The Omega and The Arrogant Alpha
Then again, slower.
The coalition’s central node is dark.
Not offline. Disbanded.
Messages that used to echo across regions at precise intervals have gone quiet. The synchronized phrasing is gone. What remains is scattered, uncoordinated, local. Manageable.
“They pulled out,” I say quietly.
Ben leans closer, eyes scanning the screen. “Or someone pulled them.”
“Either way,” I reply, “they’re done.”
We don’t celebrate. There’s nothing to celebrate about people realizing they lost. But the tension drains anyway, slow and undeniable, like a held breath finally released.
Bab Populer