Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

“I—I don’t know!” Zane shouted, panic creeping into his voice. “I didn’t see him! I swear!”

He was telling the truth.

After nearly three months in Everton, Zane had long since dropped his old suspicions about Axel. Axel had never asked him to do anything strange—never even hinted at it.

“You don’t know…” Butcher muttered.

He exhaled sharply, forcing down the murderous urge surging inside him, then flung Zane aside like trash.

The next instant, his massive body launched forward like a cannonball, vanishing in seconds.

“Zane.”

“Boss.”

“Are you alright?”

Zane waved him off, still shaken, staring at the direction Butcher disappeared. He swallowed hard.

“So damn terrifying…” he muttered. “Axel… you really did have a reason for sending me here.”

.....

Back in the villa district, Riley sensed a violent surge of Force.

He paused mid-trim, the rose bush half-cut in his hand, and instantly spread his Force over the villa and courtyard.

A moment later, Butcher appeared—eyes bloodshot, breathing uneven.

“Axel ran.”

Riley’s pupils shrank. “How did he get away? Weren’t you watching him?”

“I was watching him!” Butcher snapped, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably. “I saw him enter the processing plant—the one that sells beast meat. He’s been there dozens of times. Nothing’s ever gone wrong!”

“That place has no underground passages. One exit. From where I stood, I could see everything.” His voice trembled. “I didn’t see him leave.”

Riley closed his eyes, took a slow breath, then spoke calmly. “I’ll inform Aurelion and the military. Go back and search again.”

Butcher set the bag of meat and beer on the table, his voice thick with conflict. “What if… he’s just messing with me? What if he comes back?”

Riley shook his head, back turned. “Don’t you get it? He’s been buying from that plant for months. He had Zane distract you. He drank with you to lower your guard.”

“Everything he did was for today.” Riley’s voice was quiet but firm. “I told you—Axel is very good at hiding who he really is.”

Butcher’s thick lips twitched. He said nothing, turned around, and left.

Ten minutes later, nearly every butcher and meat vendor in Everton closed early.

The streets filled with men carrying cleavers, their clothes reeking of blood and meat, spreading out to search.

.......

Whisper Syndicate’s private hospital.

Third floor. Ward 303.

Members of the Obsidian Squad sat scattered around the room, the atmosphere heavy.

“Captain… will Rosaline be okay?” Kaia asked softly, her eyes red as she looked at Rosaline suspended unconscious in the green solution.

“Yes,” Vince replied. “The doctor said it’s only a matter of time.”

He turned. “Phoenix, how are the prosthetic eyes?”

Everyone looked at Phoenix.

During the battle, a man wearing a Pheasant mask had gouged out his eyes and infused corrosive energy into the wounds. To stop it from spreading to his brain, Phoenix had torn the eyeballs out himself.

Now, a metallic eye glowed faintly red where his sharp gaze once had been.

Phoenix chuckled. “Pretty useful. Just ugly as hell. Guess finding a wife just got harder.”

“The Saints shouldn’t have been our targets,” Humphrey suddenly said.

His hair was messy, his posture slack—he looked drained, worn down, far more despondent than usual.

“Humphrey,” Vince said, “this mission was an exception. Syndicate operations aren’t normally this brutal.”

“I’m not scared,” Humphrey snapped. “I just think jobs like this should be handled by geniuses. People like Axel.”

Frowns spread around the room.

Humphrey looked up, no longer bothering to hide his bitterness.

“I know how you all feel about him. No matter what I do, I’ll never replace Axel in your hearts.” He scoffed. “But tell me—who’s best suited to hunt them? A genius like Axel.”

“So what is this?” Humphrey’s voice rose. “The geniuses get protection, resources, backing—and we’re supposed to charge in and die? This is their job. If they don’t do it, then they’re cowards.”

Silence fell.

Vince’s furrowed brows eased slightly.

Phoenix finally spoke, voice calm. “Humphrey… Axel isn’t a coward.”

Humphrey laughed bitterly. “You all care too much about him. Honestly, I envy that.” He waved a hand. “Forget it. Just… my own bitching.”

Just then, Vince’s phone rang.

He listened for only a few seconds before his gentle expression tightened.

After hanging up, he took a slow breath and looked around the room. “Axel’s gone. The military and Everton police are conducting a joint search right now.”

“Gone?”

Everyone froze.

“Where the hell could he have gone?” someone muttered.

Phoenix stood up and placed a hand on Humphrey’s shoulder. “There’s only one answer.”

He paused. “He went after the Saints.”

Humphrey stared at him, stunned. “Are you kidding me? He’s been laying low in Everton for months—why now—”

“Because that kid never moves unless he’s ready,” Millers said with a crooked smile, turning back toward the door.

“Gear up,” Vince ordered. “We’ll cooperate with the military. If we find him, good. But if Axel wanted to disappear…” His eyes darkened. “He won’t let us catch him.”

As the team rushed out, Vince lingered behind, looking at Rosaline suspended in the green solution.

“Rosaline,” he murmured, “that kid’s stirring up trouble again.”

......

Whisper Syndicate Headquarters.

A massive holographic display flickered to life. Six team leaders and four elite squad captains appeared in their seats.

“We’ve received notification from Riley, Vice President of the Biomedical Society,” a voice announced. “Axel—an important military asset and a key target of the Saints—has gone missing approximately ninety minutes ago.”

“Axel recently completed two months of secluded cultivation. Upon waking, he visited his former teammate Rosaline at our private hospital. We believe that after learning of Rosaline’s injuries, he made the decision to draw the Saints’ attention away.”

“No trace of Axel has been found so far. His physical data has been distributed to all Whisper Syndicate squads nationwide, as well as affiliated action teams. Remain on high alert.”

The holograms dimmed one by one.

Xander leaned back in his chair, teeth clenched. “I want my people to take down the Saints,” he muttered. “But not at the cost of your lives, damn it.”

.......

“What about the Ministry of Defense?”

“No,” came the reply. “Maurice is out executing Upper House orders. He’s not in Everton. No one else has the authority to mobilize them.”

Back in the villa district, Butcher slumped into a chair, looking utterly defeated.

“Aurelion doesn’t blame you,” Riley said quietly. “You’re not the first person Axel’s fooled. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

For three months, Butcher had been glued to Axel’s side.

And it had all been a lie.

He’d been played—thoroughly, cleanly, like a damn amateur.

“Little bastard…” Butcher tilted his head back, crushed an empty beer can in his hand, then let out a rough laugh, all bitterness swept away. “You’ve got some nerve pulling this on me.”

He stood, eyes burning.

“When you get back, I’m beating the shit out of you first. Then we’ll drink properly.”

His voice dropped. “So don’t you dare die out there.”

.......

Headlights cut through the darkness as a long-haul truck thundered down the highway, barreling forward like a charging beast.

On the freight route between Everton and Western Bridgeport, traffic was sparse at night. From the air, you could spot a single heavy truck every few kilometers.

Inside the metal cargo crates lay the carcasses of mutated beasts—two to three meters long. Defective shipments returned to Everton due to spoilage or failed inspections.

Even so, they were still valuable commodities in less affluent cities.

The metal containers clanged rhythmically as the truck rolled on, a sound the driver barely noticed anymore.

The vehicle entered a tunnel. Darkness swallowed the cargo hold.

Inside one crate, a direwolf—long dead, stiff with rigor—suddenly sat upright like a man rising from sleep.