The news surged through the veins of the System like cold poison. First, a murmur in the dark corners of the Glass Circle's communication networks, then a silent scream in the encrypted reports reaching the High Capital, and finally, the brutal, impossible-to-ignore confirmation: Grenda Malvar was dead. The relentless Supervisor, the pillar of unofficial order, the very embodiment of the discipline the Circle prized above all else, had fallen. And not just her. Toren Kaul, the infallible prognosticator; Ilian Meret, the magic dismantler; Master Velro, the sower of emotional plagues; Sava Thir, the weaver of illusions — the elite sent to contain the anomaly had been broken, dispersed, annihilated.

  In the Hall of the Silent Throne, where not even echo dared manifest without permission, King Theron VII — a man whose Life Value (98) was less impressive than the web of control he wove over the continent — received the final report. His face, normally a mask of regal indifference, twitched for a millisecond. It wasn't shock. It was offense. An unacceptable flaw in the perfect tapestry he believed he ruled.

  "Grenda... failed?" The King's voice was low, almost a whisper, but laden with the weight of a thousand death sentences. "The Circle failed? Against... her?"

  The messenger, a Circle servant with a polished mask but trembling hands, merely nodded, not daring to meet the monarch's gaze.

  "The life signatures of Masters Ilian, Toren, and Velro were... extinguished, Your Majesty. Mistress Sava is incapacitated. And Supervisor Malvar... her existence code was ruptured. Not stolen. Ruptured. An act of absolute negation. The Renegade... Lysa... she is evolving in unforeseen ways. And she wasn't alone. The group included the ex-programmer Andrel, the Zero Selene and her Stone Beast, and the former priest Kael."

  King Theron remained silent for long moments. The air in the hall grew colder. The shadows seemed to deepen. Then, he stood. Not with explosive anger, but with the terrifying calm of a storm about to break.

  "Errors are not tolerated," he declared, his voice now resonating with the raw power of the System that sustained him. "Flaws are corrected. Anomalies are... purified. The Glass Circle overestimated its subtlety. Discipline failed where absolute force is required."

  He turned to the advisors emerging from the throne's side shadows — figures cloaked in dark robes, whose Values were hidden, but whose influence was palpable.

  "Prepare the Decree. Activate the Systemic Purification Protocol. Maximum level. Full scope."

  One of the advisors hesitated. "Your Majesty, a protocol of this magnitude... the cost in resources, the social instability..."

  "The cost of inaction is disintegration!" Theron cut in, his voice suddenly thunderous. "This... Lysa... is no longer a simple renegade. She is a symptom. A cancer spreading, attracting other flaws, challenging the very logic of our existence. The Trial of Mirrors didn't break her, it strengthened her. She challenged Grenda and won. She ruptured an existence code! This isn't rebellion. It's existential contagion."

  He made a broad gesture, encompassing the invisible kingdom beyond the palace walls.

  "I want every Zero tracked. Every Hacked located. Every Renegade marked. Uncataloged creatures, entities of fluctuating Value, individuals with unregistered abilities — all are targets. The System Guards, the Value Legions, even the local militias under oath... all will be mobilized. No stone will be left unturned. No dark corner will serve as refuge. Let the kingdom know: the era of tolerance is over. The Purification has begun. And it will end in ashes or in order."

  The decree was sealed with the King's symbol — a single eye surrounded by an infinite cycle — and transmitted. Not by heralds in squares, but by direct pulse into the Code. Every communication crystal in the cities, every message mirror in the outposts, every registration amulet worn by citizens of average Value or higher glowed with the message. The text was short, brutally clear:

  “By Royal Decree and Systemic Mandate, the Absolute Purification Protocol commences. All anomalies of Value, Code, or Origin must be reported and neutralized under penalty of complicity. Loyalty to the System is the only guarantee of existence. Purification is the Will of the Throne.”

  The entire Kingdom shuddered.

  Lysendar District, South Tower – Social Chamber Hall

  Lady Vareth Tyron sipped a rare wine, translucent as a fairy's tear, while observing the silent commotion that had taken over her private hall. Her guests — minor nobles, sponsored artists, fashionable philosophers — exchanged nervous glances, smiles frozen, conversations interrupted by the omnipresent glow of the Decree on the decorative crystals.

  Vareth maintained her composure. Her black veils floated gently with each calculated movement. The news of Grenda's death had surprised her, yes. Grenda was crude, direct, but effective. Her fall indicated that the "Zero anomaly," that same creature she had bought like an exotic trinket years ago, had become something... problematic.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Mother?" A soft voice, almost a whisper, came from her side. Lina Tyron, now a young woman whose cold beauty was an almost perfect copy of her mother's, but with a trace of anxiety in her eyes Vareth never showed, approached. "The Decree... they speak of Zeros. Like... like her."

  Vareth turned her face slowly, a minimal smile on her pale lips. "They speak of all anomalies, dear Lina. The King is merely... weeding the garden. Weeds grew too tall while figures like Grenda played at discipline. Necessary, though rather... inelegant."

  "But is she alive? Lysa? Is she the one they're talking about?" Genuine fear was in Lina's voice. The memory of the "doll" that didn't react, but whose eyes seemed to absorb everything, had never completely left her.

  "Possibly," Vareth replied, taking another sip of wine. "A pity Grenda didn't finish the job. And now this public commotion... So vulgar. Exterminations should be done with surgical precision, not with the noise of a hunt. But the Throne is frightened. And fear makes even kings predictable."

  She looked at her daughter, her eyes calculating. "Don't worry, Lina. Anomalies like her don't survive a truly awakened System. She will be found. And erased. Just watch. And learn how real power moves, not in the shadows of Grenda's Circle, but in the cold light of absolute control."

  Inwardly, however, Vareth was already making plans. The Purification could be an opportunity. Eliminate rivals under the pretext of hunting anomalies. Acquire assets from "contaminated" families. And perhaps... find Lysa before the System did. Not to kill her. But to study her. That ability to rupture codes... fascinating. And potentially, very, very useful.

  Belgrave, House of Ethical Studies – Main Auditorium

  Sario Ulven adjusted his glasses on his thin nose as the floating crystal in the center of the auditorium broadcast the Royal Decree. His students — young scholars in black robes, trained to dissect morality like studying a dead insect — remained in absolute silence.

  Sario showed no surprise. Merely mild intellectual interest. He remembered "Subject Zero – Lysa" well. A fascinating case of resistance to psychological deconstruction. Her escape, at the time, had been noted as "inconclusive result, potential for anomalous resilience." Apparently, the potential had flourished.

  "Observe, apprentices," Sario said, his calm, professorial voice breaking the tense silence. "Behold the raw manifestation of Systemic Logic in response to an unforeseen variable. The social organism, upon detecting a threat to its homeostasis, activates its most primitive defense mechanism: the purge."

  He walked slowly across the improvised stage. "Grenda Malvar represented the attempt to control the anomaly. The Glass Circle, the attempt at secret understanding and utilization. Both failed. And now, the Throne resorts to the final solution: elimination. It is the natural progression of power confronted by the inexplicable."

  A student raised a hand timidly. "But, Master Ulven, is this... ethical?"

  Sario smiled, a smile that didn't reach his gray eyes. "Ethics, my dear fellow, is a construct of the System to justify its own existence. When the System's existence is threatened, ethics become... flexible. What we are witnessing is not a moral debate. It is political biology in its purest form. Survival. Adaptation. And the inevitable eradication of that which does not fit. Fascinating, don't you think?"

  He picked up his own scroll and began taking notes. "The real question is not whether the Purification will work. But how the anomalies will respond. What new forms of resistance or adaptation will arise from this extreme pressure? Suffering, remember, is a formidable catalyst. And this Lysa... she has already proven to be a very interesting living argument. Who knows what thesis she will defend now?"

  Sario had no intention of intervening. Only of observing. Cataloging. And perhaps, publishing a treatise on the collapse once the dust settled.

  High Capital, Tower of Harmony – Minister's Office

  Baron Vexil dropped the enchanted quill onto the official parchment he was signing. The news of the Decree reverberated in his luxurious, yet austere, office like the tolling of a funeral bell. His slender fingers trembled slightly as he picked up the crystal goblet of pure water from the northern glaciers.

  Grenda Malvar, dead. The Glass Circle, decimated by a group led by... Lysa. The Zero he had taken into his "re-education" program. The Zero he had coldly handed over to the Commission of Ethical Registry when she became inconvenient, when her existence began to challenge the success narrative he had built.

  He had always known it was a mistake to leave her alive after the recommendation for "reabsorption." But challenging the System directly? Too risky. He had opted for convenience, for self-preservation. And now... the consequence was knocking on the entire Kingdom's door.

  The Purification Protocol. A drastic measure, but perhaps necessary to contain the chaos Lysa represented. Vexil, as Minister of the Commission of Ethical Registry, would be fundamental in its implementation. He would have access to data, lists, resources. He could direct the searches, perhaps even...

  A chill ran down his spine. Lysa was alive. Strong. Capable of defeating Grenda Malvar and the Circle's elite. She knew what he had done. Knew of his silent betrayal. And she had a list. Was his name on it?

  The Purification could be his salvation — if Lysa was eliminated quickly. But it could also be his ruin. If she survived, if she gained more power in the chaos of the hunt, if she decided to turn her eyes towards the High Capital... towards the Tower of Harmony...

  Vexil stood and walked to the wide window, observing the city below. Runic lights flashed alerts. System Guards were already marching in formation on the broad avenues. Fear was palpable in the air.

  "I must ensure the Protocol is... efficient," he murmured to himself. "And that certain old records are properly archived. Or... edited. The stability of the Kingdom depends on it."

  And his own survival too. He needed to play carefully. Use the Purification to his advantage, ensure the threat of Lysa was neutralized before she could reach him. Order needed to prevail. For the good of the System. And for his own.

  While the powerful reacted in their halls and towers, the news spread like wildfire through the streets, villages, and outposts. Some celebrated the King's firm hand, relieved to see the System acting against the "shadows." Others trembled with fear, knowing the definition of "anomaly" could be dangerously broad, especially in times of crisis. Families hid relatives with low Values or strange abilities. Neighbors eyed neighbors with renewed suspicion. And somewhere, in the shadows, others like Lysa — renegades, forgotten, broken — heard the System's call to arms and knew the only option was to fight, flee, or disappear for good.