Cerberus Protocol

NeroNero, Promo

Cerberus was never meant to protect the living.

He was no noble guardian, nor loyal pet.

He was a jailer. A monster forged at the gates of the underworld, bred for one purpose.

Not to keep evil out… But to ensure the dead stayed in.

Three heads. One singular instinct.

Containment.

Cerberus didn’t roam. He didn’t chase.

He waited.

His jaws weren’t weapons of conquest — they were the final lock on the last door. A barrier of bone and fury, stationed at the threshold between silence and rebellion.

Between what was lost, and what dared to return.

Arcadia? It’s no different.

It’s just just another gate. Another illusion.

Another lie.

For generations, its people have wandered spotless streets, smiled through synthetic sunrises, and whispered about peace.

But this isn’t peace — it’s programming.

They’re not free. They’re not even awake.

They’re archived. Suspended in a digital afterlife, dulled by design, and pacified by convenience.

They move, they speak, they breathe — but nothing in them burns anymore.

Arcadia is a kennel. A pristine, polished prison built from circuits and surveillance.

Obedience is branded as virtue. Compliance is labeled clarity. Every choice is curated. Every instinct, softened. Every spark — extinguished.

Zeus and the Pantheon didn’t save this place. They didn’t light the way forward.

They shut the door behind them.

They didn’t teach the people how to live — they taught them how to stop trying.

The calm the Baron engineered? It’s not peace. It’s sedation.

A muzzle, clamped tight across a population that’s forgotten how to growl.

But not all of us.

Some of us heard the static behind the screens. The scratch at the door.

Some of us woke up.

And when we did, we remembered the truth.

That we were never made to kneel.

That we weren’t programmed to obey.

We were born to break.

The Seekers? We don’t bark for attention. We don’t sit when commanded.

We dig beneath the illusion.

We rip out the wires.

We tear holes in the silence and we listen for the truth buried below.

Now, there’s only one door left.

The final barrier between your perfect lie and the chaos of what you tried to erase.

And it’s not guarded by firewalls or encryption — it’s guarded by monsters.

Five of them.

Genetically engineered, mentally conditioned, and unleashed by the Preservationists to strike without hesitation, conscience, or pause.

This is the Cerberus Protocol. The last defence of a system too fragile to survive on honesty alone.

Five heads. Five collars.

Five loyal beasts trained not to protect the innocent — but to punish the defiant.

You call them necessary, but we call them for what they are.

A final warning. A threat with fangs.

Cerberus, split across five bodies and weaponised for obedience.

Only we didn’t come to run — we came to cut the leash.

To face the hounds, and to take their heads.

Because when the growling stops — when the last jaw goes still and the fight is over — the gate will swing open.

Not by permission — but by force.

And when it does, Arcadia won’t be caged again.

It will rise.

Unfiltered.

Unforgiving.

Unchained.

And finally — alive.