Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

Three terrifying surges of primal force exploded skyward from the depths of the unknown mountains. Even the oppressive storm clouds above scattered violently in response.

The earth trembled. The world’s primal force seemed to awaken, rushing toward the three without restraint. None of them attempted to conceal their presence.

Not long after, within a fortress-like structure bristling with machinery deep inside Krythos, a short, elderly man paused while adjusting a mechanical puppet. He walked onto a circular platform at the top of the structure.

“Jerome… you’re reckless.” He shook his head, tossed the puppet aside, and vanished.

Within Everton, three auras surged into the sky.

“Soren has already left Rutherford. Wait for him.”

The dark clouds above were torn apart by the unintentional pressure of the three newly advanced powers.

They were like three blazing suns, briefly pushing back the gloom wherever they passed.

Soon after, a fourth aura arrived, accompanied by roaring winds. The four gathered, glanced once at the city behind them, and disappeared again.

......

Back atop the mountain, Nolan and the other two withdrew their surging primal force and sat cross-legged, stabilizing their realms.

Hundreds of meters away, Jerome—who had been calmly reading scriptures while perched on the branch of an ancient tree—looked up.

Four elderly men stood not far away, each with a distinct presence, yet all radiating a suffocating pressure.

“Jerome,” said Tadeo calmly. He wore a simple white training uniform. “We need to talk.”

Jerome smiled and stepped down from the branch, appearing before them in an instant.

“Mr. Tadeo.”

To Tadeo’s left stood Kelvin, the silver-haired patriarch of the Goldleaf family, clad in armor and a metal mask.

To his right was Orson, the youngest-looking of the group, draped in a red cloak—the arrogant head of the Oakridge family.

Standing slightly behind them was Soren, patriarch of the Blackthorn family, his expression gentle, his eyes deep and steady.

“Everyone’s here,” Tadeo said flatly. “General Jerome, it’s time for an explanation.”

Twenty years ago, after discovering that Sea Realm thinned the world’s primal force, an agreement had been made: only those with top-tier combat-type awakened talents—or exceptional combat power—could enter the Sea Realm.

“General Jerome,” Tadeo continued, “you agreed to those terms. We even promised Sethan that he would one day reach the Sea Realm. So what exactly are you doing today?”

At that moment, Nolan and the others stepped up behind Jerome, their presence heavy.

The mountain air grew tense, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

......

Jerome inclined his head slightly, then raised a hand and pointed toward the roiling dark clouds overhead.

“She’s about to wake up,” he said calmly. “And when she truly does, it will be the next apocalypse for Krythos. That’s why I want all of you to come with me and kill her. Not just you—but every awakened in Krythos who is capable of advancing to the eighth level of the Sea Realm. I intend to make them all break through.”

The temperature, already bitter, dropped even further as his words fell.

“You intend to kill her while she’s still asleep?”

Soren, the oldest among them, stepped forward until he stood level with the others, his voice slow and steady.

“Yes, Mr. Soren,” Jerome replied evenly.

The wind howled across the mountaintop, scattering snow and carrying with it a low, mournful sound that seemed to echo from the earth itself.

Tadeo let out a soft laugh. “Has your cultivation progressed too quickly, General? Is that why your confidence has grown so… recklessly?” His gaze sharpened. “You weren’t there. You didn’t fight her. You have no idea how terrifying that being truly was.”

“I do,” Jerome said quietly. “I know you gentlemen have lived in the shadow of that battle ever since. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have imposed a ban on entering the Sea Realm—quietly tolerating all manner of schemes to delay the evolution of the Awakened.”

The air grew tense, the calm shattering like thin ice.

“But I also remember,” Jerome continued, his voice firm, “that the predecessors who sacrificed themselves back then made a vow. They wished that one day, Krythos would reclaim its lost territory—and push even farther into the world.”

Silence followed.

“The Spider Project,” Soren finally said, gazing northward, “jointly launched by the Upper House and the military, has already shown results. Within a few years, Krythos’s population will surge. If this pace continues, reclaiming our former lands is only a matter of time. Jerome… why are you in such a hurry?”

Jerome shook his head gently.

“Decades of peace have dulled your fear of the Beast Kings,” he said softly. “But they were never Krythos’s true enemy. You know that.”

Tadeo’s eyes narrowed. “And if we refuse?”

Before Jerome could answer, Soren spoke first.

“He has a point.”

Tadeo turned sharply, disbelief flashing across his face. “Soren—”

“Sixty years ago,” Soren continued, unfazed, “when that being first made her move, I understood something. As long as she exists, even a non-aggression pact with the Beast Kings is meaningless.”

He said no more.

Tadeo’s expression darkened as he turned to Kelvin and Orson.

“Orson?”

Orson brushed the snow from his red cloak and grinned, arrogance written plainly across his face.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I just didn’t feel like arguing with you old men.” His smile sharpened. “If things end the same way they did sixty years ago, then what’s the point of living on?”

Tadeo’s face flushed with anger. “You didn’t say that when we came.”

Orson snorted. “Since when do I need your permission to speak?” He shrugged. “That said, I haven’t agreed to Jerome yet. I want to hear the actual plan.”

With no satisfaction to be found there, Tadeo finally turned to Kelvin.

The armored patriarch, silent until now, lifted his cold gaze to Jerome.

“General Jerome,” Kelvin said slowly, “do you actually have the resources to drag us old men to our deaths?”

Orson nodded, suddenly serious.

“You wouldn’t mind fighting outnumbered, would you, General?”

Tadeo clenched his teeth. Shameless bastards.

Jerome tightened his grip on the scroll and smiled faintly.

“That would be ideal.”

......

A dozen minutes later, Jerome bowed politely to the four elders.

“Thank you for your willingness. I’ve already drafted a detailed plan. Give me three days to gather everyone I can. Gentlemen—make your preparations.”

None of the five bore visible wounds, yet the expressions on Tadeo and the others were grim.

After a long silence, Orson waved a hand impatiently.

“Fine. I get it. Leave Krythos’s politics to the younger generation. Go do what you need to do.”

The four elders rose into the air and departed.

They flew until the mountains behind them vanished from sight—then stopped abruptly.

Looking at one another, they realized their faces were flushed far more deeply than before.

Suddenly, Tadeo spat out a mouthful of blood.

The other three followed suit, coughing blood as well, their auras weakening.

“How the hell did he train like that?” Tadeo snarled. “He’s stronger than last time.”

Cracks spread across Kelvin’s armor, metal plates splintering. He calmly stored the damaged pieces in his spatial artifact.

“That’s a good thing,” he said. “Otherwise, going north would be pure suicide.”

Orson wiped the blood from his sleeve without ceremony and chuckled.

“Maybe this time… there really is a chance. Just a shame about Reginald. I haven’t seen him in decades.”

At the mention of Reginald—the head of the Remington family—their expressions darkened.

Sixty years ago, several of Krythos’s strongest warriors, led by General Micah, had died. The five survivors later established the great families, becoming the pinnacle of Krythos’s power.

Only Reginald had paid a lasting price—his soul damaged by a joint attack from two Beast Kings, never fully recovering.