Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

A few kilometers away, Wesley crouched in the snow, staring at the scene through his binoculars. Vince and Rosaline were packing up the remains of their “campfire dinner,” the wind howling around them.

“That’s it?” Wesley asked, dumbfounded. “We came all the way to Shiverstone just to have a damn picnic?”

Rosaline’s pale-purple lips curved into a soft smile. “What else did you expect?”

Wesley’s expression twisted between disbelief and amusement. He scratched his bald head, eyes flicking toward the distant cluster of flashing lights.

“This whole thing’s a setup,” he said finally. “But... I guess that means Axel’s really innocent.”

Rosaline said nothing. Vince handed Wesley a half-eaten rabbit leg. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Wesley took it, still shaking his head. “You two are insane.”

“Vernon. Let’s go.”

Fletcher’s voice was low, heavy. He could feel the rage radiating off Vernon’s back like heat from a furnace.

Vernon turned slowly, eyes burning. “You don’t believe me either?”

Fletcher hesitated. There was no easy answer. “Vernon... I’m sorry. But the evidence is solid. Axel’s arrest was already against protocol. Let’s push for a manslaughter ruling and—”

“You still don’t believe me.”

Snap.

Granite rippled across Vernon’s skin like a living shell. His body expanded, muscles swelling until his coat tore at the seams.

“Vernon, don’t!” Fletcher shouted, his tone suddenly desperate. “Don’t do something stupid!”

Vernon turned, towering over him, eyes cold and wild.

“Everyone already thinks the Brighthelm family bullies people. So what’s the harm in being a little more of a bully?”

Fletcher’s face drained of color. He was only a mid-tier Level 4 Awakener—he couldn’t hope to restrain Vernon now. Preston and the others, sensing the eruption, dropped everything and rushed outside.

“Vernon! What are you doing?!” Preston barked, the only one bold enough to speak. The other officers just froze, powerless.

Vernon glanced back once, eyes dark with fury—and vanished in a blur of stone and snow. He was faster and heavier than Vaughn had ever been.

“Irving, stop him!” Preston yelled.

Irving just shook his head, face pale. “I can’t. Not without Vaughn’s body. And even if I could... I wouldn’t win.”

But before anyone could move, a figure appeared in Vernon’s path—a stooped middle-aged man in a faded green army coat. His hands were outstretched, his expression soft with pity.

“Mr. Vernon,” he said quietly, “the truth is already clear. Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

It was Charles—the unassuming Whisper Syndicate representative who’d arrived earlier.

“Get out of my way!” Vernon bellowed. He knew who Charles was, but he didn’t care. Fury made him blind. He swung a fist the size of a hammer toward the man’s chest.

Charles sighed. “Then rest for a while.”

The Force in his body rippled outward. His heavy coat fluttered open, revealing a plain brown sweater underneath—utterly ordinary, except for the power radiating beneath it.

Vernon’s punch froze midair. His pupils shrank. For a split second, he saw something—something vast and terrible—looming in Charles’s gaze.

Then came the pain.

A stabbing shock tore through his skull. He convulsed, staggering back, mouth open in a soundless scream. Within seconds, the granite shell melted away. He stumbled a few steps, then collapsed face-first into the snow.

“You—what the hell did you do to him?” Fletcher’s voice cracked. His scalp prickled. Even at his level, he couldn’t sense what had just happened.

Charles smiled kindly, his tone almost grandfatherly.

“Nothing permanent. He’ll wake up soon—just... calmer than before.”

Fletcher swallowed hard. Was this man really the same mild-mannered representative who’d come from the Whisper Syndicate headquarters? If he could subdue Vernon like that... what rank did he actually hold?

Charles turned, meeting Preston’s gaze as the young officer approached. “Mr. Preston,” he said gently, “may I take Axel back now?”

Preston hesitated, then nodded. “Of course, Mr. Charles. Please... just stay in Shiverstone for now.”

Charles inclined his head politely. Everyone there knew Axel would face little punishment. Given the evidence, and given who had come to collect him, there wasn’t much left to discuss.

“Mr. Charles,” Vince said as they walked toward the parked vehicles, “did the team leader send you here personally?”

Charles paused, considering his words. Then he smiled, his tone soft and disarming as ever. “No. I was already in Shiverstone. I caught one of Axel’s matches not long ago. When I heard what happened, I figured I’d drop by.”

His eyes warmed with a faint sense of pride. “After all, he’s a teammate I haven’t had the chance to meet yet.”

Rosaline and Vince exchanged a look. Silence lingered between them before Vince spoke again. “So... does that mean you’re coming back to the team, Mr. Charles? About that matter—”

The car jolted as they hit a patch of uneven snow, breaking the moment. Everyone’s gaze drifted toward Charles, waiting for his answer.

He chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “You two have come a long way these past months. Maybe it’s time I stop sitting around and start pulling my weight again. Six months of rest is plenty.”

He didn’t elaborate, and they didn’t press. There were things about the Syndicate—about him—that were better left unsaid.

Rosaline smiled faintly. “You’d be surprised if you saw the others. Millers, Kaia, Phoenix—they’ve all changed.”

That caught Charles’s attention. His eyes lit up with genuine curiosity. Though Vince had once been his junior, most of Charles’s old teammates had either retired or died in the field. Hearing that the Obsidian Unit was still thriving clearly struck a chord.

“They’ve grown strong,” Vince continued. “Kaia and Phoenix are both Level 4, upper grade now. Millers just broke through to Level 5.”

Charles blinked, genuinely impressed. Even Wesley, sitting beside them, let out a low whistle. “What the hell kind of monsters do you people recruit these days?”

Vince laughed, scratching his chin. “We owe a lot to Axel, honestly. We trained at Dragon Pond—the Kensington family’s grounds. He’s the one who secured us the spot.”

Charles raised his brows. “Axel did that? That kid’s something else. Young, talented, and still humble enough to swallow his pride. You really did find a rare one, Vince.”

At that, both Vince and Rosaline went quiet. They knew Axel well enough, he’d probably figured and planed this out long ago.

Vince finally broke the silence with a small, thoughtful smile. “We didn’t expect Millers to advance that fast. We figured Phoenix would be next.”

The car rolled on, headlights cutting through the snowy dark.

Rosaline leaned closer and murmured, “Once Axel’s out, we’ll talk about what comes next.”

Vince nodded slowly. “Yeah..”

Night had already settled over Shiverstone when Sergio arrived at the hotel where the Stormwatch Academy contestants were staying. The hallway lights were dim, casting long shadows along the carpeted floor. He rapped twice on one of the doors.

“Terrence, you heard the news?”

This time, he hadn’t bothered calling Raymond. He’d come alone.

The door swung open to reveal Terrence, drenched in sweat and wearing nothing but a pair of training shorts. Sergio instinctively raised his folding fan to block the smell that hit him.

“Good god. Should I wait till you’re done?” he muttered.

Terrence just grinned. “No need. Come in if you want.”

He pushed the door open wider. The suite beyond was massive—polished wood floors, mirrored walls, and every kind of workout equipment money could buy.

Sergio sighed, stepping inside. He went straight to the window, cracked it open, and waved the fan to chase out the heavy, humid air. “So,” he said dryly, “what’s this about Axel?”

Terrence grabbed a towel and started dressing, his grin widening. “I already heard. Can you believe that guy? He actually begged Vaughn for mercy. I’d pay good money to see him on his knees in front of me like that.”

Sergio stared at him, momentarily speechless. He had come to talk about the strange developments in the case. Any trace of enthusiasm vanished from his face.

“Get dressed,” he said curtly. “We’re going to see Axel. It’s time to make our stance clear.”

Terrence froze, confused. “Our stance?”