The Harlem River returned to calm under the moonlight.
Adrien knelt on the ground, his hands digging deep into the soil.
His body was trembling violently as the receding waves of pleasure left his body.
It was a creator-like experience.
In the end, he was left with an emptiness greater than ever before.
That creative, destructive thrill gave him a momentary soaring, but it also caused him to fall even deeper.
He became a drug addict.
In the saintly period following ecstasy, only endless pain and longing remain.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Hannibal's voice, like the whisper of the devil, sounded behind him.
"When everything returns to nothingness, the emptiness that remains is itself a kind of beauty."
"It's reminding you how unique what you've just created is."
Adrien didn't turn around; he was just panting.
He loathed the feeling, yet he was hopelessly addicted to it.
Hannibal gave him no chance to breathe, and had to imprint the final brand while the iron was red-hot.
"From this day forward, you are no longer Adrien Dubois."
Hannibal's voice was gentle.
"The architect who built dwellings for humanity, only to be betrayed by his own work, died along with that bridge."
"Now, standing here is the messenger who will reveal the true nature of this hypocritical world."
His finger gently touched the new name.
"You are a ' Deconstructionist '."
Deconstructionist.
It elevated all his insane acts of destruction from a morbid outburst to a philosophical level.
He was no longer a madman driven by pain.
He became a Prophet with a lofty "mission".
His mission is to expose all man-made, self-righteous, and self-proclaimed Eternity "structures" to their true nature.
Let the world see that beneath the glamorous exterior, everything is nothing but dust.
The Structuralist looked up, and Flame reignited in his empty eyes.
It was a fervent fire of faith imbued with sacred meaning.
Hannibal's face displayed the most satisfied smile an artist has after completing a masterpiece.
Vought Tower, internal database.
With Motoko Kusanagi's silent manipulation, a brand new file was created.
Code name: Deconstructionist
Threat Level: S
Ability assessment: Unknown upper limit
Behavioral pattern: Structural destruction of large-scale man-made structures with high artistic and philosophical qualities.
Psychological profile: Views destructive behavior as a noble "mission," unpredictable, uncommunicative, and extremely dangerous.
The name was officially born in Vought's vast database.
Hannibal walked into Lynn's office; he had changed back into his elegant dark brown vest.
"Boss."
He bowed slightly.
"The artwork has undergone initial polishing."
"It's ready anytime, we can put it on the booth."
Lynn was standing by the window, looking down at the brightly lit city below.
He didn't turn around, but simply swirled the wine in his glass gently.
"Very good."
In stark contrast to the desolation on the city's outskirts.
Downtown New York City is engulfed in a celebration belonging to Vi.
Her posters covered every billboard in Times Square.
In the photo, her short pink hair sticks up unruly.
A defiant smile played on her lips, against a backdrop of the shattered steel ruins she had destroyed during the dock incident.
"Order requires an Iron Fist."
The advertising slogan is concise and powerful.
On a television talk show, the host exaggeratedly described her as "a rose from Queens, with the fragrance of steel."
Fashion magazines have defined her workwear jacket and metallic accessories as this year's hottest "post-apocalyptic punk" style.
Countless teenagers imitated her hairstyle, sharing videos of themselves waving their fists online with the hashtag #BeLikeVi#.
She enjoyed it all.
Enjoy the sea of Flash as you disembark from the private jet.
Enjoy the curiosity and awe in the eyes of Hollywood stars when you clink glasses with them at a party.
Enjoying the fact that with just a tap of his finger, the Vought team would send him the most beautiful women.
All of this was achieved through her own fists.
She once thought this was what she wanted.
But when it's late at night and everyone is quiet...
When she returned alone to her luxurious suite in the Vought Tower, a sense of emptiness would overwhelm her like a tidal wave.
She would uncontrollably think of the man on the dock.
I recall Frank's eyes, filled with grief and despair.
Have you forgotten who you are?!
Have you forgotten what it feels like to starve?!
She hasn't forgotten.
It is precisely because I haven't forgotten that the pain is even greater.
She secretly used her access privileges to check the whereabouts of Frank and his group.
Official records state that they were sent to Vought's "Center for the Correction and Re-education of Metahuman " because they posed a threat to public safety.
And then, that was it.
Those names vanished completely, as if they had never existed.
Wei's heart, however, was ice-cold.
She defeated the rebels.
Then what?
Were the demands of those dockworkers met?
Have they secured the money for their child's medical expenses?
No.
Nothing has changed.
The problem has not been resolved.
The person who raised the issue was dealt with.
Wei felt a wave of suffocation.
She grabbed a coat, left her room, and knocked on another door.
Starlight opened the door and was somewhat surprised to see Wei's face, which was unusually vulnerable and confused.
"Wei? It's so late, you..."
Can we talk?
Wei's voice was a little hoarse.
The room in the Starlight room was not luxurious, with only some cozy little ornaments and a few potted plants.
Wei slumped onto the soft sofa, burying her face in the cushions, her voice muffled.
"Do you think we did the right thing?"
Starlight was stunned.
She had never seen Wei like this before.
In her memory, Wei will always be that fearless, wild girl who solves everything with her fists.
"The incident at the docks..."
Wei looked up, her eyes filled with deep confusion.
"We defeated the rebels and quelled the so-called Riot."
"But has the problem been solved?"
Or have we simply... buried the problem even deeper?
Starlight looked at her but did not respond.
Because she herself didn't have the answer.
She could only walk over, sit down next to Wei, and gently give her a hug.
"I have no idea."
But at least, we're still together.
Wei didn't say anything, but simply rested her head on Starlight's shoulder.
The encrypted forum of the " Awakened Mutual Aid Society ".
Haozi and all the other members lurking in the Shadow were repeatedly watching the video sent by the anonymous sender.
There was no background music, and no narration.
Only the silent moonlit night, the flowing river, and a magnificent century-old bridge, vanished silently into dust like a dream.
The visual impact and psychological shock of such elegant destruction are a thousand times more terrifying than any explosion or collapse.
Their proud hiding place...
Could those sturdy concrete pipes and abandoned subway stations withstand the power of such an existence?
A sense of despair permeated every corner of the forum.
"... This is something only God could do."
"How... how can we fight against such a monster?"
"Give up, we have no chance of winning."
Just then, the post that was always pinned to the top, with the ID " Prophet," was updated.
"They showed us the power of God."
The post paused for a moment, and just when everyone thought that was all, the second sentence appeared with a chilling force that could freeze one's soul.
"Then, the only thing we can do is slay a god."