Yutai, sat slumped in the iron chair, the rough leather straps biting into his wrist’s bruised skin. He kept his chin down, dark strands of sweat-clumped hair veiling the fresh cuts along his cheek and brow.

  The room was little more than a concrete box, dimly lit by a single bulb that buzzed overhead. The air stank of sweat and stale blood and seeped into his lungs with every breath.

  He tried to remember the names of the Rioters who had taken turns in the room so far.

  Ming. Tsoto. Katsu? No, Katsui. Something like that. The other guy was Jachi. And of course, Senior Rioter Hung.

  I thought he’d be different… Looks like Tao was right all along.

  Yutai’s eyes fluttered close as he drifted towards the sleep that had been withheld from him for so long.

  SMACK!

  He recoiled from the harsh slap, stray strands sticking to his cheeks. He shivered, heaved and blinked, fighting to keep his eyelids open.

  ‘You’re not getting a second of rest until you tell us where the other wiretaps are!’ bellowed the man standing in front of him. Yutai guessed that this was Rioter Tsoto, pieced together from names he had overheard through the thin wall in front of him. No one knew Yutai had been born with hearing impairments, corrected by cochlear implants and later upgraded with advanced Kingmaker technology.

  Yutai looked up at the Rioter and scrunched his nose and puckered his lips at him. Anticipating another backhand, he clenched his bound fists.

  SMACK!

  The impact sent the Kingmaker’s head whipping in the opposite direction.

  ‘Having fun yet?!’

  Yutai slowly straightened back up, his face shadowed under his hair. ‘Think my face prefers Ming’s soft hands… Call her over, Tsoto.’

  His interrogator’s eyes widened.

  ‘That’s right,’ Yutai chuckled. ‘Katsui, Ming, Jachi, Hung… and you, Tsoto. Those are the names I’m taking back to Yu once I’m out. You ever heard of lingchi? You dangdexues don’t realise what you’ve done!’

  ‘Oh yeah?!’

  Yutai caught the blur of motion out of the corner of his eye before his world went dark.

  The door to the interrogation room creaked open, pulling the Rioter’s attention toward it.

  ‘All right, that’s enough, brother,’ came a voice from outside. ‘Go back inside. I’ll take over. I’ve contacted them, he’ll be here shortly.’

  Tsoto nodded, drawing in a long, shaky breath as he swiped the sweat from his brow. His eyes darted away, jaw tightening as he walked towards the door.

  ‘Sorry, Hung. Tried my best, but the bastard won’t say anything.’

  Hung held the door open as the Rioter exited past him, his face low.

  ‘Rest,’ Hung told him. ‘We’ve been at this for nearly 20 hours.’

  Tsoto gave a weary nod and moved down the dim corridor, slipping through another door into the narrow observation room behind the interrogation wall.

  Hung locked the interrogation room door and approached the battered Kingmaker on the metal chair, whose head was hanging to the side. He lifted up Yutai’s chin and the bright light overhead illuminated the man’s pale, bruised face, split lip, cut brow, and the patches of yellow, green and purple all over his cheek and jaw. We really did a number on him, Hung thought.

  Memories of the long interrogation played back in Hung’s mind. The early hours were especially vivid – they had tried persuasion, only to face Yutai’s nonstop taunts. Ming, frustrated and on edge, had been the first to succumb to anger when he hurled a racial slur at her.

  What’s a pretty little dangdexue doing men’s work for?

  Her sudden, impulsive punch to Yutai’s gut marked their biggest mistake.

  Finally! he recalled Yutai shouting. The Kingmaker howled with laughter, mocking her and the others listening with the fact that they were now doomed by federal Kowlooni law.

  Assaulting the Emperor’s personal enforcers was more than a capital offence; the punishments were designed to remind the entire underground world what happened to those who crossed the Yaozhi dynasty.

  Since that fatal lapse, the five Rioters responsible for arresting the Kingmaker found themselves entangled in an inescapable web of choices and consequences. Release Yutai, and the wrath of the Yaozhi Dynasty would immediately descend upon them. Capital punishment was guaranteed; it was only a matter of how painful it’d be for all of them.

  Some of the others don’t want to let him go at all. Just kill him or lock him away forever. Sure, it’d save us five from the Emperor learning our names, but then what? The entire district would bear the brunt of the Yaozhis’ fury instead.

  Hung shook his head. I’d allow myself and every Rioter to die twenty times over if it meant avoiding a second rebellion.

  He clenched his jaw. Seeing they couldn’t be executed twice, he had pushed his Rioters to intensify their interrogations from the moment of that first strike. From simple beatings to torture, nothing was off the table. I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t find out anyone else’s name.

  In this terrifying stand-off, Hung, the Rioters, and even Yutai were all aware of the same truth – over the course of the 20-hour interrogation, this Kingmaker had become the master of this show.

  Still holding Yutai’s chin, Hung let out a weary sigh. How did he even learn our names? He should’ve only known mine.

  He turned Yutai’s head to the left to inspect his ear as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small, circular device. When he waved it in front of Yutai’s ear, it flashed red.

  It’s detecting an implant inside his ear canal. So he heard us speak behind the wall, learned all our names. Damn that Ming! I can’t believe she let herself be baited by the Kingmaker. If it all goes to hell, everyone involved tonight will be executed and I’ll be exiled to No Man’s Land. I should’ve taken more precautions!

  Hung let go of Yutai’s head and it slumped back down. He turned and faced the wall behind him. ‘The King can hear all conversation from the observation room. He’s got hearing enhancements.’

  ‘We’re way in over our heads, Hung,’ a soft, concerned voice came from the other side.

  ‘Just stay quiet. Keep observing him and don’t talk.’

  Hung turned back around, his eyes riveting on the unconscious Kingmaker, and moved swiftly to snatch a small, metal stool from the corner of the room. It scraped across the worn floor as he positioned it in front of Yutai and sat down with his arms crossed.

  He stared at the prisoner, analysing his face as if the answers he was looking for could be found in the maze of bruises.

  The sight was chilling. It was the symbolism. A Kingmaker, the very embodiment of strength and authority, one of the legendary warriors in black and gold, bound, beaten, and incapacitated. I once dreamed of becoming a Kingmaker myself, Hung thought. I used to think they were invincible.

  The knowledge that he was the one responsible for reducing this mythical warrior to such a state… his gut writhed with terror knwoing the consequences were yet to come. Why bother blaming Ming for dooming us all? It was me who unleashed this unending nightmare!

  ‘I’ve got to wake him up now. Every second is precious,’ Hung muttered under his breath. He bent down and released two small latches at the base of the chair’s front legs. Rising to his feet, he carefully pushed the chair back, tilting it to a 75-degree recline. Yutai’s head lolled off the edge of the backrest, his hair hanging down, his whole body exposed and vulnerable.

  ‘Bring me the bucket, Jachi,’ Hung called out.

  A short time later, another Rioter came through the door lugging a plastic bucket filled with water and clutching a damp towel. He placed the bucket next to the interrogation chair, draped the towel over Yutai’s face and quietly left the room.

  Hung hesitated a moment and took a deep breath as he watched Yutai, oblivious and snoring.

  He finally gripped the bucket and discharged its contents over Yutai’s face in a violent deluge.

  Yutai jolted awake, convulsing in a frenzy, his desperate cries muffled by the suffocating rush of water. He clutched the armrests as if they were his only lifebuoys in a raging sea. The sensation of drowning consumed him, filling his lungs with water as though an invisible hand had locked his head beneath the surface.

  Finally, the merciless downpour ceased. Hung grabbed the tilted interrogation chair by the armrest and yanked it back up. The drenched towel flopped onto Yutai’s lap.

  ‘ARGH!!’ Yutai gasped as water expelled from his nose and mouth, his body wracked with shivers, spraying water from his hair onto Hung. Nausea churned within him, and his head remained slumped as he caught his breath. He was too exhausted to check which Rioter stood in front of him this time. Now knowing all their names and faces, distinctions between his torturers didn’t matter. The Emperor would soon hand him their heads.

  Hung tilted Yutai’s face up by the chin to look at him once more. Bright light from above shone brightly through Yutai’s closed eyes, his sight flushed reddish orange through his eyelids.

  ‘Hung…? Is that… you?’ Yutai’s voice was strained, punctuated by pauses as he grappled for breath. ‘Only my childhood… friend would be so gentle… not pull my hair… like the others,’ Yutai mumbled, holding back a grin as he peaked at him through a single eye.

  The senior Rioter was locked staring back at him, but Yutai pulled a grin seeing he guessed correct.

  He dropped Yutai’s head and it slumped back down, but the Kingmaker just laughed.

  Pacing back and forth in the dim room, Hung spoke softly to Yutai. ‘You know, the last time we had to do this to a prisoner was during the rebellions. The South is unfamiliar with such brutal tactics. We can fight, kill, sure, but to maime a living person for some gain, that isn’t something we do often.’

  ‘Is that why you guys are so fucking ass at this shit?! I haven’t even felt compelled to talk!’

  Yutai laughed as though this entire interrogation had been the funniest experience he’d had in a while. Hung ignored him and continued his monologue, his tone distant.

  ‘Yutai, do you remember that joint operation you Kingmakers and the Ji Sia carried out in District Yau last cycle? Operation Searchlight?’

  ‘How can I forget? Probably the best fuck you we could’ve given you Yangs. I can say that now, right? You Rioter bastards are all Yangs? Having betrayed the hands that fed you?’

  Hung dragged his metal stool closer and sat down, his face inches away from Yutai’s. The tension grew as he leaned in, his expression hardening.

  ‘You Kingmakers,’ Hung began, his voice low and simmering with fury, ‘seem to have no concept of the word injustice. So let me educate you what it means.’

  With a frown, Yutai’s eyes narrowed on his interrogator. Despite his restraints, he sat as straight as his bindings allowed, meeting Hung’s glare.

  ‘Injustice is the Ji Sia and Kingmakers colluding to blockade the largest southern diaspora in District Yau. A thriving community living there for countless generations turned into an open-air prison overnight.’

  With a clenched jaw, Yutai cut in. ‘Those South Kowlooni communities in Yau were a hotbed of Yang operations. We had no choice.’

  Hung’s lip curled, but he leaned even closer and continued. ‘Injustice is making 100,000 arrests with no trials or due processes. Dragged from their homes and thrown into processing camps. Families torn apart, no contact with loved ones, no hope of being heard. Every single one of them a southerner, assumed to be Yang by way of just existing.’

  ‘They were all sympaths,’ Yutai shot back. ‘The Yang were a growing force. We had to act fast to protect Central Kowloon.’

  ‘Each prisoner was locked in a cell and brutalised every cycle.’

  Yutai tilted his head back and exhaled through his nose. ‘I can relate,’ he replied, looking around the interrogation room and clenching his bound fists on the armrest.

  ‘Injustice,’ Hung continued, his voice quivering with anger, ‘is the Luen siblings trying to hide the evidence of their crimes by deporting all 100,000 southerners on a death march down towards Ho Man Ting. Injustice is making sure they go down the most circuitous path, through the vilest and most dangerous areas of Kowloon across five districts, all the while keeping them perpetually starved. Injustice is knowing that the 8,000 that barely made it to Ho Man Ting was all part of the plan.’

  ‘You Yang made those figures up,’ Yutai’s response came cold and sharp. ‘The deportation had minimal casualties—’

  ‘DIRTY LIAR!!’ Hung erupted with a finger a hair’s width from Yutai’s face, springing from his stool so fast that it tipped over behind him. ‘You know what you did! Every single fucking detail is in a Kingmaker report in your goddamn tower!’

  ‘Oh, spare me the details, friend!’ Yutai interrupted. ‘You’ll be finding out what’s inside the tower soon enough!’

  Hung stared at Yutai. ‘You don’t even care, do you?’

  ‘Why don’t you tell me what happened after Operation Searchlight?’ Yutai said after brief silence. ‘Did you Yang prance around the Memorial Pipes holding processions for your dead? Don’t cut your little sermon on injustice short for me. Tell me what happened next!’

  ‘Yes, the Yang planned their retaliation. We knew you Kingmakers were planning to do the same to other southern diasporas in Central Kowloon. The Yau bombings was necessary to prevent genocide from happening again.’

  Yutai let out a mirthless laugh. ‘Ah. So no grand lecture on injustice after all. Pity.’

  ‘Say what you want, but after the attack, Operation Searchlight ceased, and all focus was taken away from innocent southerners in Ji Sia—’

  ‘Death tolls, Hung, tell me the fucking death toll,’ Yuta strained through a weary squint, wrestling with a migraine that threatened to splinter his thoughts.

  But Hung shook his head vehemently. ‘And what about Operation Searchlight’s death toll? Do you even know how many South Kowlooni’s died during the rebellion? What about the ongoing famine in the East? How many have died from that, huh? You want to go down that route?’

  Yutai scoffed. ‘You’ve got every death toll statistic memorised but the one you guys caused. Bah, you terrorists bore me. You won’t admit it, but the Yau Bombings make even you uncomfortable. We own Operation Searchlight; every person we felt necessary to hurt, we did. Now, your turn. Own up to the suffering you caused, for every innocent mother, father, and child you killed. Pay your penance.’

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Hung’s sneer deepened. ‘You Kings are all tyrants. Still pretending as though every innocent southerners are militants—’

  ‘INNOCENT?!’ Yutai’s face contorted with fury. ‘The sheer lust for violence and hatred you southerners have against us is reason enough to strip all innocence from you! I could pluck ten random southerners off the streets, and I bet eight would leap at the chance to volunteer for another suicide attack in the core districts! Every effective leader knows that to crush enemy influence, you pull out the grass roots. That’s exactly what Operation Searchlight was about! The moment you Yang started mingling with civilians, donning plain clothes and operating out of ordinary homes, you turned every civilian into a potential militant, terrorist, whatever you want to call it! What else were we supposed to do?! Tell me, Yang, tell me! What do you do when you southern village idiots swarm to protect their Yang?!’

  ‘NO!’ Hung’s scream shattered the air. ‘You’re missing the fucking point, Yutai! It’s not about playing a death toll competition! You Kingmakers created the Yang! You ensure we continue to exist! Yes, innocents died during the Yau bombings, but you’re overlooking one crucial question; why it happened. Those who volunteered for the bombings were the children of the families you people murdered during the rebellions!’

  The overhead lights flickered, the subtle clicking and dull pops prompting Yutai to look up at it. Then, the knob of the door in the right corner rattled for a split second, a harsh metallic sound that echoed through the silent room. Hung looked back and the heavy metal door creaked open ever so slightly, unleashing a draft of cool air that cut through the humidity of the room. Hung turned around to face it. The entrance of this unwelcome breeze carried with it a foreboding chill that settled in Yutai’s gut.

  He leaned back in his chair to try and see who opened the door. It was only open by a crack, so he craned his neck right, squinting into the shadowy slice of the unknown beyond the room.

  Who is that?

  He thought he could see someone standing in the darkness, staring at him. As his eyes focused, he saw what looked like a… A white face?

  Long canines curling out of its mouth in an ear-to-ear grin. What the fuck is that?!

  Hung walked towards the door, cutting off Yutai’s line of sight, but Yutai’s breath had already caught in his throat, his pupils flared, his mind in disbelief. Whatever face he saw outside looked both human and inhuman at once.

  In an abrupt moment, Hung wrenched open the door, disappeared through it, and slammed it shut in one swift motion, leaving Yutai alone in the room.

  That couldn’t have been him. Whose face did I just see? What in Light’s name is going on? Where the hell did Hung go?!

  In the desolate room, a vacuum of emptiness engulfed Yutai. As the minutes stretched, his nerves gradually calmed. After 20 hours, he was alone.

  I must have hallucinated whatever I saw. I’ve been in here for so long, it’s only normal.

  Yutai strained against his bonds, but the struggle was futile against the leather that anchored him to the armrests. The room, stripped of any comforting distraction, bore witness to his vulnerability. His iconic trench coat and peaked cap, symbols of authority and identity, had been stripped away, leaving him exposed in his shirt, baggy pants, and boots. The only thing left resembling his uniform was the red sash around his waist.

  The silence hung thick and his breaths were loud in his ears. Devoid of the rhythmic ticking of a clock, time itself seemed to cease, elongating the moments into an endless limbo.

  Click.

  The light over Yutai’s head turned off, darkness shrouding the Kingmaker. A sensory abyss followed, which intensified the disorientation. It was a calculated move, a cruel gambit aimed at blurring the boundaries between reality and hallucination.

  Are they trying the sensory deprivation route? Yutai wondered.

  Suddenly, his sharp hearing picked up the subtle vibrations of ventilation systems turning on. Within a few minutes, a chill crept over his skin, raising goosebumps along his arms. Minutes dragged by, the air growing steadily more biting, until his breaths came out in shallow puffs and his muscles tightened into shivers that wouldn’t stop. Still the cold deepened, needling through cloth and skin as if seeking out his bones underneath.

  I know this torture tactic. Strip away my sight, get me hypothermic. The room itself will be my next interrogator. Luckily, I’ve been trained to withstand torture like this.

  Yutai steadied his breathing and closed his eyes, though the darkness was so deep that it made no difference whether they were open or shut.

  Yet, in the absence of his vision, his other senses surged to the forefront. His breathing became a pendulum and his heartbeat a metronome.

  Du-doop. Du-doop. Du-doop. Du-doop. Du-doop.

  With his breathing steady, Yutai could hear his heartbeat become louder and clearer. His body temperature increased with the maddening cadence of his heart, his only weapon against the relentless psychological warfare being waged against him. Yutai started to feel warmer, sweat even, anchoring himself to the sound of his heart. By doing so, he focused his mind on controlling his body’s vital functions, just enough to keep his consciousness occupied and his body warm.

  Du-doop. Du-doop. Du-doop. Du-doop. Du—

  But control proved an illusion; Yutai twitched as an unwelcome palm pressed firmly against the left side of his chest, as if wishing to also feel his heartbeat. The abrupt intrusion sent shockwaves of terror through him, his heart convulsing in erratic protest, breaking its rhythm.

  ‘Who’s there?!’ Yutai’s demand cut through the darkness, the soundproofed room not even granting him the mercy of an echo. His head spun left and right in the pitch-black, incredulous that someone had managed to enter the room without him hearing it. Between the total silence and Yutai’s modified cochlear implant, there was no plausible explanation as to how there was a second person in the room and why a human palm was currently pressed against his chest. Yet, the pressure of the palm persisted.

  Has the room already started making me hallucinate?! Impossible!

  ‘Show yourself! NOW!’ Yutai’s second demand reverberated with anxiety. The restraints pressed tight against his wrists as he struggled to move his arms.

  At last, the presence spoke soft and unhurried, like a gentle hand that was slowly tightening around Yutai’s throat.

  ‘I’ve always wondered how you Kingmakers raise your metabolism at will. Over the last few minutes, your resting heart rate has increased to the level of someone doing intense cardiovascular exercise with… mere breathing exercises?’ There was a slight pause. ‘I’m impressed. I get why people think you people aren’t human. Now I feel it rising once more… but I don’t think it is voluntary this time.’

  Yutai’s breath came short and fast. He knew whose voice it was. The Ibilis was here in the room with him. His veins throbbed as though his blood had thickened and slowed to a sluggish crawl.

  The Ibilis continued. ‘But you, Praefect Yutai. You are the first Kingmaker I’ve had the honour to fight. Your swift defeat at my hands validated what I’ve sought to prove for a long time. That the are Kingmakers human. How does it feel? Knowing the continual hubris of your leadership has failed to halt our movement? I wonder… Are the Kingmakers starting to feel powerless against us?’

  The question hung in the dark, unanswered.

  ‘How does it feel knowing that a second bombing could happen at any moment?’ the voice asked once more. ‘Maybe your old folks will be out shopping that day. Perhaps… Little Pangfua will be on his way home from school. Can you imagine their final moments, crushed under tons of rubble? Will they come to hate the Emperor as much as we do? For failing to protect us? Starting to feel powerless, Kingmaker?’

  At the invocation of his parents and the utterance of his young brother’s name, Yutai’s worst nightmare coiled around his mind like a snake. His chest was constricted with panic, and his palms ached from how tightly he was gripping the armrest. The Ibilis seemed almost omnipresent in the room, a voice with no body, a human with no soul.

  The monster was right about one thing; Yutai was feeling helpless.

  ‘How does it make you feel, Yutai, to know that even if I were to release you right now, healing every wound, remedying every ounce of your fatigue, you would still be powerless against me? As we’ve both seen, you cannot kill me. But I can kill you.’

  Despite his fear, Yutai finally mustered the courage to defy the Ibilis’s challenge.

  ‘Release me, I dare you!’ he shouted as his voice cracked. ‘I’ll end this once and for all, Mogwei!’

  The response was instantaneous, an ominous click, a sound that resonated with finality. The once-taut bound leather, shackling his wrists and ankles to the cold metal chair, loosened its grip. His hands and feet tingled at the sudden revitalisation of his circulation.

  Then, the light switched on.

  Click.

  The Ibilis’s regal silhouette, enveloped in a crimson hood and robes bound tightly by milky-white armour that covered his chest and abdomen, loomed over Yutai like the horrific Demiurge angel from the Book of Lumen.

  Yutai sat there in silence, gazing up at the tall figure who waited for him to answer his challenge. All physical constraints on him had been severed, yet the psychological fetters, woven from the threads of paranoia and anxiety, held the Kingmaker in a vice-like grip. His shackles were no longer leather – they were fear. Through the white mask that concealed the Ibilis’s visage, jet-black eyes surveyed Yutai, unblinking and flinty, like a scientist observing a rodent, correct in his hypothesis.

  A full, silent minute passed. Yutai did not move a muscle, nor make a sound.

  ‘I know you feel that, Yutai. The urge for action, to escape the suffocating grip of paralysis, yet the very essence of movement eludes you. That is the taste of powerlessness – the bitter draught every soul swallows before they transform into something new. The powerlessness of witnessing deaths in the millions. The kidnapping of your children, the destruction of your home, your history. Us Yang… We’ve crossed the threshold of powerlessness many times over. The Tien Tao Rioters have crossed the threshold of powerlessness. Every victim of Operation Searchlight… their loved ones have crossed the threshold of powerlessness. When you cross the threshold, you cease being weak and become the strongest you can ever be. Powerlessness precedes power.’

  All Yutai could do was stare. He tried to look indifferent, like someone unmoved by what they had just heard. But he knew the reality of the situation; he was being invited to challenge the greatest evil among the Yang, and all he could do was stare.

  ‘Now, it’s your turn to feel powerless. The Luens felt it when their precious groundscrapers went up in flames. The East feels more powerless than they do hungry. What do you think will happen when these people take their first peek outside their cage? What will you do, Yutai, when you realise you’re the only one standing in their way? Will you cross the threshold with them? Or will you find comfort in your powerlessness?’

  ‘Who are you?’ Yutai asked quietly.

  The Ibilis stayed quiet.

  Click.

  And just like that, the overhead lights switched back off, masking the Ibilis’s presence again. Not even the subtle sounds of breathing betrayed him. But from somewhere within the dark shadows enveloping the room, his menacing voice resounded once more.

  ‘My identity is as inconsequential as the clothes that adorn my back. Those obsessed with my name will always fail to understand the gravity of our cause. Run, Yutai. Run straight to your beloved tower of ivory and never set foot in the South again. Ho Man Ting is making its first move. More will follow. I wait patiently to see what the enemies of Kowloon do next.’

  The room filled with silence amidst the darkness. Yutai waited for the Ibilis to continue his speech, yet nothing came. Seconds became minutes in total silence, and Yutai assumed the Ibilis was still standing before him. But he didn’t dare breathe a single word until the silence was broken by footsteps running down the hallway outside. Dozens of boots thundered past, gear clinking and voices barking orders, their sounds approaching the interrogation room, and then away from it. Then, distant sirens rang from outside the fort.

  Yutai mustered the courage to speak once more.

  ‘Hello?’ he shouted.

  No response. ‘Is anyone there?’

  Yutai still sat in the darkness. His hands and feet were still in the same position, as if bound. He had completely forgotten they were free when he went to scratch his nose and actually reached it. Then, Yutai reached out in the darkness in front of him, expecting to feel the Ibilis’s armour and robes. But his fingers only met air.

  Twisting in his seat to face the rear, Yutai waved his arm behind the backrest to check for anyone standing there. Finally, he confirmed he truly was alone. He sat there for a minute longer, his face buried in his palms, sucking in deep breaths of relief.

  Thank the Light. He’s gone. He’s gone.

  Finally, Yutai forced himself out of the chair, his aching legs and throbbing ribcage making every movement a struggle. Clutching his side, he limped out of the suffocating confines of the pitch-black room, using his hand to brace himself against the wall for support, desperate to escape the cursed walls of the fort. Yutai felt like he was spiralling up and out of a hellish nightmare. Each step carried residual fear from his encounter with the Ibilis.

  The air vibrated with urgency as siren wails continued to resonate from the outside, growing in volume as Yutai headed towards the exit. Emerging on the ground floor of the fortress, he plunged into a surreal scene. Tien Tao Rioters, clad in full, black Rioter gear, streamed towards the exit as if they were answering a summon from somewhere in the city.

  ‘Ho Man Ting has made its first move—’

  The Ibilis’s words echoed in Yutai’s mind, connecting the dots around him. What’s their first move? Where are they mobilising to? he wondered. However, the Rioters who ran past Yutai did nothing, as if expecting the Kingmaker to be leaving with them, too.

  Are they really going to let me just run home?

  Outside, the streets of Ho Man Ting transformed into a maelstrom of chaos, an uproar motivated by mass hysteria and marching protesters, whose demands passed over Yutai’s head. His objective remained unwavering: locate the closest King Rail. Even without his holocommunicator, he recalled how to get there. In Ho Man Ting City, the docking port was situated inside the Yu Embassy, a controversial building here in South Kowloon, but the only place where the Kingmakers could safely keep a King Rail docking port.

  As Yutai strode down the street toward the embassy on the 32nd level of a groundscraper, the hysterical arcade streets sprawled as far as he could visibly see. Stripped of his iconic Kingmaker outerwear, he merged with the crowd. Over various speakers from shops and homes, a single message was looping over and over:

  “Ho Man Ting is now under strict Tien Tao martial-law: any non-southern gangster stationed around the district, including all Kingmakers, are to leave the district effective immediately. Compliance with the Tien Tao is not optional!”

  Residents, shopkeepers, and bewildered Ho Man Ting gangsters emerged onto the arcade streets, looking around with their mouths agape. But as they listened to the message coming from the speakers, many picked up arms and began to take to the streets with fiery patriotism. The Ibilis’s haunting final words began to make sense. Ho Man Ting’s first move is to break away from the Unification Pact, Yutai figured, but to what end? Emperor Puyin will not hesitate to dispatch Kingmakers to regicide Lord Xinjian and replace him with someone more loyal!

  The mobs around him grew in size and energy. Southerners surged past Yutai, eyes alight with frenzy, fists gripping pipes and blades that swung dangerously close as they roared for vengeance. His heart sank as men, women, and even young children joined the fervour, chanting pro-South Kowlooni slogans and calling for the expulsion of non-southerners from the district. Yutai kept his head low, heart easing as the mob swept past without a second glance. Had he been wearing his cap and trench coat, they’d have spotted him instantly and made him the next target in this swelling tide of nationalism.

  Yutai reached the street that led to the Yau embassy, but he was met with yet another hurdle. A formidable mass of hundreds, their faces concealed, brandished an arsenal of blunt and sharp weapons, shouting and banging against the embassy walls mercilessly as they attempted to breach the structure.

  Fuck! They’re trying to get to the embassy workers inside!

  Yutai ran headfirst into the angry crowds, their shouts now coherent to his ears,

  ‘No more bondage! Skin our captors!’

  Yutai grappled with a profound dilemma. He already possessed the key for the embassy – a universal chip that opened every building housing the King Rail docking port. But any of the mob entering behind him would be able to unleash their fury on those trapped inside. The weight of responsibility weighed down on the Kingmaker, and he realised the only solution was to somehow sneak inside and evacuate the embassy staff with him on the King Rail.

  Gritting his teeth, Yutai ran towards the mob and pushed through the throng to the forefront, where southerners were bashing fortified doors and windows with their fists and weapons.

  Suddenly, he had an idea – If I can override the magnetic locks of the front doors partially, slide in, and secure the door from the other side, no one else will be able to follow. But I must be swift.

  A burly man wielding a club assaulted the main door. Yutai, pretending to be a member of the angered mob, slipped in beside the man and joined in by kicking it as well. The large man stopped for a moment to glance down at Yutai, nodded, and resumed clubbing the door. Yutai made sure his long, wavy hair obscured his face. Even if his attire didn’t betray his foreign status, his pale skin just might.

  Exploiting the chaos, Yutai began rubbing the base of his palm to activate the subdermal magnets concealed beneath his skin. Waving his palm over the door, he gauged the location of the magnetic locks. However, for partial access, he needed to unlock only two of the three mechanisms securing every magnetic-sealed door.

  A faint click echoed through the violent atmosphere, inaudible if it weren’t for Yutai’s cochlear implants – one, and then another. The door groaned as Yutai repeatedly kicked the last working magnet, until there was a narrow passage inside.

  Yutai quickly darted through, several of the mob around him gasping at the unexpected breach. They began cramming their bodies through the small gap just as Yutai made it to the other side. Bodies pressed through the door, clamouring to follow, but Yutai kicked each of them back, repelling the embassy’s invaders. But they kept coming. Yutai rubbed the base of his palm again and again, then frantically waved it near the locks once more to seal the door shut.

  Amidst the chaos, another intruder was already halfway through. Yutai, fuelled by desperation, delivered a forceful kick, sending the person flying back. Another arm extended, poised to breach the narrowing gap. Yutai kicked the forearm, cleanly snapping it backwards at the elbow before the person was yanked back with a shriek. Yutai continued desperately rubbing his palm to get the magnets to relock the door.

  Come on, come on! Piece of shit implant! Work!

  Inch by inch, the door groaned shut, protestors quickly pulling their arms and legs back before they were crushed. All outside sounds were reduced to a muffled echo.

  Yutai ran through the empty lobby of the embassy. It was dark, with small amounts of light entering through the boarded windows.

  ‘Hello? Is there anyone in here?’ His voice, a solitary echo in the desolate building, heightened the ominous silence that enveloped him.

  He ran upstairs to where the King Rail would be. Yutai wondered if the staff had all evacuated as soon as they heard the violent uprising on the streets.

  Upon reaching the back offices, Yutai stumbled upon a scene that froze him in his tracks. Fifteen embassy workers, bound and gagged, were arranged in a circle on swivel chairs, their collective backs against each other. Without hesitation, Yutai rushed to liberate them, his focus solely on their safety. As he approached the first woman, she shook her head desperately and grunted at him.

  A deafening thud resonated as the office door slammed shut. In an instant, Yutai found himself encircled by ten figures clad in dark attire, their faces obscured by hoods and masks.

  The Yangs had him cornered.

  Yutai reeled back and went into his defensive forms; fists poised, his right knee lifted and his feet light. He pivoted left and right to keep the encircling Yang within his sight.

  Shit! I’m in trouble!

  Shadows clung to the walls of the room as one of the figures stepped forward. Yutai took a cautionary step back with his fists raised but bumped into one of the tied-up workers behind him.

  The Yang who stepped forward, a young woman, spoke with her head held high.

  ‘Kingmaker! Lower your guard, for today Mogwei has decreed that you bear these workers on your rail and carry them away from the south. They are not to return, and the same holds true for you.’ Her palm danced in the air, signalling the others to release the captive office workers. They sprang into action.

  ‘Why are you helping me escape?’ Yutai questioned, his gaze probing the shadows for any sign of deceit.

  ‘Violence need not claim unnecessary lives. Make no mistake, there will be death, but only for those who deny Dong’s true prophecy.’

  All of the workers were untied, men and women who had homes and families in the various Central districts of Kowloon. The Yangs encircled the room, silent guards watching Yutai lead the workers to the rail. Yutai guided them toward the imposing red door at the final row of offices, unlocking it with a discreet chip from his pocket. The heavy, well-reinforced door slowly heaved open.

  Yutai waved every office worker inside the door and into the port. He looked back and nodded to the Yangs with reluctant gratitude. Then he slipped through and hailed the Rail, hearing the constant loop of the Rioters’ message echo through the windows and walls.

  The fight was no longer coming to them. It was already knocking on their door.