The nexus had cracked open three days ago, and the empire split along the fractures. No grand speeches or final battles marked the divide. Just quiet withdrawals, closed borders, and the slow realization that nothing would reset this time. Three factions now held the pieces.
The Sanctuary Enclave claimed the outer rings and neutral zones. Atlas and Lara ran it as best they could, a messy mix of old community holdouts and newer hybrids who wanted something closer to human than machine.
The Rigid Core kept the apex and the loyal districts, still under Selene's direct hand. They moved like one body, precise and cold.
Then there were the Wild Hybrids—autonomous living districts that had broken off completely. Their buildings grew veins and mouths. Their streets argued with each other. Chaos wasn't a side effect there. It was policy.
Atlas stood on the edge of one such district, a place the locals called Vein Parliament. His crystal had cracked deeper after the nexus incident.
