Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

“Vernon, snap out of it! That man’s not your damn driver!” he shouted, hauling Vernon bodily from the car. The cold hit them like a slap, and Fletcher had to brace himself against the snow just to stay upright.

They’d stopped less than a dozen meters from the cabin. The vehicle rolled a little before coming to a halt, and out of the drifting snow, the woman stepped gracefully into view.

“Who the hell are you?!” Fletcher barked, pulling the half-dazed Vernon behind him. His pulse hammered.

She was… unreal. Beautiful, yes — hauntingly so — but in a way that felt wrong. Her features seemed carved too perfectly, her skin too smooth, her expression too deliberate. The longer he stared, the less real she looked.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” she said softly, her voice like velvet sliding over a blade. “What matters is that you’ll both be dead soon.”

Fletcher’s hand crept toward his phone. Even after years in politics — cushy meetings, polite corruption — his instincts still told him when death was near. The Force stirred faintly under his skin, though his Level 3 Awakener power had long since dulled with age and disuse.

“Vernon,” he hissed, shaking the man’s arm. “Wake up. Hey—Vernon!”

No response. Just a strange, wet sound. Fletcher’s hand slid across something slick, cold, and pulsing. He froze, then turned his head slowly.

A nightmare loomed beside him.

The thing that had been Vernon towered over him — nearly four meters tall, its body sheathed in black scales that shimmered like oil. Its massive arms flexed, its face a grotesque echo of the man he’d once known.

Before Fletcher could even think, the creature lunged.

There was a flash of teeth — wet, gleaming, animal. Then nothing but a crunching, grinding noise and a spray of warmth that hit the snow in red streaks.

A headless body hit the ground with a soft, heavy thud. Blood steamed in the frozen air. The sound of chewing filled the silence.

The woman didn’t flinch. She only smiled, watching calmly as Vernon — or what was left of him — finished feeding.

When he stilled, she walked up to him with the same slow grace, her white dress dragging across the blood-stained snow. “Such a powerful vessel,” she murmured, her fingertips brushing the scales on his thigh. “It’s a shame I can’t take you with me.”

Vernon stood there, panting, blood and bits of flesh dripping from his jaws. He didn’t move, didn’t even try to resist.

The woman’s beauty was suffocating — almost divine in its cruelty. Even now, looking at her, one could almost believe she was something to be worshipped, not feared.

Then she smiled again. “Pity.”

In one fluid motion, she leapt, her small hand pressing lightly to his chest — and then driving straight through it.

The impact was like a cannon blast.

Vernon’s massive body convulsed, the sound of his breaking heart echoing through the frozen air. He dropped to his knees, blood bubbling up his throat. His vision blurred, and the last thing he saw was the woman — the cat-faced mask now back on her porcelain features — stepping gracefully across the ice. Her bare feet, white as bone, left pink smudges in the snow.

“He’s a fruit I’ve been watching,” she said softly, turning away. “Still green. Don’t pluck him before he ripens. Die quietly now.”

Vernon’s eyes rolled back. The life drained out of him.

The woman lingered only a moment longer. Then she reached into her bloodied robes, drew out a glass-like sphere, and placed it delicately on the two corpses. The sphere shimmered faintly, absorbing what little heat still clung to them.

After a while, she straightened, her pale hair brushing against the stained fabric of her dress. Without another glance, she turned and walked into the storm, her figure dissolving into the falling snow.

......

It was deep into the night when Axel finally returned to the hotel, bone-tired. The others didn’t bother him — he’d earned the rest.

In his room, he checked in with Cassia to confirm she and the others were safe. Once he knew they were, he collapsed into bed, exhaustion swallowing him whole. Within minutes, soft snoring filled the quiet room.

“First time I’ve seen him that tired,” Rosaline murmured.

In the dimly lit hallway, she and Vince sat on opposite sides of the corridor. The motion-sensor lights had gone out, leaving only the faint glow of their cigarettes burning in the dark.

“I didn’t think Mr. Charles would come back,” she said after a while.

“Yeah,” Vince replied. “Guess that changes the plan.”

He stared into the smoke for a moment, thinking. “Since he wasn’t sent by the organization, that means the general doesn’t want to get involved with Axel this time.”

Rosaline tilted her head, her expression unreadable, lashes casting long shadows on her cheeks. “I still don’t get why.”

Vince exhaled slowly. “The higher you climb, the messier things get. I’ve stopped trying to understand. All I know is — both officially and personally — I’m keeping Axel on the team.”

Rosaline nodded slightly. She remembered what Xander had said back in Northern Suppression Town — Nolan’s orders. Axel wasn’t just talented. He was the key to uncovering the spy case. Protect him at all costs, and when the time came, he’d be transferred to an elite unit.

The elite squad’s combat capability couldn’t hold a candle to Obsidian’s.

A-level missions were rare—either large-scale military operations where units like Obsidian took center stage, or assignments meant for those powerful enough to stand toe-to-toe with a Level 6 Awakener.

To outsiders, Axel’s reassignment might have looked like a promotion.

But to Vince and the rest of the team, it felt premature—dangerously so.

Since the outbreak of the mutant beast tide, Krythos had been boiling over. Missions were piling up, each one tougher than the last. Even veteran teams were being pushed to their limits. For an elite squad, the risks were exponentially higher.

There was no such thing as “training rookies” in that world. Sending Axel there now would be throwing him straight into the fire.

“At this pace,” Vince said quietly, exhaling smoke, “he’ll make it to the elite squad sooner or later. I can’t stop that.”

He tilted his head back, lost in thought. His mind wandered to the first time he’d met Axel—the young man pale and bleeding, a knife wound in his gut, yet his eyes blazed like twin stars. Vince had watched that boy, alongside the Awakened and the Enforcement Bureau’s regular agents, take down one of the city’s most powerful men—a man none of them had even dared to speak against before.

Back then, Axel’s strength had been nothing compared to now. But Vince had seen something in his eyes that day—something fierce and unyielding. He’d known, even then, that this kid would rise far higher than any of them. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so damn fast.

Axel had secrets; everyone in the team knew that. But no one ever asked. They simply trusted him in silence.

“We’ll see what the General decides,” Vince said finally. “If the order comes, we’ll let him go. But until then, we’ve still got time.”

He looked over at Rosaline. For once, even her icy composure softened a little.

“Haven’t we already earned A-rank military merit?” she asked.

Vince grinned. “Maybe we’ll hit elite status before he leaves us.”

His voice echoed down the empty hallway—bright and confident, like a challenge thrown to fate. “What do you think, Rosaline?”

He held out a hand—slender, clean, hovering between them.

Rosaline blinked, then smirked. “Don’t push your luck.”

She flicked his finger and turned away, the hem of her coat brushing his knee as she walked off.

Vince stared at his hand, frozen midair, now literally crystallized in ice. “Hey… come on. At least thaw me out first.”

But Rosaline was already gone. With a sigh, Vince let out a small laugh and used his Force to crack the ice around his fingers. The shards tinkled softly as they hit the floor.