illphated
Neon rain poured over the city, each droplet catching the glow of pink, blue, and purple holograms flickering in the mist. High above the streets, amidst the monolithic towers of glass and steel, a massive figure loomed—an ancient hologram of a deity long forgotten.
It had once been revered, its arm stretching over the city like a guardian’s embrace. But now, the arm glitched, its outline trembling, fragmenting into static before reassembling in jagged, broken shapes. The people below barely noticed anymore. Once, they had feared its dimming glow, whispering of omens and lost favor. Now, it was just another malfunctioning relic in a city built on broken promises.
Among the crowd, a young engineer named Kade watched the arm flicker. He had grown up believing in the legend—the “Arm of the Lord,” a symbol of divine power keeping the city from ruin. But faith had eroded with every corporate war, every machine replacing flesh, every god replaced by profit.
Still, something about the failing hologram unsettled him. It wasn’t just a power drain or corrupted code—it was as if the very force that had sustained it for centuries was unraveling.
Kade pulled his coat tighter and crossed the street, weaving between vending drones and shadowy figures wrapped in synthetic furs. He knew where the power cores were—deep below in the forgotten infrastructure, where the old gods still whispered. If he could reach the source, maybe he could understand what was happening.
But as he took his first step down the underground passage, the entire sky pulsed with a surge of light. The arm twitched violently, stretched further than ever before, then shattered into a cascade of digital embers.
The city went silent.
And in that silence, Kade heard something he hadn’t heard in years.
A voice.
Not from speakers. Not from a transmission.
Something deeper. Older.
“My arm is broken… and so is your world.”
The neon rain kept falling, but for the first time in decades, the city felt the chill of something beyond its control.