(Damien Alcazar's POV, The Sky-God Arena Housing Wing, Lockdown Day 1)
Damien Alcazar was not at all happy to be forced into a lockdown.
In fact, he was positively seething.
The man had tolerated many inconveniences in his career such as diplomatic delays, hostile audits, and the occasional assassination attempt, but being treated like some common civilian under house arrest, locked inside a glorified hotel suite while his schedules burned to ash outside, was a humiliation he could not quietly accept.
As enraged, he stormed toward the door for the third time that hour, boots clicking sharply against the polished tile, as the reinforced panel slid open with a smooth hiss to reveal the same soldier stationed outside.
"You again," Damien snapped, eyes narrowing.
"Listen closely, boy, do you have any idea who I am? I am Damien Alcazar, The patriarch of the renowned Alcazar clan, I run Brughe Industries. I sit on the trade councils of five star systems. I don't have the time to sit on my ass while you lot stumble through your little investigation." Damien complained, however, the soldier did not even so much as blink at his outburst.
This entire floor was filled with snobby guests who liked to complain thrice an hour, however, his orders to not let any of them out were absolute.
"I understand, sir," the young man said, voice filtered through his helmet, as he tried his best to not sound aggressive, "but under military directive 7-A, all civilian guests have been ordered to remain within their quarters. This facility is under lockdown until further notice. If you step out without clearance, I'll be forced to detain you."
"You'll what?" Damien said, his voice rising as a vein throbbed near his temple.
"You'll detain me? For what, exactly? I'm not some riot starter or cult freak! I came here after buying an official ticket to watch a damn tournament, but I had no idea I'd be stuck here like a jackass!
Who's compensating me for my business losses right now, huh? Your mother?" Damien shouted, spittle coming out of his mouth which landed on the soldier's gear, however, he still did not so much as twitch.
"I'm only following orders, sir. Please step back inside."
Damien stared at him fuming, nostrils flaring, but there wasn't much more he could do in this situation other than whine, as although he might be a big fish in a small pond in his own solar system, when compared to the ocean called the Universal Government, he was simply a nobody.
"Damned evil cult bastards…" he muttered, storming back inside, "as if the death toll wasn't enough, they had to drag my schedule down with them too.
If I someday manage to get my hands on one of those damn cult operatives, then I'll personally suffocate a couple of them to death!"
He complained, as he blamed it all on the Evil Cult when he had no-one else to blame for his current inconvenience.
—-----------
Damien Alcazar wasn't the only one who felt pissed at the Evil Cult operatives over the Sky-God Arena attack, as newspapers and media channels across the universe spread the same narrative amongst the masses.
And while the footage of the attack had been too public, too widespread for the government to tamper with the facts of what happened, they still tried to distort the reasoning behind why the Evil Cult did it, to make it more palatable to the masses.
A couple hours after the event, footage clips specially prepared of the explosions, the murders, the golden barrier that sealed Leo underneath, and the chaos that followed, was distributed to select channels.
As that was where the official spin began.
As all Government channels were instructed to run the same story, laced with pre-approved Government propaganda, where every title was marked in bold, reading the same line that said :
"A Black Day at the Sky-God Arena – Evil Cult Strikes the Heart of Our Youth"
The lead paragraph read:
> "In what experts are now calling the deadliest civilian attack on tournament grounds in the last five decades, operatives believed to be affiliated with the extremist organization known as the Evil Cult of Ascension infiltrated the Sky-God Arena security years prior to this event and triggered coordinated acts of terror across all major stands.
Preliminary estimates indicate over 2,000 confirmed casualties and nearly 5,000 more critically injured or missing.
While the motives behind the attack remain unclear, military officials believe it was an attempt to destabilize faith in the circuits, attack the next generation of warriors, and strike fear into the heart of the universal population."
Below the opening summary, casualty heatmaps were already being distributed— holographic models of the arena that now pulsed red in several key quadrants.
One particular quadrant, the eastern elite stands, had suffered the worst damage, with nearly 800 confirmed deaths, many of them being popular warriors or leaders of powerful clans.
But what caught the eyes of readers most weren't the death tolls or the damage estimates, but rather the choice of words printed in every article.
As every single official report declared one singular message as the truth :
> "The Evil Cult intended to destroy our future. But they failed."
Yet despite the universal government refusing to hide the scale of the attack, they made sure to twist the motivation into something palatable. Something heroic. Something that didn't send the general public into fear-driven chaos.
They didn't say the cult had come for anyone specific.
They didn't mention the kidnapping of Darnell Nuna at all.
They didn't say how the cult managed to infiltrate arena security through years of forward planning and planted sleeper agents.
They didn't mention how the safety barrier they deployed had withstood dozens of monarch-level strikes.
Instead, the narrative they presented was something clean and simple as a big time terrorist attack that was caused due to a lapse in security measures.
Tragic, yes.
Brutal, absolutely.
But ultimately, an attack on "hope," and not on the system in particular.
And so, by nightfall, the universe mourned.
Black banners were hung across flagship channels.
An official moment of silence was observed at 1800 hours Galactic Standard Time.
Donations were gathered for the families of the dead.
And calls for revenge and extermination of the Evil Cult echoed louder than ever.
However, behind the scenes, the real mood was less about mourning and more about alarm.
Across encrypted channels, commanders and strategists gathered. Threat assessments were drafted. Cult watchlists were revised and expanded. And several neutral solar systems, ones previously hesitant to join hands with the universal alliance, now pledged military cooperation in the crackdown against the Evil Cult, their resolve hardened by the live footage of burning seats and collapsing stands.
For now, there were no suspects named publicly.
No specific demands issued by the Evil Cult for the Darnell Nuna.
No blame directed toward any particular clan or organization working in tandem with the Evil Cult.
But there was tension.
And the universe…. shaken, bleeding, and unsure seemed to be eagerly waiting for the hammer of judgement to fall, as everyone now waited for the Righteous Alliance's official reaction to this dastardly attack.