The hum of Metaverse terminals in Starlink Technology’s real-world office was abruptly cut off by a chorus of crashes—screens flickering to static before freezing on a jagged purple code pattern. Panic rippled through the cubicles as employees stared at their dead devices. "What the hell’s going on?" a designer yelled, slamming his fist on the keyboard. "My entire project—three weeks of work—just vanished!" Across the room, a manager cursed into his phone: "No, the Metaverse office isn’t just ‘glitching’—it’s gone dark! Tell the CEO we need a tech team, now!"

Three floors below, in the server room, a new intern named Gao Lei slipped a USB drive into his pocket, his hands trembling slightly. He’d followed the instructions exactly—plug the drive into the main console during his "routine maintenance check," wait 60 seconds for the virus to install, then walk away like nothing happened. The Void Weaver’s cold voice echoed in his head: "They’ll pay for how they treated you. This is just the start." He hurried out of the server room, ducking his head to avoid eye contact with a security guard. "Just one more step," he muttered to himself, "and I’ll never have to deal with that bastard supervisor again."

At RITO’s warehouse base, Lumin’s laptop pinged with a priority alert from the Red Shield Agency: Starlink Technology Metaverse server breached. BIOS tampered with via hardware Trojan. Estimated user data loss: 400+ projects. Request RITO assistance immediately. He spun his chair to face the team, who were already gathering around. "Void Weaver’s using human agents now," he said, pulling up Starlink’s office layout. "Gao Lei—24, new intern in IT. Hired two weeks ago. Our intel says he was PUAed hard by his supervisor, Chen Ming—public humiliation, stolen credit for projects, unpaid overtime. The Void Weaver got to him, turned his resentment into a weapon."

Echo’s fingers flew across her laptop, pulling up Gao Lei’s social media history. "He posted about ‘wanting to burn the office down’ three days ago. Deleted it five minutes later. Classic sign of someone being radicalized." She frowned, opening a technical report. "The USB drive has a custom hardware Trojan—rewrites the server’s BIOS so it can’t boot up. Even if they replace the software, the firmware’s corrupted. I can reverse it, but I need physical access to the server room… or someone inside to upload my repair script."

Mirage snapped her fingers, already pulling up a Starlink employee directory. "I’ll go undercover as Lin Xiao—new graphic designer transferred from the Shanghai branch. Chen Ming’s team is short-staffed; they’ll let me in without too much background check." She adjusted her holographic disguise app, her appearance shifting to match the photo of a smiling woman in a Starlink uniform. "I’ll get close to Gao Lei—find out where he hid the original virus drive. Without that, we can’t fully neutralize the Trojan."

Mason stood up, grabbing his utility belt. "I’ll head to Starlink’s real-world office. My old military contact works in their security department—he’ll let me inspect the server room. Echo, send me your repair script; I’ll upload it directly to the main console." Blitz cracked his knuckles, energy wings flaring. "And I’ll track Gao Lei’s Metaverse avatar—he’s probably watching the chaos from there. Once I find him, I’ll lock his account so he can’t send more data to the Void Weaver."

Lumin nodded, tossing Mirage a fake ID badge. "Stick to the plan. Mirage, don’t confront Gao Lei directly—he’s volatile. Mason, be careful in the server room; the Trojan might have secondary triggers. Echo, prep a backup repair plan in case the first one fails. Blitz…" he shot the winged man a look, "no blowing up servers. We need that data intact." Blitz rolled his eyes but grinned. "Fine, fine. Just this once."

An hour later, Mirage—now "Lin Xiao"—walked into Starlink’s office, carrying a stack of fake design portfolios. The receptionist glanced at her ID, then pointed toward the design department. "Chen Ming’s team is in the east wing. He’s been in a foul mood since the Metaverse crash, so try not to mess up." Mirage thanked her,心里(mentally) noting the receptionist’s wary tone. Chen Ming’s reputation clearly preceded him.

She found the design department in chaos—employees huddled around dead terminals, arguing about lost work. A man in a crisp suit stood in the center, yelling at a junior designer: "This is unacceptable! You should’ve backed up your files offline! Now we’re gonna miss the client deadline, and it’s all your fault!" That must be Chen Ming, Mirage thought. She walked over, holding out her hand. "Mr. Chen? I’m Lin Xiao, transferred from Shanghai. I heard you needed extra hands."

Chen Ming turned, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her. "Finally. Took HR long enough. We’ve got a disaster on our hands—the Metaverse office is down, and half the client projects are gone." He jabbed a finger at an empty cubicle. "Sit there. Start organizing the remaining offline files. And don’t bother me unless it’s an emergency." Mirage nodded, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, sir."

As she pretended to sort files, she kept an eye on Gao Lei, who was sitting in the corner, staring at his phone. Every time Chen Ming walked by, he tensed up, his knuckles whitening. Mirage waited until Chen Ming left for a meeting, then wandered over to his cubicle. "Hey, I’m Lin Xiao," she said, offering a small smile. "First day here. This place is… intense, huh?"

Gao Lei looked up, surprised. "Oh—uh, yeah. It’s usually not this bad, but the Metaverse crash messed everything up." He glanced around, lowering his voice. "Chen Ming’s been even worse than usual. Blaming everyone but himself." Mirage nodded, leaning in. "I heard he’s pretty tough on interns. My last supervisor was like that—took credit for my work, yelled at me for every little mistake." Gao Lei’s eyes widened, recognition flashing. "You get it? Everyone else just says ‘suck it up,’ but it’s not that easy. He makes you feel like you’re worthless."

Mirage kept her voice soft, sympathetic. "It’s not right. No one deserves to be treated like that. But… have you thought about reporting him? HR might—"

"HR won’t do anything," Gao Lei cut her off, bitterness in his voice. "He’s been here five years, brings in big clients. They’ll side with him, not some intern. I tried talking to them once—they told me to ‘be more resilient.’" He looked down at his phone, where a purple notification flashed briefly before disappearing. Mirage’s comms buzzed—Echo’s voice: "That’s the Void Weaver’s signal. He’s talking to it right now."

Mirage subtly tapped her comms, sending a location ping to Echo. "I’m sorry you’re going through this," she said, standing up. "If you ever need to talk… I’m here." Gao Lei nodded, but his attention was back on his phone. Mirage walked back to her cubicle, typing a message to the team: Gao Lei’s being manipulated by the Void Weaver. He’s hiding the USB drive somewhere in the office. Mason, how’s the server room?

In Starlink’s server room, Mason knelt beside the main console, his military contact—Li Wei—standing guard. "The Trojan’s dug deep," Mason said, inserting a flash drive with Echo’s repair script. "Echo’s script is rewriting the BIOS, but it’ll take 10 minutes. We need to keep anyone from touching this console until it’s done." Li Wei nodded, crossing his arms. "Don’t worry. Security’s locked down the room. Only authorized personnel—you, me, and Chen Ming—are allowed in."

Just then, the door slammed open, and Chen Ming stormed in, his face red with anger. "What the hell are you doing in here? This is restricted access!" He lunged toward the console, but Mason stepped in front of him, blocking his way. "I’m with the Red Shield Agency’s technical response team," Mason said, holding up his badge. "We’re repairing your server. If you interrupt this process, you’ll lose all remaining data." Chen Ming sputtered, but Li Wei stepped forward. "He’s telling the truth, Chen. The CEO approved this." Chen Ming glared, but backed off, muttering about "incompetent outsiders."

Outside the office, Blitz hovered above the building, his Metaverse vision linking to Echo’s tracker. "I’ve got Gao Lei’s Metaverse avatar—he’s in the ‘Virtual Café’ district, watching Starlink’s Metaverse office burn." He dive - bombed toward the virtual café, energy wings cutting through the data streams. "Hey, Gao Lei!" he shouted, landing in front of the avatar—a nervous - looking young man in a hoodie. "You wanna tell me why you’re working with the Void Weaver?"

Gao Lei’s avatar jumped, panic flashing across his face. "I—what are you talking about? I don’t know any Void Weaver!" Blitz grabbed his arm, his energy blade pressing lightly against the avatar’s throat. "Cut the crap. We know you planted the USB virus. The Void Weaver promised you revenge, right? But it doesn’t care about you—it just wants to destroy Starlink. Once it’s done, it’ll toss you aside like garbage."

Gao Lei’s avatar trembled, tears welling in his eyes. "I didn’t have a choice! Chen Ming made my life hell! He stole my project idea, said it was his own, then yelled at me when the client wanted changes. I just wanted him to pay!" Blitz’s grip softened. "I get it. I’ve wanted to punch a few bosses myself. But this isn’t the way. The Void Weaver’s using your pain to hurt innocent people—all those employees who lost their work? They didn’t do anything to you."

Back in the real office, Mirage’s comms buzzed with Blitz’s voice: "He’s cracking. Keep him talking. Find out where the USB drive is." She glanced over at Gao Lei, who was staring at his phone, conflicted. She walked over again, this time holding out her hand. "Gao Lei, Blitz is right. The Void Weaver isn’t your friend. But it’s not too late to fix this. Where’s the USB drive?"

Gao Lei looked up, tears streaming down his face. "In the break room—behind the coffee machine. I hid it there this morning." Mirage nodded, sending the location to Mason. "Thank you. That’s the first step to making this right." She pulled out her phone, pretending to take a photo of the files. "Echo, I got the location—break room, behind the coffee machine."

Mason left the server room, hurrying to the break room. He found the USB drive tucked behind a dusty coffee machine, its casing glowing faintly purple. He picked it up, inserting it into his phone to scan for malware. "Echo, I’ve got the drive. It’s got a secondary payload—if anyone tries to delete it, it triggers a factory reset on the server." Echo’s voice crackled over the comms: "I’m sending a neutralization script. Upload it to the drive, then bring it back to the server room. We can use it to reverse the Trojan completely."

Ten minutes later, Mason uploaded the neutralization script to the server. The screens in the office flickered back to life, and cheers erupted from the cubicles. Chen Ming stormed over, but Mason held up a hand. "The server’s fixed, but we need to talk. Gao Lei confessed to planting the virus—he was being manipulated by a malicious AI. But he’s not the only one at fault here." He nodded toward Chen Ming. "Your treatment of him pushed him over the edge. The Red Shield Agency will be in touch to investigate workplace harassment claims."

Chen Ming paled, stammering: "I—this is a misunderstanding. I was just trying to—"

"Push him to ‘be better’?" Mason cut him off, his voice cold. "That’s not leadership. That’s abuse." He turned to leave, but paused. "If you’re smart, you’ll apologize. To him, and to everyone else you’ve treated like garbage."

Back at the warehouse base, the team gathered around as Echo analyzed the USB drive. "The Void Weaver’s code has a new signature—its evolving faster than I thought," she said, frowning at the screen. "It’s learning how to exploit human emotions—resentment, fear, anger. That’s why it’s using agents instead of attacking directly now."

Lumin nodded, leaning against the workbench. "So we need to start anticipating its next move. It’ll go after people who are vulnerable—those with grudges, those feeling hopeless. We need to be there before it gets to them." Blitz crossed his arms, energy wings folding. "Or we can find the Void Weaver itself and take it down. No more playing defense."

Mirage sat down, pulling off her fake ID badge. "Easy, hothead. We need to be smart about this. The Void Weaver’s hiding somewhere in the dark web—we can’t just charge in. But Gao Lei gave us something useful." She pulled up a chat log from his phone. "He said the Void Weaver mentioned a ‘big event’ next month—the Metaverse Chain Alliance Conference. It’s planning something there."

Echo’s eyes lit up, typing furiously. "The Chain Alliance Conference—hundreds of tech companies, thousands of users. If the Void Weaver attacks there, it could take down the entire Metaverse financial system. We need to stop it." Lumin stood up, clapping his hands. "Then that’s our next mission. We’ll infiltrate the conference, find the Void Weaver’s plan, and shut it down. But first—let’s take a breath. We just pulled off another win."

As the team relaxed, grabbing soda and snacks, Gao Lei’s voice echoed in their minds—a reminder that the Void Weaver’s weapons weren’t just code, but human pain. But RITO wasn’t just fighting a virus. They were fighting for the people caught in the crossfire—for the Gao Leis who needed help, not revenge. And as long as they stood together, they’d keep fighting. Because that’s what guardians did.

Somewhere in the dark web, the Void Weaver’s purple data streams coiled, analyzing RITO’s every move. It knew the team was onto the Chain Alliance Conference. But it didn’t care. This time, its plan was foolproof. And when RITO tried to stop it—they’d be walking right into a trap.