The incident lasted two days, and nearly all of New York was in an uproar.
Such a massive monster had rampaged through the upper-city streets—anyone who wasn't blind could've seen it from multiple blocks away. Although Division Nine quickly deployed emergency units to manage the chaos, they still couldn't stop the news from spreading by word of mouth among those in the know.
By the second day, Division Nine seemed to more or less give up on suppressing the story. They stopped issuing take-down requests, didn't delete posts or block content, and instead adopted a sort of "let it all burn" attitude.
With the official grip loosening, the internet exploded. That night alone, it felt like ten thousand self-proclaimed "witnesses" came forward—each claiming they were on-site during the incident and offering vivid, exaggerated accounts of the terrifying scene.
Rumors are like carving knives of the soul—every time someone passes one along, they leave a mark. And by the time it's passed from ten to a hundred, the story has already become something unrecognizable.
Though Division Nine ceased efforts to cover it up, most of what spread online remained textual—no photos or videos. No one had solid proof, so the story became a contest of who could fabricate the most compelling tale.
While the monster and the terrifying chaos it caused were hot topics, the public's true obsession became the mysterious figure who stopped it all.
No one knew who first mentioned it, but soon, everyone was talking about a mysterious, masked vigilante who had single-handedly ended the disaster.
There were no photos, no solid intel—only that he apparently looked like a bat.
That's it.
But apparently, this lone warrior—with no allies and no backup—had stopped the creature entirely on his own, preventing the catastrophe from spreading further.
Dozens of "eyewitnesses" began stepping forward, swearing up and down that they had seen the man in action:
"He could fly—I saw it with my own eyes! He flew across the sky, fighting the monster mid-air!"
"I saw it too! From my grandma's window! He zoomed across the sky like lightning! I swear he has superpowers—I watched him punch the beast and send it flying! A building collapsed!"
"He can cast spells! Fireballs, ice, even summon storms—I bet he's a wizard!"
...
As the topic spread and more people paid attention, netizens started digging up old, overlooked posts from previous nights.
Stories like:
—A woman walking home at night was attacked by a stalker. A mysterious man appeared, severed the attacker's legs, then vanished.
—A street fight broke out. The nearby streetlight flickered off. When it turned back on, the attackers were lying unconscious on the ground, covered in bruises and smoke.
Back then, some had reported seeing a "vampire" or "bat demon," but no one took it seriously.
Now, people connected the dots.
They realized all these events pointed to the same masked vigilante.
Soon, amateur investigators began organizing online databases compiling everything known about the figure.
Abilities identified:
Can fly, Can vanish at will
Possesses enough strength to flip a car
Possibly knows magic or uses enchanted gadgets
By the second night, with the situation spiraling, the authorities finally made a move.
For the first time ever, an organization no one had heard of before—Division Nine—stepped forward and held a press conference.
At that press briefing, their spokesperson revealed information about infection carriers to the public for the first time.
They even announced the launch of an official Division Nine website, where citizens could check real-time updates and incident reports.
Like a stone thrown into still water, the press conference triggered a massive social shockwave.
Sure, people had suspected something was off before—there were always conspiracy theorists muttering about aliens, global collapses, or shadowy government lies. But even they didn't truly believe it.
They just didn't want to believe.
But now?
The internet—powered by fiber-optics and social media—spread the truth like wildfire.
And the first emotion that followed was fear.
That very night, people across the city began realizing—
The world they thought they knew…
no longer existed.
From now on, they'd live in a world where danger lurked in every shadow.
Where anyone nearby could go mad without warning.
Where walking past a dark alley might be your last step.
And where you constantly had to check yourself—to make sure you weren't going mad too.
That same night, violent crime spiked.
Robberies, assaults, and arson cases surged.
Maybe it was due to panic. Maybe some used "infection" as an excuse to unleash their inner demons.
Meanwhile—
At Division Nine's New York headquarters...
Cid stuffed his rumpled uniform into a locker and changed into casual clothes. He zipped up his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.
"All packed?"
His superior, Aurelia, leaned against the doorframe.
Cid didn't turn around.
"Just a few days of suspension. Not like it's my first time."
Normally, agents were strictly forbidden from harming civilians who weren't infected.
And though the ones Cid had killed were mostly guilty as hell, there were a few who hadn't turned yet—technically still "normal."
So this suspension was their way of quietly giving him a break… while letting him off the hook.
"Still think that lunatic was right," Cid muttered suddenly.
"Which lunatic?" Aurelia asked.
"That laughing madman." Cid lit a cigarette.
"He said everyone fears the unknown. The Void.
And this infection stuff—well, it just brings all that hidden fear to the surface.
People start to panic, act out, reveal their true selves."
"So you're back on your 'doomsday realism' again?" Aurelia smirked.
"It's not pessimism. It's realism.
Humans create their own demons. I saw enough of that when I was still with Homeland Security."
He took a deep drag.
"A new era's coming. And the rise of supernaturals will be the spark.
Fear of the unknown will spread like never before.
People will spiral into anxiety, darkness will creep deeper...
This will be an era of shadows.
The last boundaries of morality will be blurred."
"The time when people could sleep peacefully?
It's over.
Now we have to watch every shadow, every corner.
Even question ourselves—are we still sane?"
"Wow, sounds like you're not gonna enjoy this era," Aurelia said sarcastically.
"Enjoy it?" Cid chuckled.
"I love it."
He snuffed out his cigarette and smirked.
"This new age? It's gonna be full of scum.
And I'm gonna hunt every last one of them.
I'll crush them all—or die trying.
And either way, I'll enjoy every second of it."
"Even if I'm all alone."
Aurelia kept a straight face…
For a moment.
Then she burst out laughing.
"Sorry, but you sounded so serious… it was kinda hilarious."
She waved him off.
"You're such a drama queen."
Before she could say more, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall.
Both of them turned.
Bernica rushed in, panting.
"Did you see it?!"
"See what?" they asked in unison.
"Quick—look outside!"
Bernica darted to the window and yanked the curtains open.
Cid and Aurelia joined her.
And they froze.
The night sky was pitch black.
No moon. No stars.
Like a stage shrouded in curtains.
But in that endless darkness—
A single, warm, golden light pierced through the clouds.
It lit up a perfect circular space in the sky.
At its center…
The silhouette of a bat.
A sharp-edged bat symbol—suspended in the glow like a second moon.
No light trail. No visible source.
It just hovered, rooted in nothing.
The only sign in the void.
A watchful eye in the endless dark.
It was a signal.
Simple. Clear.
Anyone who saw it knew exactly what it meant.
A new age had come.
And though that age would bring chaos and shadows…
It would also bring hope.
From now on, when people walked through the night—
They didn't have to fear the dark.
Because in that darkness…
Wasn't just evil.
There was someone watching.
A sentinel in the shadows.