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The year closes in on its final breath. Factories choke the sky with fire, dirigible squadrons
circle like steel vultures, and the great engines of industry grind toward a future no one can
stop.
Gideon Hale once believed he could.
Detective. Veteran. Reluctant idealist.
A man trained to hold the line long after sane men stepped aside.
But the line snapped.
He isn't a hero. He isn't a savior. He's a relic from a better theory of the world — one where truth
mattered, where justice wasn't something bought at gunpoint. He stayed alive long enough to
watch the world miss every warning it ever gave itself. Civilization didn't run out of time —
humanity squandered it.
Now the world is burning — an ignition fueled by panic and ignorance, the slow fulfillment of
decisions made long before Hale ever pulled a badge.
The rising smoke isn't chaos — it's the script arriving at its final scene.
When systems fail, individuals decide what the world becomes next.
He doesn't need to win.
He only needs to interrupt the doomsday clock.
The eleventh hour has come and gone...