Azure city greenhouse, lapis crest district.
Azura City slept beneath a veil of glass and steel.
At the heart of the city's upper district stood the Lapis Crest Greenhouse, a vast architectural relic suspended between nature and technology.
Its arched glass ceiling stretched like the ribcage of some dormant beast, each panel reinforced with transparent alloy veins that shimmered faintly under moonlight. Vines crept along its internal framework, glowing softly with bioluminescent fungi and algae engineered to glow only at night. Below, rare flora thrived in artificial soil beds, their leaves whispering whenever the air shifted.
It was beautiful.
And tonight, it was wrong.
Lian Ye stood within the shadows cast by an overgrown fig tree near the eastern wall, his presence so muted that even the insects avoided him. He had been there for over an hour, unmoving, breath slow, pulse deliberately uneven.
Something was coming.
He had felt it earlier, a pressure in his chest that had nothing to do with fear. A premonition, perhaps. Or instinct refined through reasons he could no longer recall clearly. Either way, it was the same feeling that always came before blood was spilled.
From what he had learned over the past few days, the Misfit Faction was not reckless. They investigated quietly. They pressed gently, then vanished. But tonight, that subtlety was gone.
And that told Lian Ye everything he needed to know.
"They're angry," he murmured to himself.
His plan was simple, if dangerous: intimidation through impersonation.
The God Order was a myth wrapped in terror. Secretive. Untouchable. Feared even by those who denied their existence. And fear, Lian Ye knew well, was a language spoken fluently by all factions.
Bai Qiren had proven that already.
One misunderstanding. One assumption. And a man who had once walked proudly now trembled at shadows.
If the Misfit Faction believed—even for a moment—that the God Order had taken interest in this case, they would back off. Not out of morality. Out of survival.
So Lian Ye waited.
---
Minutes passed.
Then the clouds began to move.
The moon disappeared behind a thick curtain of gray, and with it, the last natural light faded from the greenhouse. The bioluminescent plants brightened in response, casting ghostly blue and green hues across the glass walls.
That was when they arrived.
Six figures stepped through the western entrance without hesitation.
Lian Ye felt them before he saw them.
Tel Suyin walked at the center, posture straight, steps measured. His presence alone bent the air slightly, as if reality itself acknowledged his authority. Beside him was Rin Shen, silent and sharp-eyed, his hand never straying far from his weapon. A few paces behind them moved Kael Jinhai, the sniper—his gait relaxed, almost bored, as though this were a routine errand.
Three others followed, their faces obscured by black hoods, their movements practiced but tense.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, Lian Ye's vision blurred.
His eyelids grew heavy.
His thoughts slowed.
So that's it…
Tel Suyin's ability rolled through the greenhouse like invisible fog, subtle yet suffocating. It wasn't forced sleep—it was invitation. A gentle tug at consciousness, coaxing the mind into rest.
Lian Ye clenched his jaw.
His knees weakened for half a second.
No.
He forced his breathing into erratic patterns, disrupting the rhythm Tel's power sought to impose. Pain flared behind his eyes as he bit into his tongue hard enough to taste blood. The sharpness anchored him, but only barely.
"I can't stay like this for long".
One of the hooded men stepped forward.
He was tall, with short blond hair and striking blue eyes that reflected the glow of the plants. His boots stopped just inside the central walkway. He tilted his head downward, pupils dilating.
The world shifted for him.
From his perspective, the greenhouse floor lit up with footprints—countless overlapping impressions stretching in every direction. Some burned bright red, fresh and hot. Others glowed faint blue, old and fading. Time itself was written into the ground.
"Multiple movements," he muttered.
"Target's been here a while."
He took a careful step forward.
Then another.
And another.
Suddenly, his vision cut to black.
For half a second, he felt nothing.
Then his sight returned.
The footprints were gone.
No—there.
They reappeared all at once, but wrong.
Hot and cold overlapped chaotically, fresh prints sitting atop ancient ones, time signatures scrambled beyond recognition. There was no origin point. No trail. No logic.
His breath hitched. "What the—"
He blinked rapidly, trying to recalibrate.
The data refused to settle.
His ability wasn't blocked.
It was being lied to.
After several tense seconds, he straightened and turned back toward Tel Suyin, shaking his head once.
"Disrupted," he said quietly. "I can't track him."
Tel Suyin didn't respond immediately.
He stood still, golden pupils dim behind his glasses, expression unreadable. But inside, his thoughts raced.
So I wasn't wrong.
There was someone here.
Someone resisting his influence.
Someone whose presence flickered like a dying star—constantly on the verge of sleep, yet refusing to fall.
And more troubling still…
He's interfering with abilities.
Tel Suyin could feel him. Not see. Not pinpoint.
Just… sense.
A consciousness slipping between awareness and oblivion.
On the other side of the greenhouse, Lian Ye staggered silently. His vision tunneled. His legs felt like lead. That's it… I'm out of time. If he stayed hidden any longer, he would collapse. And if he collapsed, he would be found.
So he made a decision.
If I'm going down… I'm going down on my terms.
He moved.
Not forward.
Up.
The moment he shifted his weight, every member of the Misfit Faction felt it.
A ripple of intent passed through the air.
Instinctively, all six looked up.
Perched on a high ledge along the inner wall sat a lone figure, one leg dangling casually over the edge. His silhouette was sharp against the dim glow, cloak draped loosely, face half-hidden in shadow.
Before Kael Jinhai could raise his weapon—
The world tilted.
A wave of pressure slammed into their minds.
Headaches bloomed instantly, sharp and disorienting. Nausea followed, twisting their stomachs. Their limbs grew heavy, thoughts sluggish, senses dulled as if submerged underwater.
Abilities flickered.
Then stuttered.
Then refused to respond.
"What—" Rin Shen groaned, gripping his head.
Jinhai's vision blurred just enough to throw off his aim.
Tel Suyin felt it most clearly.
His control shattered—not broken, but overwritten.
The figure spoke.
"You all are from the Misfit Faction," he said calmly.
His voice carried without effort, smooth and steady, untouched by strain.
Silence answered him.
He continued anyway.
"I know why you're here. Revenge, investigation—it doesn't matter." His gaze swept across them, unseen yet undeniably felt. "You believe I'm connected to the death of one of your members."
No denial.
No confirmation.
Just truth stated plainly.
"But understand this," he went on. "I will only attack if offended."
The words were not a threat.
They were a boundary.
"I suggest you drop this case," he said softly, "before more people get hurt."
Tel Suyin straightened.
His golden pupils slowly shifted, tinged with orange as he focused every ounce of perception he had left on the figure above. He opened his mouth to speak—
And the clouds parted.
Moonlight poured through the greenhouse ceiling.
Something glinted.
Tel Suyin's breath caught.
The entire ceiling was filled with knives.
Thousands of them.
Blades of every shape and length hovered in absolute stillness, suspended inches apart, forming a lethal canopy. Each one reflected moonlight differently, creating a fractured constellation of cold steel.
They weren't aimed.
They were waiting.
One disturbance.
One wrong move.
And there would be no escape.
No angles.
No survivors.
For the first time that night, fear pierced Tel Suyin's composure.
Not panic.
Not terror.
Recognition.
This isn't a bluff.
The figure rose from the ledge and stepped away, walking openly now, boots touching the ground without sound. He passed beneath the knives, beneath their helpless stares, and moved toward the exit.
No one followed.
No one spoke.
They stood frozen as he walked out of their lives.
---
The moment he vanished from sight, the knives trembled.
Then turned to dust.
Steel dissolved into ash, drifting down like gray snow before fading into nothing.
Only silence remained.
And the knowledge that they had just let something terrifying walk away.