As the Chinese government's investigation into Japan and Korea intensified, suspicion hung over the East Asian alliance like a storm cloud, with diplomats exchanging veiled threats and mana surveillance drones patrolling borders. In Beijing, officials dissected every scrap of evidence from the Shanghai attack—charred remnants of mana-infused explosives, digital trails looping back to Japanese Eclipse Collective signatures, and Korean SDF's suspiciously timely intel. "They're colluding to undermine us," a high-ranking minister snarled in a closed session, his earth affinity cracking the conference table. But before accusations could escalate to sanctions, chaos struck again—with the same ruthless precision as Shanghai.
In Seoul's bustling Gangnam district, the attack unfolded at dusk. Mana explosives detonated in a crowded subway station, flames twisting into ethereal serpents that devoured everything in their path. Commuters screamed as the blast ripped through the crowd, limbs flying in gory arcs, blood splattering the tiled walls like abstract horror art. Bodies convulsed, mana corruption melting skin into bubbling sludge, entrails spilling onto the tracks amid the acrid stench of burned flesh. Min-jun Park and his Recruit Squad, en route to a routine patrol under Third Division orders, were the first responders. Shadows erupted from Min-jun as he shielded survivors, his Black Heart stirring but held in check. Ji-hoon's kinetic bursts shattered debris, rescuing trapped victims, while Soo-jin's illusions masked the gore to prevent panic, and Hye-jin's sound waves muffled the agonized cries.
Simultaneously, in Tokyo's Shibuya Crossing, a similar nightmare unfolded. Explosives hidden in vendor carts ignited, mana flames coiling like dragons, incinerating pedestrians in visceral bursts. Flesh peeled away in charred layers, bones protruding from mangled torsos, blood pooling in crimson rivers across the iconic scramble. Aiko Tanaka, back in Japan but far from idle, rushed to the scene with Eclipse Collective allies, her wind powers extinguishing flames and carrying the wounded to safety. "This isn't us," she gasped into her comms, guilt twisting her gut over her prior involvement in Min-jun's case.
Casualties mounted in both nations—hundreds dead, infrastructure crippled, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood and the wails of survivors. Emergency SDF squads mobilized, but the damage was done, fueling global outrage.
Hours later, a video surfaced on encrypted channels, viral within minutes despite government blackouts. A masked figure, cloaked in shifting shadows that hinted at advanced mana manipulation, spoke against a backdrop of flickering global maps. "We are Genesis," the voice declared, distorted but resolute. "Our goal is to disrupt the current corrupt government system and rebuild a new with no form of unfairness. The attack on this nation is just beginning—next will be USA, UK, France, and India. Exodus will come soon." The message ended with a symbol: a fractured heart, pulsing black, eerily reminiscent of the Black Heart phenomenon.
The world reeled. In Neo-Seoul, Min-jun's squad reported their findings from the Seoul site—residue matching Shanghai's—to Third Division HQ. But Captain Soo-jin Lee's response was immediate: "You're off the mission. This is official squad level now—too dangerous for recruits." Min-jun's eyes narrowed, sensing the pull-back as another layer of Lee's web, but he complied, his thoughtful mind already dissecting the video's implications.
Deeper investigation by Squad 4 of Division 3 uncovered the plot's true scale. The attacks weren't random terror; they targeted symbols of governmental power—subway hubs in Seoul linking to the National Assembly, Shibuya as Japan's economic heart. Decrypted manifests from the outpost revealed a coordinated assault on the world order: mana weapons designed to incite international blame games, weakening alliances and paving the way for Genesis's "rebuilt" system. "It's not just China," Squad Leader reported to Commander Choi. "This threatens the global government framework—UN oversight, mana treaties. Genesis aims to collapse it all, starting with these strikes."
The intel was shared urgently with the Chinese SDF, a bridge amid the suspicion. In Beijing, the data confirmed the pattern: explosives engineered to mimic national signatures, framing Japan while implicating Korea's foreknowledge. But the uproar in China's headquarters escalated. "How does Korea have this intel on an attack blamed on Japan?" a furious general demanded, slamming files. "Collusion! They're playing us—letting the SDF swoop in as heroes while hiding their ties." Problems arose as attention zeroed in on Korea: demands for joint interrogations, border closures, and veiled threats of retaliation. The Korean government, still reeling from their scapegoat ploy, denied involvement, but whispers of internal leaks—perhaps from Lee's network—fueled the fire.
In the SDF, Min-jun pondered Lee's earlier words about preserving SDF independence. Was Genesis his endgame, a chaotic rebirth to elevate the organization? The Black Heart pulsed in response, a dark ally against the encroaching storm.
As USA, UK, France, and India heightened alerts—mana shields activating over key sites—the world braced for Exodus, whatever form it took. Min-jun's squad, sidelined but vigilant, prepared for the shadows to strike again, blood and betrayal on the horizon.