Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

Axel exhaled, long and heavy, then pressed his palm over Cassia’s wound. Warm Force surged from his fingertips, flowing through her body.

Cassia’s breathing steadied. Her color returned, faint but alive.

She coughed twice, blinking her eyes open, dazed. “Axel…?”

When she saw him, her lips trembled with relief—until her gaze flicked to Vaughn’s motionless body. “You… killed him?”

Axel didn’t answer. His eyes darted between the door, the blood, and the fading Force in the air, mind already racing.

“Cassia,” he said quietly, “take Annabelle and leave. Now.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “What are you planning to do? He attacked first. Even if you killed him, it was self-defense. I’ll testify for you.”

Neither Axel nor Annabelle spoke. The silence itself was answer enough.

Cassia’s heart sank.

“He’s from a noble family,” Axel murmured, almost to himself.

That single line hit her harder than anything else. Her breath caught, eyes welling red.

He wasn’t afraid of punishment—he was afraid for them.

He didn’t want Cassia or Annabelle dragged down with him.

......

“Let’s go.”

Cassia’s eyes burned red as she grabbed Annabelle’s trembling hand. Together they vanished into the howling snow through the shattered doorway.

The night was a blur of white and black, snow slashing across their faces as they ran. Once they were far enough from the cabin, Cassia finally broke down.

She stopped, clutching Annabelle’s slender hand, her tears hitting the snow and freezing instantly.

“I’m useless,” she whispered, voice shaking. “Why can’t I do anything? Am I really that weak?”

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps.

Annabelle, though her mind was still on Axel, suddenly felt something wrong—an unsettling, pulsing energy beside her. She turned, eyes widening.

Cassia’s skin had begun to shimmer—pale blue scales spreading along her neck and arms like frost.

“Sister Cassia! Calm down!” Annabelle cried.

Her voice snapped through the storm like a lightning strike. Cassia froze mid-breath, her mind clearing in an instant. She forced herself to inhale deeply, again and again, until the panic ebbed. Slowly, the scales faded. Her skin returned to normal.

Cassia stared down at her trembling hands, still shocked. Then she looked at Annabelle with gratitude. “Thank you, Annabelle. I—I lost control for a second. If you hadn’t called out…”

She didn’t finish the sentence. They both knew what would’ve happened. Infection wasn’t just a curse—it was a death sentence.

.......

“Cassia, I’m sorry. I had to lie to you.”

Vaughn wasn’t dead.

Cassia thought Axel had killed him, but he hadn’t. Axel had wanted to finish him off. God knows he did. But the moment Vaughn showed up at that cabin, Axel realized the mistake was already irreversible. If Vaughn died here, the trail would lead straight back—to them.

Killing an ordinary Level 4 Awakener would’ve been nothing to Axel. But Vaughn wasn’t ordinary.

From the dinner with Sergio and the others, and from how Vernon had spoken about him, it was clear—the Vaughn family was at least on the same tier as the Windsors.

Killing someone of that rank and trying to cover it up? Even the Whisper Syndicate couldn’t save him from the fallout.

No—he needed the story to look like self-defense.

That wasn’t even the biggest problem.

If Vaughn died, and his family brought in a high-level Undead Guide to read his corpse’s memories, they’d see everything. They’d find out about Annabelle.

And that would be the end of everything.

Snow blew through the broken door, numbing Axel’s hands. The storm bit at his skin, but he barely felt it. He stood over Vaughn’s limp body, the man’s breath shallow but still there.

“Bang!”

Axel’s boot connected with his skull. Vaughn convulsed once and went still again.

Axel exhaled slowly, forcing his mind into order. Then he took out his phone and dialed.

“Hello? Mr. Isaac—it’s Axel.”

It was well past one in the morning, but Isaac’s voice snapped alert instantly. “Axel? What’s wrong?”

He knew Axel didn’t call for small matters.

“What’s the highest-level Undead Guide currently in Krythos?” Axel asked, voice low.

Isaac paused, then answered carefully. “Level Six. Why?”

Axel ignored the question. “If a Level Six Awakener performs a spirit search on a Level Four corpse, how long can they retrieve memories for?”

There was silence on the other end. Then Isaac replied, “Roughly twelve hours.”

“Twelve hours…” Axel murmured.

That was too long.

He sat there for a moment, eyes distant. “I understand. Mr. Isaac… please erase this call.”

Isaac was the Whisper Syndicate’s logistics chief, a Level Six Awakener himself. If anyone could wipe a record clean, it was him—or someone he knew in the Holy Light Organization.

“Level Six… twelve hours,” Axel muttered after hanging up.

Even if the Brighthelm family couldn’t summon one that fast, he couldn’t risk it.

“Twelve hours,” he whispered again. “It has to look like self-defense.”

Calm and clinical, he went to work.

With the precision of a surgeon, he severed Vaughn’s tendons—hands, feet, the key muscle meridians in his arms and legs—leaving him alive, but broken. Then he bound him tight with rope from the wall.

A faint golden glow shimmered over Vaughn’s body as Axel channeled his Force, healing just enough to stabilize his brain. When the man’s eyelids twitched faintly, Axel withdrew his hand.

Vaughn stirred. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open.

“Axel!”

He blinked into the dim light, vision swimming. The ropes bit into his wrists and ankles. He tried to move, but pain shot up his limbs.

“You— you severed my tendons?!” His voice cracked with disbelief and fury. “How fucking dare you? Let me go!”

He roared and tried to summon his Force, muscles swelling, the cords of his neck tightening—until he met Axel’s gaze.

No hatred. No anger. Just a cold, merciless calm.

The kind of look that made the blood drain from Vaughn’s face.

He’d seen that look before—on people who’d already decided someone was dead.

“You’re going to kill me?” Vaughn stammered, his bravado collapsing into panic. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson, that’s all! I wasn’t gonna kill you!”

Even as rage burned in him, there was truth in his words. He’d wanted to scare Axel, humiliate him, maybe rough him up—but not this. Not this.

“I’m sorry,” Axel said softly. His tone wasn’t threatening. If anything, it carried a trace of regret. That made it worse.

Vaughn’s voice cracked. “Just because I hit your friend and your sister, you want to kill me?”

Axel stood, slow and deliberate. The sound of his boots on the wooden floor was louder than the storm outside.

Vaughn’s body trembled. Shame twisted with terror on his face as his pride bled out. “Axel, please. I lost control, alright? I shouldn’t have touched them. Just treat me like some crazy bastard who snapped for a moment.”

Axel didn’t answer. His silence was heavier than any threat.

Vaughn’s voice broke as he kept talking, desperate now, voice raw and pleading.

“My father—he’s from a side branch of the family. He gave me everything he had so I could get the Rock Spinal Cord, to bring some pride back to us. I failed him, and I snapped. I just… lost it. I’m not a bad person, I swear.”

He was sobbing now, body shaking uncontrollably. The once-arrogant noble looked like a pitiful animal cornered in the dark.

Axel stopped walking. He sighed quietly. “You’re right. What you’ve done doesn’t deserve death.”

Vaughn’s eyes lifted, wide and glistening. For a moment, hope flickered there.

“But…” Axel’s voice lowered, the word dragging like a blade. His eyes sharpened, cutting into Vaughn’s face. “You saw it.”

Vaughn froze.

“You pretended not to,” Axel said, voice flat. “But I know you saw everything.”

The beast in Axel’s voice made Vaughn’s breath hitch. It wasn’t yelling—but the pressure of it crushed him all the same.

“Tell me, Vaughn,” Axel whispered, leaning closer, eyes narrowing. “Would you let me live if our places were reversed?”

His tone wasn’t rage—it was inevitability.