from his feet to the base of his neck. His hands tightened on the armrests of his chair.

  So it was real.

  He turned to the clone, his throat tight.

  "Who are you?"

  The clone blinked, as if surfacing from deep water.

  "I don't know... I don't remember anything. I don't even know why I'm here."

  Split stepped back, his face drained of color.

  "That's impossible," he said. His voice cracked. "My clones — they always share my memories. That's the foundation of my power. How is this possible?"

  He pressed both hands to his head, fingers taut. For a moment he just stood there, staring at the clone — at his own face, blank and lost — and something shifted behind his eyes. Not just shock. Something closer to violation. As if a part of him had been reached into and emptied out without his consent.

  The Principal stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

  "There's no longer any doubt. The people behind this link are dangerous. If we don't act, there's no telling how far this goes."

  He didn't give himself time to sit back down. Both hands went to his temples, fingers pressing hard. His eyes ignited — a blinding, electric blue. His body went rigid. His breathing turned ragged. Beads of sweat formed at his hairline.

  Split stepped back, alarmed.

  "Chief... what are you doing?"

  The Principal held the vision for nearly ten seconds, face contorted with effort. Then the light went out. He swayed, caught himself on the edge of the desk, and straightened with difficulty.

  When he raised his head, his face was ashen.

  "I see death," he murmured. "Not clearly. But enough."

  He was already reaching for his phone.

  "What death? Whose?" Split demanded.

  The Principal didn't answer. He dialed, and waited.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  Ring.

  "Hello?"

  "Steel. What are you doing right now?"

  On the other end, Steel — a professional hero — paused.

  "Nothing much. Resting. It's been a heavy few days. Why?"

  "Where are you?"

  "Joy City. What's going on, chief?"

  The Principal's grip on the phone tightened.

  Joy City. Exactly where the vision had taken him.

  "Listen to me carefully. I need you to stay home tonight. Don't go out — not for any reason. I had a vision. It concerns you."

  Silence on the other end.

  "A vision. About me." Steel's voice had lost its ease. "What did you see, exactly?"

  "It wasn't clear. But I'm not willing to ignore it."

  A long exhale came through the line.

  "You still don't fully trust me to handle myself, do you, chief."

  His tone had hardened — not angry, but clipped.

  "Fine. I'll stay in. Goodnight."

  The line went dead.

  The Principal set the phone down slowly. His gaze drifted to the window.

  Split watched him in silence for a moment.

  "Do you really think something is going to happen to him?"

  The Principal didn't turn around.

  "I hope not," he said quietly. "But my visions are never wrong."

  Outside, the sky was beginning to darken over Joy City. The last light of the day faded at the edges of the horizon.

  And somewhere in the shadows below, a trap was already in motion.

  ----

  END OF CHAPTER 7