Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

Vince didn’t look at the gift. “We were doing our duty. If we deserve anything, the Whisper Syndicate will see to it. Tell Governor Brooks: thanks, but no thanks.”

Felix nodded with a thin smile and tucked the box away.

A short while later, Axel returned.

Vince didn’t speak. Axel shook his head. Just slightly.

Vince turned back to Felix. “We won’t take up any more of your time.”

There was more to discuss. But not here.

.......

The ride back to the hotel was heavy with silence.

After a long stretch of quiet, Millers suddenly slammed his fist against the door. “Bullshit. That corpse—there’s no way that was Jude.”

“Even if we demand an autopsy, the results will be rigged unless we do it ourselves,” Kaia muttered, her voice thick with frustration.

Vince finally spoke, his voice low. “You know what compensation the Windsor family offered?”

Everyone turned toward him.

“Twenty million in cash per person,” Vince said, “plus a Life Pill.”

There was a sharp intake of breath around the cabin.

“That much?” Phoenix muttered.

“It’s not generosity,” Vince said flatly. “It’s hush money. They’re telling us this is over. Take your payout and shut up.”

He turned to look out the window, face unreadable. The silence returned, heavier than before.

“Flag that man’s profile with the Whisper Syndicate Information Bureau,” Rosaline said coldly to Kaia. “If we see him again, detain him. If he resists, kill him on sight.”

No one replied, but they all knew the truth: the Windsor family would never let Jude reappear in public. Not as himself.

By the time they pulled up to the hotel, night had settled over the city. Everyone dispersed without a word.

Axel headed straight for his room like a man with no intention of talking to anyone. Vince followed.

“Axel,” Vince called, catching up to him. “You tell me? Was that really Jude?”

Vince knew Axel had a rare ability—something like a spiritual identifier—that allowed him to sense the true identity of the dead.

Axel didn’t turn around. “Captain,” he said quietly, “I think you already know the answer.”

Vince stared at Axel’s back and sighed.

He knew what kind of man Axel was. The kind who didn’t care about rules, authority, or consequences—only results. They’d worked hard to help him see the bigger picture, to teach him restraint, give him direction.

But today, the way Mirabelle’s official channels handled things? It had pulled him right back to who he used to be. And maybe worse.

“I made a promise,” Axel said suddenly. “I told you I’d warn you before I acted.”

He finally turned around. His eyes were calm—too calm.

“So… what happens now? Are you going to try and stop me?”

There was no anger in his voice. Just cold purpose. And the Force that pulsed around him, quiet but immense, sent a chill up Vince’s spine.

Axel wasn’t a kid anymore. He was a full-fledged awakener now—strong enough to kill a man without blinking.

Vince met his eyes, then stepped forward and laid a hand on Axel’s shoulder. “Be smart. Be clean.”

Axel nodded once. “Thanks, Captain.”

He turned and disappeared into his room.

The moment he left, Vince moved to a dark corner of the hallway. Rosaline was leaning against the wall, one leg crossed over the other, lighting a cigarette.

The motion-sensor light clicked off, leaving only the occasional glow of the ember lighting her face.

“I thought you’d try to stop him,” she said quietly.

“Axel thought so too.”

“But you didn’t.” Her tone held mild amusement. “That’s not like you.”

Vince gave a rare smile. “Because this time, he’s right. Jude deserved it.”

“Even if it breaks protocol?”

“Yes.”

Rosaline raised a brow, intrigued. “Let me ask you something, then. Let’s say you were back in Maxen. Same situation. If Axel told you he was going to kill Maxen—would you help?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because Maxen shouldn’t die.”

Rosaline exhaled a plume of smoke, then flicked ash off the tip of her cigarette. “Hmm. I see. You’re still just as stubborn as ever underneath.”

“Appreciate the compliment,” Vince replied. “Now get well soon!”

Rosaline snorted, stamped out her cigarette, and headed back to her room.

If Jude ended up dead, there would be fallout. The Obsidian Squad would not be able to leave Drakenfall easily.

Rosaline smiled faintly to herself. “Interesting. Let’s see how Governor Brooks reacts when the Windsor family loses their golden boy....”

Back in the room, Axel shut the curtains tight, then stripped down to just a thin vest and shorts.

“Annabelle,” he said without turning around, “no matter who comes knocking, don’t open the door. Just say I’m asleep.”

Annabelle stood by the bed. She had good news she wanted to share—but seeing the expression on Axel’s face, she swallowed it down.

“Bro… where are you going?”

But before she could finish, Axel had already pushed open the ventilation grate above the wardrobe and hoisted himself inside.

“I’ll be back soon,” came his low voice from the shadows. Then the vent closed again with a soft click.

In the dark, Axel closed his eyes. His mental energy unfurled like threads through the network of the city, seeking a single flickering flame.

There it was—still burning.

A faint ember, like a heartbeat, pulsing from somewhere far off in the sprawl of Drakenfall.

The Seed of Flame.

It was something Axel had left in Jude’s body—unintentionally—during that beating.

It was a combat technique: a delayed detonation move that built up damage and then erupted. Axel hadn’t planned to track Jude with it. But once he’d picked up those life crystals at the detention center… and seen that one of them bore a different name, it all clicked.

Cody was truly dead. But Jude had used a stand-in.

The burning seed had six hours of lifespan. This one had forty-seven minutes left.

Axel’s gaze hardened. His world used to be small. He’d thought Wolfe—the richest man in the Dune territories—was already the peak of influence.

But now, here in Mirabelle, in the presence of families like the Windsors?

He finally understood.

Power wasn’t just money. It was immunity.

.....

In a secluded mansion on the outskirts of Drakenfall, the real Jude was stuffing valuables into a duffel bag, his mood foul.

Bang!

The door slammed open.

Jude turned and froze. “Dad—”

Jamin Windsor stood in the doorway, his expression carved from stone. The elder Windsor, once Chief Justice of Mirabelle, stared down at his son with undisguised disgust.

“From now on,” Jamin said coldly, “Jude Windsor is dead. Watch your mouth and pack faster—we’re leaving.”

Jude’s chubby face twitched. He forced a smile. “Dad, come on. Don’t be like that. I get it—you’re pissed. But it’s not that serious. There’s no one else here.”

Jamin’s glare softened just slightly.

“Leave the junk,” he snapped, seeing Jude trying to pack up rare collectibles. “We go now. You’ll only be safe once we reach Frosthaven.”

Jude’s hands stopped. He turned, sulking. “Is it really that serious? I mean, the Whisper Syndicate people didn’t even die. If this gets out, our family name’s gonna be a joke.”

Jamin’s voice dropped, quiet. “This is Brooks’ decision. The beast tide has shifted the balance. The military’s influence is rising fast. You think you can outrun them if they come after you?”

“Plotting against Whisper Syndicate members is treason, Jude. Death sentence.”

Jude raised his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright.” He hesitated. “What about my sister? Where does she stand?”

“She wants your head on a plate,” Jamin said bluntly. “But this time, we must sacrifice the outsiders.”

The Whisper Syndicate would never really buy the story. But the show had to go on.

The payoff helped. Cody’s staged suicide confession helped. Jude’s “death” in a coffin helped.

They’d done their part. Now it was time to disappear.

“I’m going outside. Finish up.” Jamin’s voice had no room for argument.

Jude looked around the room, glanced at the shelves of art and treasure.

He didn’t want to leave it behind.