Northern Syria
House Of NS
The endorsement file, considered the central document guiding international policy on Northern Syria and often seen as a blueprint for regional and local authoritarian governance was entrusted to the Northern Syria Police (NSP), the region's enforcement bureau. According to law, whoever is designated caretaker of this file holds the power to govern Northern Syria in the event the current president can no longer lead.
However, chaos erupted when the militant group known as the Hot-Headed Rebellion Army (HHRA) launched a brutal attack on an NSP barracks, killing the file's caretaker. The loss threw the region into confusion and uncertainty, with no clear successor or plan for leadership.
Rumors began to spread some claimed the attackers were possessed or had gone mad, and others feared the file may have ended up in the hands of an unsuspecting civilian.
In response, the Northern Syria Army (NSA) issued a stark ultimatum: anyone withholding information about the file's whereabouts would face severe consequences.
The NSA splintered into four brigades, each patrolling different sectors, intimidating citizens and conducting aggressive interrogations in a desperate bid to recover the file.
Amid this turmoil, Rainier, a seasoned prosecutor at the Denier Office in Santa Mata was drawn back into the conflict. He had a troubled history with HHRA's local factions and had spent years serving in the NSA before becoming a prosecutor. His brother and loyal assistant, Bethel, was killed in a tragic encounter with a woman believed to be possessed.
The NSA's chief commander had promised Rainier that he would receive the endorsement file. But before the handoff could happen, HHRA struck again, derailing the plan. Now, with personal loss and duty weighing heavily on him, Rainier has begun his own search for the file that could determine the fate of Northern Syria.
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After Rainier successfully vanquished the possessed woman, his gaze slowly shifted toward Bethel's lifeless body. This time, however, his expression was tinged not with relief, but with an eerie sense of suspense. His brows furrowed in confusion, and his eyes widened in disbelief as he stared, unmoving.
"Rainier," a voice called out softly but not from Bethel.
Before he could react, a sudden, violent gust of wind erupted from nowhere. It tore through the room like a hurricane, blasting debris in every direction and hurling Rainier backwards into the wall with bone-jarring force. The sheer pressure of the energy felt unnatural. It was no ordinary wind. It was power & raw, unfiltered, and ancient.
Then, with a crack that split the silence like a whip, a bolt of lightning struck Bethel's outstretched left hand. The electrical burst left a jagged burn pattern etched across her skin—distinct and unmistakable.
"A Lichtenberg figure," Rainier muttered under his breath, staggering to his feet. He was injured but mesmerized, utterly spellbound by the supernatural transformation taking place before him.
Then came the voice again, calm and clear this time, resonating from behind him.
"I know you're probably unsettled by our resemblance," it said.
Rainier turned swiftly and froze. Standing just a few feet away was... himself. Or at least, someone who looked exactly like him, down to the last scar and wrinkle. His voice. His stance. His presence.
Rainier's mouth hung open. "Is this... a mirror?" he asked, his voice a whisper of disbelief.
"It's no mirror," the doppelgänger replied coolly. "And as for the endorsement file, leave it. It belongs to me now. You don't have the strength to resist what's coming not against the demons."
Rainier clenched his fists. "Who are you? How did you take on my form? What is this?"
"You'll understand soon enough," the double said, cryptically. "But if you don't move quickly... Refel will die in the hands of....."
Rainier's eyes widened in horror. "Don't say it…" he murmured, his voice trembling. But he already knew what was coming.
In a sudden burst of urgency, Rainier bolted from the crumbling building and sprinted across the compound. He spotted a weathered, military-grade 48B cargo truck and climbed inside, slamming the door as he revved the engine into motion.
"This can't be happening. Azra has to know about this," he muttered, his hands gripping the wheel tightly. He wasn't sure what part of this was real or illusion, but one thing was certain, he needed answers, and Azra was the only one who might have them.
The old truck rumbled and bounced across the harsh terrain, tires scraping against gravel as it barreled toward Kurgansk Mountain. Through the rearview mirror, Rainier caught sight of his double still in pursuit, moving with unnatural speed and precision.
Grabbing the military radio, he called out, "This is unit 8B. 8B. Can anyone hear me?"
A crackling response came through the static. "8B, we read you. What's your status?"
"I've got a tall hostile on my tail. Humanoid, grotesque. Roughly 500 miles west of the coast, heading northwest destination Kurgansk Mountain."
"Copy that, 8B. Request acknowledged. Dispatching air support and ground forces now. Hold tight."
Within half an hour, two heavily armed helicopters descended from the sky, guns blazing at the pursuing entity. Rainier seized the moment. Without hesitation, he flung the truck door open and dove out, hitting the ground hard and rolling into cover. The unmanned truck veered off course and slammed into the rocky base of the mountain in a fiery crash.
As the battle raged behind him, Rainier rose, dusted himself off, and began the long, perilous trek toward the heart of Kurgansk Mountain toward whatever truth awaited him there.
{Exeunt}
Correction is ongoing chapter Sequence fixing, please wait until March 30 for next update. Thank you and sorry for any inconveniences.🙏