Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

“Wanted to… possess me?” Axel frowned. The word made their skin crawl as they recalled the woman’s unhinged smile.

“…You really didn’t give a damn about your own life.”

“The Saints are extremely cautious. When they strike, it’s always a clean, decisive hit. Out of their fourteen known targets, they’ve only failed once.” Riley paused, watching Axel closely. “You know that person.”

“Who?”

“Survey Corps—Mr. Sethan.”

Axel’s breath caught.

“Sethan? They dared to go after Mr. Sethan?”

If the Saints were capable of targeting someone like him, then this went beyond dangerous.

Seeing the worry on Axel’s face, Riley shook her head.

“That was back when Sethan was still a peak Level Five Awakener. The Saints only capture Awakeners below Level Five. We suspect there’s some sort of limitation at play.”

“After Sethan broke through to Level Six,” she continued, “they never touched him again.”

She tapped the table lightly, as if marking each point.

“Currently, we’ve identified eleven Saints. All peak Level Five. Their consistent targeting of sub–Level Five Awakeners is too deliberate to be coincidence.”

Axel let out a slow breath, tension easing just a fraction. That strange, deranged woman from before resurfaced in his mind like a bad dream.

“So if I reach Level Six,” he said, “they’ll stop coming after me?”

Riley nodded.

Axel suddenly stood up.

“It’ll take me ages to get there. But if they’re already hunting me… then why not use me as bait?”

Riley studied him—as though he were some rare creature defying classification.

“You are a remarkably strange person,” she murmured.

“It’s fine.” Axel narrowed his eyes. The memory of Charles—hair and beard turned white, life burning away—stabbed through him. “If they want me, we use that.”

“It won’t work.” Riley shook her head. “The military already tried. The Saints are too cautious. They only attack when they’re completely certain they’re safe. Your situation was an anomaly.”

Axel frowned.

“How can they be that sure they’re safe? Just surround me. Ambush them.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what was attempted.” Riley raised a finger. “But there are two problems.”

“First, Level Six Awakeners don’t grow on trees. Even if you station one nearby, how long can you keep them there? The Saints have more patience than you think.”

“After Sethan’s incident, the Survey Corps and Whisper Syndicate launched a joint operation. Three Level Six Awakeners shadowed his perimeter day and night. Full secrecy. A whole month.” She gave a smile. “The Saints never appeared.”

Axel grit his teeth.

“Then what’s the second problem?”

Riley leaned back slightly, voice quieting.

“I need to capture a living Saint… or at least obtain a corpse. If the military intervenes, I won’t get either. And if I formally request resources, my identity risks exposure.”

Axel blinked.

“…Why do you need a Saint’s corpse?”

Riley turned her monitor toward him. A 3D animation played, showing a model of a body cell mutating, stabilizing, then crystallizing.

“This is my first drug,” she said. “It suppresses infection in Awakeners and helps them return to normal.”

“But it’s useless once someone fully mutates.”

“And for healthy Awakeners, its preventative effects last only two weeks. Far below expectations.”

“Saints can freely transition between infected and human forms. Their bodies might contain what I need. Maybe a protein sequence, maybe a structural enzyme—something that bridges the two states.”

Axel’s mind spun.

“Are you sure the Saints really have that?”

“No,” Riley said bluntly. “But the probability is high. And I need detailed dissections and live experimentation to confirm.”

Axel’s heart tightened. His sister flashed through his mind—her face, her voice. He would never, ever, hand her over for that.

Riley continued, unaware of the sudden storm in his thoughts.

“The Saints’ organization has its own intelligence web. They coordinate with certain Infected factions. Our directive is for you to remain in Everton City until you reach Level Six—and not leave.”

She looked him in the eye.

“Everton is packed with high-tier experts. The Saints wouldn’t dare attack you here.”

Not leave Everton until Level Six?

Axel’s first instinct was to refuse outright. He was still a Whisper Syndicate operative. His place was with his squad.

But the words stuck in his throat.

Because Charles’s voice—quiet, old, full of hope—echoed in his mind:

“They’ll do everything they can to protect you. Your road ahead… will only get more dangerous.”

Vince’s warm grin.

Millers’s stupid enthusiasm.

Rosaline’s occasional scolding.

They all resurfaced one by one, like a silent parade.

Then Kaia—

“Axel, who is that person? She’s after you. Please… tell me.”

Riley exhaled softly. She already knew everything. Millers had told her the full story days ago.

“So you have to leave Obsidian,” she said gently. “You might not want to, but this is—”

“No.”

Axel turned away, each word firm, measured, and absolute.

“I will withdraw from Obsidian.”

Riley’s expression softened.

“A wise decision. For your sake—and for Obsidian’s.”

“The higher-ups at Whisper Syndicate will support it. But… they won’t tell Obsidian anything about the Saints.”

She paused.

“Your withdrawal may damage your relationships with them. Are you prepared for that?”

Axel nodded. Quiet. Resolute.

Seeing Axel lapse into silence, Riley considered for a moment before speaking gently,

“I know you care deeply about them. But I don’t recommend playing the tragic hero.”

Axel smiled faintly. He walked over to the vase, leaned down, and inhaled the scent of the roses.

“Let the good memories stay in the past. I don’t want them dying because of me. Don’t worry—I know what to say.”

Watching the relaxed expression on the young man’s face, Riley was briefly distracted, caught off guard by how calm he looked.

Axel changed the subject.

“I’ll handle Obsidian myself. But once I reach Level Six here in Everton, the Saints will completely give up on me, right?”

“That’s correct,” Riley replied. “You can be at ease.”

Axel shook his head slowly. His eyes cooled.

“I’m not at ease. I’m… unwilling.”

Riley’s pupils tightened.

“You want revenge.”

That woman’s face—beautiful and ghostlike—flashed through Axel’s mind, finally freezing on the image of Charles’s hand falling lifelessly to his side.

“Besides me,” he said quietly, “who’s more suitable to hunt them?”

“You’re very confident.” Riley’s tone sharpened. “But they failed once. The next time, they won’t come alone. And they won’t strike when there’s a Level Six Awakened protecting you.”

“This isn’t a suggestion, kid. It’s an order.”

A voice boomed from outside as the doorframe groaned. A massive figure squeezed his way inside, like a walking slab of flesh and muscle. He stood well over two meters tall, his belly bulging like an overfilled barrel. Every step made Riley’s wooden floor creak in protest.

“Let me introduce myself,” the man said, grinning. “Organization member. Codename—Butcher.”

Centipede-like scars slithered across his face. His eyes were small, buried in thick layers of flesh. His smile was fierce, almost predatory.

“You’re fast,” Riley said with a slight nod.

Butcher glanced at the chair beside him, hesitated, then decided against sitting.

“The organization values this kid quite a lot,” he said, cracking open a bag of dried meat and shoveling it into his mouth. “Someone the Saints are watching is always a big deal. Your name’s Axel, right?”

He chewed loudly.

“You’ll be safe in Everton. Just in case, I’ll guard you for a while. Protection fee—waived this time.”

Within seconds, the entire bag was gone.

Axel looked from the towering butcher to Riley, then asked calmly,

“Protection… or surveillance?”

Butcher burst into laughter, clapping his hands as crumbs flew to the floor.

“Smart kid. I’ll be tailing you in secret. You’d better behave. If you run once, I’ll break your leg.”

He said it with a grin, but his eyes were cold.

“You’re a Level Six Awakener,” Axel said. “Spending all your time guarding me—doesn’t that interfere with your own work?”