Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

Rosaline raised an eyebrow. “And that’s when you turned to the Survey Corps?”

“Right. At first, I had no idea. But then I remembered—those four from the Survey Corps aren’t normal.”

They exchanged glances, but nobody spoke.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“Think back,” Axel said quietly. “The four of them never spoke at the same time.”

The others frowned, still not understanding. Vince’s eyes, however, narrowed as the pieces clicked.

“So when you went to the hospital with Clifford,” Vince said slowly, “you were testing this theory?”

Axel nodded. “Yes. The captain was talking to Ingrid, so I went to Clifford alone. The moment Clifford started speaking, Ingrid shut up completely.”

The room went still. Everyone remembered that moment—back then, they’d just assumed Vince was awkward. Now, they realized Axel had already been testing a suspicion.

Rosaline’s lips tightened. “So why can only one of them talk at a time?”

“Because they’re being controlled.”

“What?!”

The word tore through the room.

Axel’s gaze hardened. “They can fight and move fine. But once they open their mouths, the controller has to split their focus and use more complex logic. And based on everything else I uncovered, the one controlling them could only be Jeremiah.”

Phoenix stood off to the side, watching the frozen battlefield like a bored guard dog. “Phoenix,” Miller called, “aren’t you curious?”

Phoenix turned his head lazily. “Didn’t get it at the start. Still don’t. You guys figure it out.”

.....

“But Jeremiah had an alibi.”

Axel shook his head. “No. I discovered he’s been hiding his true level—he’s a Level 5 Awakener. I treated him at the hospital.”

He explained: “After using my Abundant Awakening, I was completely drained. At first I chalked it up to exhaustion from fighting non-stop. But later, I realized it didn’t add up. My Original Veins are Flood-level. By the time I treated him, my Force should have recovered. His wounds weren’t fatal. If he were a Level 4 Awakener, I wouldn’t have been in that state. That was the giveaway.”

A stunned silence followed.

“What really made me think of mind control, though,” Axel said, “was the scarecrow in Fabian’s yard. Fabian joked about an evil spirit mage controlling human puppets.”

And then Annabelle gave him the final piece—she said the east gate stank.

As someone infected, Annabelle’s nose was sharper than them. The only reason she would say it stank was because there had been corpses there—long before we arrived.

“And then there were Miller’s surveillance bots. You mentioned how the Survey Corps members ate, then went straight to their rooms without interacting with anyone. That sealed it for me.”

Axel’s voice dropped, calm. “I hadn’t known about evil spirit mages before. If not for Fabian’s reminder, I never would’ve guessed that people could still move around like normal after they’d already died.”

“Man…” Miller let out a sharp laugh, looking at Axel like he was something other than human. “Are you even fucking real?”

Vince’s voice was barely more than a whisper: “I’ll report to the team leader.”

Rosaline’s chest rose and fell sharply as she stared at Axel’s young face, her thoughts flashing darkly: This man was such a fucking maniac.

After a few minutes of conversation, Axel paused to sip from his water bottle. Rosaline edged closer.

“You knew he was a Level Five Spirit Mage, and you still volunteered to be the bait?!” She tried to sound calm. No matter how many risks Axel had taken before, this one was on a whole different level.

“The strength of a Spirit Mage lies in the human husks he controls,” Axel replied with a faint smile. “Strip those away, and he’s nowhere near as dangerous.”

What he didn’t mention was the number of failsafes tucked up his sleeve. His passive skill, Mental Barrier, was a trump card no one expected. And if things went completely sideways, he still had the spatial crystal Lilith had given him.

“But he can’t hide forever if he’s turning his comrades into husks,” Rosaline pressed. “Jeremiah might’ve fooled Vince and me, but there’s no way he could fool Sethan.”

Axel shook his head slowly. “He probably rushed it to sync with the beast tide. Connor—one of the top-ranked Level Four Psychics—likely got killed because Jeremiah was running out of time.”

Whatever the details, that would all be for command to investigate later. For now, Axel was still wondering if Xander had managed to catch anything unusual.

Just then, Fabian stood abruptly. “Bad news. The bastard killed himself.”

“Huh?” Everyone snapped their heads toward the mass of vines holding Jeremiah’s body.

“I’m sorry,” Fabian muttered, rubbing his palms together with an awkward grimace. “Didn’t expect him to off himself. Anyway, I’ve got to head back—I still need to tend the garden.”

Axel’s expression softened. For all his strength as a Fifth-Level Awakener, Fabian had a disarming, almost homely aura.

“Mr. Fabian, you’ve already done more than enough. Thank you.”

Fabian scratched at his tangled hair and smiled sheepishly. “If you’ve got time, swing by again. I’ll cook for you. Now I’ll be off.”

As he watched the man leave in his plain homespun clothes, Axel felt a tug of nostalgia. People like Fabian—quiet, steadfast—were the real backbone of Krythos.

Turning back to the vine cocoon, Axel narrowed his eyes. Let’s see what you’ve been hiding, Jeremiah.

Though protocol demanded the corpse be shipped to Northern Suppression Town, Axel didn’t hesitate to claim the prize that remained: a Level Five Life Crystal.

Northern Suppression Town — Military Headquarters

In the cavernous briefing hall, Sethan, commander of the Survey Corps, slumped in his chair, chin propped on one hand. He looked worn out. Before him sat five team leaders, drawn from the Survey Corps, the Ministry of Defense, and the Whisper Syndicate.

“Another wasted effort,” Sethan muttered with a humorless laugh. “As expected, anything I touch turns to shit.”

At the Syndicate’s table, Xander’s face darkened.

“Mr. Sethan, the investigation’s still ongoing. We’ve already caught several spies. As long as they’re breathing, we’ll squeeze something out of them,” a stern-faced man in his fifties added quickly, trying to calm the mood.

“You’re good at ass-kissing, I’ll give you that,” Xander muttered under his breath.

“Xander,” Gordon—another Syndicate officer—hissed, tugging at his sleeve. “Keep it down. Our performance was mediocre this round. Don’t make it worse by mouthing off.”

He wasn’t wrong. Of the sixteen cities under surveillance, twelve had confirmed infiltrations, but only seven spies had been captured. Three of the failures had been under Whisper Syndicate jurisdiction.

Xander had spent days stuck in meetings, stewing under the sidelong looks of his peers.

“Sethan, we have the latest report.”

The voice cut through the tension. A short-haired woman in her sixties strode in, her uniform crisp, her expression stone-cold. Despite her age, she carried herself with a soldier’s vitality.

“Leona,” Sethan said, straightening a little. “Any progress?”

“We dispatched two Awakened Undead Guides to pull memories from the spies who committed suicide. Nothing suspicious in the last twenty-four hours.”

She paused, then added firmly: “Their orders were clearly tied to coordinating the beast siege. Also, I recommend transferring interrogation of the five remaining spies from the Whisper Syndicate to the Survey Corps.”

The room chilled. Leona’s eyes flicked toward Xander, whose veins bulged with fury.

“Leona, give us a little more time,” Gordon interjected, trying to keep things from boiling over.

“Time?” Leona’s tone was like steel. “It’s been over thirty hours. What are you planning—more torture? If you can’t get results, stop wasting time.”

Xander slammed his fist on the table. “Who the hell says we can’t do it? You questioning our interrogation skills?”

Leona didn’t even blink. “Yes.”

The other team leaders’ faces tightened. Everyone knew Leona and Xander had a long history.

“You two, enough,” Sethan muttered, sounding more like a man nursing a hangover than a commander. “Peace, peace. Just… peace.”

He slouched deeper, groaning. Why the hell did Jerome promote me? I’m the least suited commander they could’ve picked.