Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

Jeremiah’s hospital room was in the intensive care wing, staffed by specialized medics. When Axel and the others entered, Jeremiah’s eyes were still faintly red, but he quickly wiped them dry.

“You must be colleagues from the Whisper Syndicate. Thanks to you, Northern Spiritual Town was spared a massacre.”

He looked to be in his forties, well-kept and meticulous even lying in a hospital bed. His right thigh, however, was wrapped in layers of gauze—part of the flesh was clearly missing, as if it had been torn away by teeth.

“Mr. Jeremiah, don’t mention it,” Vince said. “One of our members is an Awakened Medical. Axel, take a look.”

Jeremiah nodded politely as Axel stepped forward. “Then I’ll trouble you.”

Axel gave him a faint smile and released his Awakened skill—Abundant.

The nurses were in the middle of changing Jeremiah’s dressings when they heard a sharp *snap*. To their astonishment, the gauze began tearing on its own as flesh knit itself back together before their eyes. In moments, Jeremiah’s thigh was whole again. The only difference was the skin—smooth, almost too perfect.

“Holy shit… that’s incredible,” one nurse gasped, eyes sparkling as she looked at Axel.

Jeremiah stared as well, his face lighting with relief. “So young—and already a Level 4 Awakener?” He rolled down his pant leg and stood, taking a couple of careful steps before breaking into a grin.

Rosaline noticed Axel’s complexion had paled. “Axel, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He waved her off.

Vince gave him a concerned look, but said nothing. Axel was steady on his feet, if a little drained.

Jeremiah, meanwhile, seemed more alive than he had in days. “You didn’t just come here to patch me up,” he said slowly. “You’re here about Connor, aren’t you?”

Vince raised a brow. “You figured that out?”

Jeremiah gave a faint smile. “My abilities aren’t much, but I’ve always prided myself on being sharp. If you’re willing, I can share my perspective.”

“We’d appreciate that. We’re running out of leads,” Vince admitted. The rest of Obsidian turned to him expectantly.

“Your team seems convinced Geoffrey’s behind this,” Axel finally asked. “What’s your take?”

Jeremiah thought for a moment before replying. “I’d say he’s a strong possibility.”

Axel narrowed his eyes. “Because Connor’s body was found near him?”

Jeremiah shook his head. “You’re Whisper Syndicate — you’re sharp enough to know that could just as easily be a setup. Planting remains is no proof of guilt.” He leaned forward, his voice measured. “What troubles me is Geoffrey’s behavior during the defense.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “When the beast tide hit, he was the strongest fighter in the city. But instead of holding the line, he chased a Level 5 mutant. This wasn’t a hunting mission. His duty was to guard the gate. Even if he’d killed it, what if the rest of the horde broke through while he was gone?”

His gaze hardened. “And in the end, he didn’t even succeed in killing it. That’s the part I can’t reconcile.”

The room went quiet. Aside from Axel, everyone’s eyes tightened. They had considered Geoffrey, but always dismissed Connor’s corpse as deliberate misdirection. They hadn’t thought to question his choices during the fight. Jeremiah had just opened a door none of them had looked through.

“Mr. Jeremiah,” Axel said calmly, “I don’t think you’re finished.”

Jeremiah studied him in surprise. He had assumed Vince or Rosaline were the brains of this squad — but it was Axel who caught the implication first. He nodded. “Correct. The Survey Corps also got word about the destroyed cannon. That’s why I’m certain this wasn’t a team job. It was one person.”

Obsidian stared at him with newfound respect. Up until now, they’d only reached conclusions through group debate. Jeremiah, working alone, had pieced together the same picture.

“A single individual who could take Connor down…” Jeremiah spread his hands. “Unless there’s another Level 5 Awakener hiding in this city, Geoffrey is the only candidate.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jeremiah,” Rosaline said sincerely. “Your insight helps more than you realize.”

They were already itching to move. Only one name remained unchecked — Fabian from the Ministry of Agriculture. If Fabian turned out clean, then suspicion would fall squarely on Geoffrey.

“Any more questions?” Jeremiah asked. But the team’s eyes lingered on Axel instead. Axel shook his head and answered firmly, “Mr. Jeremiah, we need minds like yours. If I uncover anything new, I’ll come to you first.”

Jeremiah noticed the dark looks from Millers and the others, and chuckled softly. “My door’s always open.”

......

The group left the hospital with lighter steps despite their exhaustion.

“Jeremiah’s right. We missed this completely,” Rosaline said. Vince agreed with a grave nod.

“If it really *is* Geoffrey, his acting skills could rival Axel’s.”

He remembered the shock Geoffrey showed when Connor’s death was announced, and the fury he spat back at being accused. It had seemed convincing.

“Axel, what’s on your mind?” Vince asked suddenly.

The others realized he’d been silent since they left the ward. It was noon already, and none of them had slept in over thirty hours. If not for their Awakened stamina, they’d have collapsed. But Axel’s mind refused to rest. Every clue they’d gathered replayed in his head like a reel of film.

“No…” Axel muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “Something’s wrong.”

......

Outside the city limits of Northern Spiritual Town, the landscape was mostly flat, broken only by a handful of low hills. In winter, the fields should have been barren, but instead, endless rows of crops stretched out in every direction.

Thanks to the handiwork of Life-Type Awakeners, most grains, vegetables, and fruit could now withstand both blistering heat and bitter cold. Food production was no longer a concern, even in the dead of winter.

After trudging through nearly fifteen kilometers of farmland, the group finally reached the plantation overseen by Fabian.

The sight stopped them in their tracks.

Pumpkins the size of cars, pea vines taller than a man, and crimson peppers as wide as barrels crowded the fields in vibrant rows.

A middle-aged man in a vest and a sweat-stained khaki cap was bent over among the crops, cigarette dangling from his mouth. Feeling the weight of their stares, he straightened, pulled the cigarette from his lips, and waved with a broad smile.

“About time you got here! Come on in, I’ve got a feast waiting for you!”

Everyone exchanged glances, their mouths twitching. Fabian looked less like an Awakened combatant and more like a sunburned farmer who’d been working the land all his life.

“There’s an Awakening skill for… this?” someone muttered.

But it was real. Every single oversized crop around them had been catalyzed by Fabian’s Awakening ability.

Following him through the plantation, the group found themselves surrounded by fruit and vegetables dozens of times larger than normal, each radiating an intoxicating fragrance.

“Haha! Before the Awakening, I was a gamer. One of my favorite games was about planting crops and fighting off monsters. Guess the universe thought it was funny to give me a power like that.” Fabian led them with obvious pride, gesturing to his sprawling garden.

“But honestly, I’ve never liked fighting. Growing food suits me just fine.”

He shooed away two barking dogs at the gate, then dragged out a few battered, paint-chipped chairs. “Come on, sit down. Don’t stand on ceremony. I don’t get visitors often, so I don’t have anything fancy for you—but I cooked up a few dishes myself. Hope you don’t mind.”

Watching Fabian bustle around with the ease of a seasoned host, everyone was at a loss for words.

Soon, steaming plates began to fill the rough wooden table.

They were simple home-cooked dishes, nothing extravagant, but after going hungry for so long, the smell alone was enough to make their stomachs ache. Millers discreetly tested the food with his instrument—no toxins, no issues. That was all the encouragement they needed.

“This is amazing.”

“God, it smells so good…”

As the eight dishes disappeared piece by piece, Fabian’s weathered face lit up with quiet satisfaction.

When the meal was done, everyone sat back with full bellies.