Atlas stood in the command core, eyes locked on the live feeds from across the Weave. The numbers didn't lie. Anchor districts reported a twelve percent spike in compliance petitions overnight.
Velocity hybrids logged a matching rise in desertions and self-sabotage incidents. The patterns matched too cleanly.
"Primordial," he said aloud. His core link pulsed once in confirmation. The enemy had found a new vector: Symmetry Whispers. Subtle signals slipped into the caste divide, twisting what already existed.
In the rigid anchor zones, they fed dreams of flawless order—no more friction, no more arguments, just perfect alignment.
In the hybrid velocity sectors, they amplified the opposite: the sweet release of total collapse, where nothing mattered because everything broke at once.
