Chapter 129: The Unwelcome Committee
The final, guttural syllable of Yuseong's incantation hung in the air. The intricate, glowing green runes he had painted onto reality itself pulsed once, violently, and then collapsed inward. Instead of a flash of light or a roaring vortex, the space in the center of the room simply… tore. It was a silent, unsettling rip in the world, a wound leaking a faint, sickly green luminescence. This was no majestic gateway; it was a furtive crack, a backdoor into the unknown.
There were no dramatic goodbyes, no final words of encouragement. This was a room of professionals. In a sequence of practiced, fluid movements, the six figures moved. First Ken and Shi Xiao, stepping through the shimmering tear with the synchronized grace of lifelong partners, their forms swallowed by the green haze without a sound. Then Daren Hale, his jaw set, followed a heartbeat later by Kai, whose eyes were already scanning the impossible space within the portal. Moon gave a lazy shrug, glanced at Ryo, who was already shuffling forward looking profoundly bored, and then they too stepped through. The green rift wavered for a moment after the last of them vanished, like a pond settling after a stone has dropped, and then it snapped shut with a soft, final sigh, leaving the room in silence.
---
Aetheria, South of the Sunken Canopy – The Shifting Expanse
The transition was not the usual, disorienting-but-brief lurch of a standard teleporter. For Kai, it felt like being stretched over an infinite distance, his consciousness pulled thin as a thread. There was no sound, no air, only a nauseating sensation of moving through a viscous, emerald-tinted nothingness.
Then, his shoes hit solid ground with a gritty thud. The world snapped back into focus with a jarring suddenness.
"Ohh," Kai gasped, bending over slightly, bracing his hands on his knees. "That was… very different from the usual teleporter experience." His stomach churned, and his head swam with a vertigo that the familiar red glow of their home teleporter never induced.
Beside him, Daren Hale let out a sharp, controlled breath. He was already standing straight, but his knuckles were white where he clenched his fists. "Unstable is an understatement," Daren agreed, his voice tight. "Felt like my brain was being scrambled. I have a headache building already."
Kai forced himself upright, taking deep, steadying breaths. The disorientation began to recede, replaced by the immediate need to assess their environment. They were standing in a tunnel, wide enough for a large vehicle to pass through, but shrouded in a deep, oppressive gloom. The air was cool and carried the damp, mineral smell of wet concrete and distant saltwater. The only light was a faint, ghostly illumination that seemed to seep from the tunnel walls themselves, casting long, dancing shadows that played tricks on the eyes. It was silent, save for the distant, rhythmic drip-drip of water and the low hum of machinery buried deep within the earth.
Okay, Kai's mind began to catalog, falling into a familiar, analytical rhythm. Reinforced concrete structure. Minimal lighting, likely to conserve power or for stealth. Humidity suggests proximity to the ocean. No immediate signs of life or—
His thoughts were cut off. A prickle ran up his spine, a primal warning system screaming to life. It wasn't a sound or a movement he saw, but a feeling—a shift in the pressure of the air, a collective intake of breath that wasn't their own. He froze, his eyes straining against the darkness ahead.
Daren sensed it a fraction of a second later. His body tensed, his hand instinctively in a fighting stance.
Then, it happened.
With a series of soft, simultaneous clicks, rows of harsh, white overhead lights flickered on, one after another, marching down the length of the tunnel away from them. Each click was like a hammer strike in the silence, each new pool of light revealing what the shadows had concealed.
The tunnel was not empty.
Standing in perfect, rigid ranks, stretching back as far as the eye could see, was an army. Hundreds of assassins, maybe thousands. They were all clad in identical, stark black formalwear—tailored suits, crisp trousers, polished shoes—a uniform that was both intimidating and absurd in this grimy, industrial setting. Their faces were impassive, their hands held ready at their sides. They had been waiting. In total silence. In the dark.
In a single, fluid motion born of countless hours of training, Kai and Daren fell back-to-back, their bodies automatically shifting into a defensive fighting stance. The air crackled with unleashed potential, the calm before a storm of violence.
"How did they know?" Daren hissed, his voice low and dangerous, his eyes scanning the sea of black-clad figures, calculating numbers, identifying potential squad leaders. "The Silent Portal is supposed to be undetectable."
Kai's mind raced, the analytical part pushing down the surge of adrenaline. "The plan was leaked," he stated, his voice cold and flat. It was the only logical conclusion. The precision of this ambush spoke of foreknowledge, not luck.
"Who?" Daren growled, the implication hanging heavy between them. Betrayal. It was the most poisonous word in their line of work.
Kai's jaw tightened. "Idk. Let's not focus on that right now." The 'who' was a problem for later, if they survived the 'what' that was currently standing before them.
---
In an identical tunnel, several hundred meters away, a similar green rift spat out two more figures.
Moon landed with a slight stumble, shaking his head like a dog shaking off water. "Ugh, feels like my insides got spun around."
Ryo Hale simply grunted, scratching his stubbled chin and looking around with an expression of profound disinterest that immediately vanished as the same sequence of lights clicked on, revealing an identical, endless column of black-suited assassins blocking their path.
Ryo's eyes widened, a rare flicker of surprise breaking through his usual apathy. "Oh, for—you have got to be kidding me," he groaned, his voice a low rumble. "There's a whole army in here. I knew I should have actually listened to that guy's plan."
Moon, a slow, unmistakable smile spreading across his face, didn't look surprised by the army. He looked pleased. A predator spotting worthy prey.
"Let's test out my new sword," he said, his voice laced with a dark eagerness. "The one the old man gave me."
His right hand went to the simple, unadorned silver band encircling his finger—his storage ring. With a faint whisper of mental command, the air in front of his palm shimmered. There was no flashy light, just a subtle warping of space as an object too large for the ring's dimensions was compelled into existence.
It materialized in his grip with a solid, weighty thud that seemed to vibrate through the very air of the tunnel. The sight of the weapon was almost as intimidating as the army before them.
It was impossibly long, giving him a look as of odachi , its total length surpassing Moon's own height. The handle itself was grotesquely elongated, nearly three-quarters the length of his arm, wrapped tightly in worn, off-white bandages that promised a secure, two-handed grip. The blade that emerged from this massive hilt was a brutal, unadorned blade of dark metal, its edge seeming to drink in the scant light. This was not a finesse weapon; it was a tool of pure, overwhelming destruction.
Moon had named it Ikazuchi—Thunderclap.
Seeing Moon ready his monstrous weapon, Ryo let out a short, sharp laugh that held no humor, only a resigned acceptance of the coming chaos. He cracked his neck, and his own energy began to radiate outwards, a visible heat haze shimmering around his grimy red robes. He settled into his own fighting stance, a lazy, almost careless posture that belied the incredible power coiled within.
The thousands of assassins in front of them began to advance, their footsteps echoing in a terrifying, unified rhythm.
The trap had been sprung. The battle for the Dark Veil Order had begun not with stealth, but with a roar.