System, please just shut up

The square was no longer a celebration—it was a nightmare.

Tables lay overturned, their contents scattered and smashed. Banners, once vibrant, were now torn and trampled underfoot.

Mana-lanterns flickered erratically or lay shattered on the ground, casting a fractured, surreal light over the chaos.

Civilians screamed as they fled in all directions, some tripping over each other, others clutching their children and dragging them through the madness.

And at the heart of it—

Kael stopped cold.

People were attacking each other. Not in drunken brawls or street disputes, but violently, ferally. Their faces were pale and twitching, their eyes glazed with pulsing rings of blue and black. They moved with jerky, unnatural motions, lashing out at anything and everything near them—friend, stranger, even family.

One older man in merchant robes had collapsed, shielding his head, as a younger woman with shriveled fingers wrapped in leaking black tendrils of mana clawed at the air above him.

"What the hell is this…" Jarik whispered, his voice laced with shock.

Kael's eyes locked on the woman's aura—or rather, the chilling absence of one. Something was inside her. Something wrong. Corrupted. Not hers.

"We need to do something," he muttered, already preparing to move.

Jarik nodded grimly. "And we can't just knock them out without risking serious damage." They hesitated for a moment, torn between action and caution.

Then a voice, clear and commanding, cut through the chaos like a blade. "You three with me now."

The three turned, startled.

From the side of the plaza, striding through the mess like she had every right to be there, came a woman clad in fitted black armor.

Her cloak fluttered behind her like smoke, and her face—elegant, composed, and entirely unreadable—remained unnervingly calm despite the carnage. Behind her, casually strolling, was the hooded girl.

She winked at Kael.

"You again?" he muttered under his breath, a mixture of annoyance and disbelief.

Commander Nyra stopped before them and drew a slim baton from her side, flicking it outward with a snap.

It extended into a full-length staff, etched with glowing restraint runes.

"You're not expected to neutralize them," she said evenly, her voice all business. "Contain. Restrain. Prioritize civilians. These aren't enemies, they're victims. You hurt anyone, you answer to me."

Kael didn't know where she came from, but he nodded, already moving into action.

Theo drew a glyph-etched band from his pocket and snapped it onto his wrist.

Jarik cracked his knuckles, a feral grin on his face. "Let's go."

The thief girl stayed behind, crouched on a nearby rooftop, her arms draped over her knees like a spectator to a favorite show.

But her gaze was sharp, interested.

Kael dashed forward, his movements fluid and precise, intercepting a possessed man who was chasing a child. He side-stepped low, his body a blur of motion, sweeping the man's legs with a precise kick.

As the man fell, Kael rolled him over, pressing the heel of his palm to the back of his neck. He channeled a focused burst of his internal energy, a sharp, precise pulse, into a pressure point. The man's muscles instantly relaxed, the frenzied twitching ceasing as the dark aura around him flickered and vanished.

He collapsed into a deep, peaceful unconsciousness, the glowing rings in his eyes fading to a dull grey.

It worked.

But that was just one.

All around them, more people were falling into frenzies. Some turned on each other with animalistic snarls, their hands becoming claws.

Others simply stood, staring at nothing, whispering inaudible chants through blackened teeth.

Theo reached a cluster of three, throwing up a shield rune to protect a group of civilians trying to escape.

The edge of his aura flared with sharp, wind-cut mana as he held the line. "I got these once!" he shouted, his voice strained but determined.

Jarik, ever the brute, moved through the chaos like a hammer—disarming, sweeping, and blocking with brute force, never landing a lethal blow.

He wasn't subtle, but he was efficient.

Kael glanced back briefly.

Commander Nyra was already walking directly toward the center of the chaos, untouched. It was as if the crowd parted before her, the possessed individuals either ignoring her or actively avoiding her presence.

Beside her, the thief girl finally stood, stretching her arms over her head like she'd just woken from a nap.

"Guess I should help," she murmured, a smirk playing on her lips. She stepped off the rooftop and floated down, landing gently beside Kael without a sound.

She spun, her sleeves flicking back as twin disks of golden light formed on her palms. They spun like chakrams, shimmering with mana.

"Let's see how well you can really fight, Swordless," she teased, before darting forward with impossible grace. She flitted between civilians, her speed a blur, tagging them with glowing, circular seals of suppression that sapped the corrupting energy from their bodies.

The moment a seal was placed, the victim would slump, unconscious but unharmed.

Kael grunted, sidestepping a crazed woman before neutralizing her with his palm technique. "Stop calling me that," he muttered, his focus absolute.

"Then get your sword next time," she called back, her voice light with amusement as she darted away.

They worked together in the swirl of chaos—Kael, Theo, Jarik, the commander, and the girl who refused to give her name.

The possessed fell one by one, their bodies limp but their lives saved. As time passed, more guards and faction members began to arrive, helping to contain the situation, restrain the afflicted, and tend to the injured.

But even as the square began to settle—even as the last of the afflicted collapsed into exhausted unconsciousness or was safely restrained—a single, lingering question began to rise through all of them like smoke curling into the sky:

What hell just happened?

And more importantly—

Why now?

******

As the chaos subsided in the central plaza of District Six, a darker truth began to ripple through the city.

This corruption was not an isolated incident.

In the bustling markets of District Two, screams of terror rang out as shopkeepers turned on their customers, their mana-signatures twisting into something unrecognizable.

In the quiet, scholarly spires of District Four, students with glowing, corrupted eyes shattered ancient artifacts and turned their magics against their mentors. Even in the gilded halls of District One, the heart of the city's power, panicked reports flooded the comms.

Guards and officials, their faces a mask of fear, described a sudden, inexplicable madness gripping the populace.

Elordia, a city of magic and order, was succumbing to a plague of raw, untamed chaos.

The synchronized attacks were not just random outbursts; they were a coordinated, city-wide strike, an invisible hand pulling the strings of the entire populace, turning neighbor against neighbor, friend against friend.

This was no simple riot; it was the start of an invasion from within. The whispers began to spread among the remaining sane, a single, terrifying thought:

Was it over.....or had it just begun.