Region 4.2 was now officially called "anomaly."
But outside the Faction, the word didn't mean fear.
It didn't mean broken.
It didn't mean wrong.
Quite the opposite—
to a world that had been silent for so long,
anomaly sounded like possibility.
On the fringes of small regions,
who lacked the power to form their own systems,
new whispers began to emerge.
"If they can survive without a center…"
"If they can survive without a system…"
"If they don't burn after breaking away…"
"…why are we still silent?"
It wasn't a revolution.
It wasn't a rallying cry.
Just the movement of alien bodies
who had been on the ground all this time—now starting to stand up.
And they weren't pointing at the Faction.
Not at Adrasteia.
Not at 4.2.
They weren't pointing at anyone.
They were just walking.
And each step was like a blot on a map.
Not ink.
But a new space
that couldn't be marked with the old colors.
In region 3.7,
