> "CODE RED! CODE RED! POSSIBLE INVASION. ESTIMATED ARRIVAL IN 8 MINUTES AND 30 SECONDS."
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Inside the shiny white conference room located deep beneath the central dome of Capital Sigma (the heart of the Perfect Society), a dozen high-ranking officials had gathered.
The walls glowed with soft white-blue light, and the table in the center was a long slab of obsidian steel, untouched by time. At the head of the room stood a statue, silent and revered, of a man holding a book in one hand and a pen in the other.
The Father of Perfection: The Architect.
Every official entering bowed slightly toward the statue, offering a wordless prayer or acknowledgment.
Even now, long after his disappearance, his presence still lingered. His contribution and ideology etched into their minds like scripture.
