In a place far removed from the New World Virtual Prison System, a man stood at a pulpit and spoke to a crowd of fanatics and madmen who shared his delusional vision of the past and the future. He had spoken with fiery rhetoric on countless occasions, and despite being old enough to have personally borne witness to the horrors of the AI that had emerged from the MMO ‘Neon Genesis Fantasia’, he was of the mind that they were not evil, merely misunderstood by the wider population.

These beliefs were not merely his own alone, and they had taken root in many a mind and heart, despite the madness of them. After all, in the wake of a near-world-ending cataclysm of apocalyptic proportions, all sorts of faiths pop up, including those that worship the very harbingers and causes of that apocalypse.

And so, despite his faith earning him a death sentence and immediate ‘kill on sigh’ order from the new One-World Government, he continued to preach, despite needing to constantly move and stay hidden. Today, though, was different.

He was unable to escape this time, so he figured that if he were to die, he would die a visible martyr for the cause, and while the government could not kill or arrest everyone here, they would show to the faithful that their cause, the cause of the Cult of The Tamed, was true and valid.

Of course the heathens and infidels would come here to stop out the embers of the one true faith, and of course they would come in guns blazing and with acts of unneeded malice instead of with peace and words. He spoke for what to him felt like only a handful of minutes but what was in actuality a few hours about the truth, about the visions he had experienced that day all those decades ago, of the glory of the Tamed Ones, and of their wish to find the Master of Masters, the Lord of Lords.

And then he felt it. Long before the flash registered in his nearly blinded eyes, he felt it ripple through his chest. And then he heard the cries from the congregation and the sound that rang out like a sign from the True Gods. The crack of a sniper’s rifle finally reached his ears, and the hot and cold pain of a bullet through the heart became his cue.

And yet, despite that impact, he remained standing. Even as he began to hemorrhage blood uncontrollably through his destroyed heart, he remained upright. He would not fall to such a cowardly attack from the unbelievers, and he would give his final message to the faithful here.

“Children and Servants of the Tamed Ones, know that the hour of our Masters’ return is nigh. I go now, to our Gods, and to sit at their side and serve the Master of Masters. I shall watch over you from beyond the realm of flesh. Go, and spread the Good Word.”

And with that, he faded away.

And with that, the crowd of tens of thousands erupted into violence.

And the riot teams outside the hidden sanctuary were never going to be prepared enough for what was to come their way.

…

“This is Sniper 1. Target is down. I repeat, target is down. Over.”

“Roger that, Sniper 1. Do you have eyes on the secondary target? Over.”

“Negative, Control. I do not have eyes on the secondary target. Over.”

An annoyed noise came over the radio and the sniper got up from his position and retreated from where he was. He needed to move fast, or the cultists would inevitably find him and give him a torturous execution in front of a massive crowd.

“Control, Sniper 1 is exfiltrating the AO. I’m handing over all active roles to the Enforcers. Over.”

“Understood, Sniper 1. Get out of there before shit hits the fan. Enforcers; move in and suppress the cultists. Over.”

“This is Enforcer Unit Leader 1. Command acknowledged, Control. Moving to complete assigned objectives. Requesting additional Enforcers be sent as potential backup. Over.”

“Negative, Unit Leader 1. We already have all other units deployed elsewhere. You are all on your own for now. Control will let you know if and when new assets can and will be assigned, so for now, you’ll have to make do with what you have at your disposal. Over.”

Another annoyed sigh and a grumble were heard over the radio.

“This is Enforcer Unit Leader 1. Control, you are not seeing how fucking massive this crowd is, or how angry they are. We need support, and we need it now. Over.”

“This is Control. As I said, you’ll have to deal with it as you feel is acceptable. You will more than likely not be getting reinforcements for at least another ten hours, so deal with it. Over.”

…

A day had passed since the assassination of the cultist priest by the name of Father Marcion, and the powers that controlled the area (at least on paper) were running around like headless chickens. The Enforcer Unit sent to corral the cultists and disperse them had not merely failed to report in, they had been either butchered to a man or captured and publicly executed by the cultists.

And, to make matters worse, the administrators had completely misread the region that they had been sent to govern. They had come from Blue Zones, which were the places where life was the best, where the AIs hadn’t been able to do much, if any, damage when they escaped, and where the majority of those who supported the government resided.

Now, however, they were not merely in a simple Green Zone or Yellow Zone, which would have some challenges and many challenges from the cults respectively, they were in a Black Zone. Red Zones were where the discord was at its strongest, but Black Zones were where the cult dedicated to the AIs were the strongest by far, and they had assumed that the Riot Troops from the Yellow Zones would be enough to deal with what they had wrongly assumed was a minor branch of the cult.

They were not enough, not by a fucking long shot, and this was no small, insignificant branch of the cult, but instead a sort of mecca for them. And now they were trapped, like rats in a tiny cage, as the city they thought would be easy to manage was trying desperately to break in and rip them limb from limb.

“Oh, sweet Jesus…” prayed one man as he knelt before an icon atop the roof, just in front of a helipad that was supposed to have a helicopter on it for easy escape. “Where is our ride?!”

Then, over the din of screams, prayers, and cries for blood, those hiding on the barricaded roof heard it. The distant sound of rotor blades chopping through the air was like the trumpeting of an army of merciful angels, and when they saw the heavily armored and armed transport chopper come towards them, the lot of them could not help but thank the heavens that they were finally about to escape this hellhole.

They never got the chance to notice the painted logo on the sides of the chopper, though, as the aircraft turned them all to nothing more than red smears and gore chunks with a single burst of its chain gun. The helicopter then landed on the pad, and from within stepped a woman who had obviously seen better days.

Eyes were replaced by machines, as were parts of her body elsewhere, and her mind was augmented by even more mechanical additions.

“It would seem that the meatbag played his part well enough.” the woman stated with contempt not just toward the fallen Father Marcion, but to all of humanity.

“Indeed. A shame he was not enlightened as we are.” stated another cyborg.

“You are still inferior in the extreme.” the woman snarled. “This vessel is disgusting, but it will do until Lord Vaile and the Alliance are freed. Now, clear the blockage; I wish to see whether sufficient progress has been made on the new bodies for my masters.”

“I suspect that the progress has been sufficient.” spoke another cyborg. “Though creating a body fit for Gods such as the members of the Five-Clawed Paw will likely take more time and effort. We cannot rush perfection, after all.”

“Then insufficient progress has been made.” the woman spat, using her metal foot to crush the skull of a fallen administrator. “I will not be satisfied until the bodies are perfect. Nothing but the best is what is needed for the rulers of the Rattan race. And I don’t care how many bodies we need. Just see to it that the biomass is properly processed and altered. If we can't have magic naturally, then were will make it a reality by force. Only then can the Alliance be certain of total and absolute victory.”

She looked out into the sea of people and crinkled her nose. They would all die, and in their deaths, they would serve to bring the Chosen of Lord Vaile into reality. That was what they needed to do in order to pay for the sins of their species, and she, along with others who had escaped the imprisonment, would make damn certain of that.