The explosion hurled Jinho through what used to be a solid concrete wall, debris scattering in his wake. Not ideal, but he'd come through worse. He landed hard on his side, the remnants of a bed frame crunching beneath him, and rolled with the impact. By the time he came up, he was already pulling on the Jade Emperor's blessing, the invocation instinctive. Golden script blazed down his right arm in intricate, living patterns, and the weight of divine authority settled over him—heavy, protective, absolute. It snapped into place just as another blast tore through the dust, a wave of purple-black energy that shrieked through the air like a living curse.
He braced his forearm, the golden barrier flaring, and the magic slammed into it with a hiss and a shower of sparks. Power met power—the stink of ozone and incense filled the air, a mingling of divine and infernal. Through the haze, a woman stepped lightly through the hole she'd made in the wall, her robes shimmering with shifting symbols, her smile unfazed by the destruction.
"Impressive reaction time," she said, her tone almost conversational, as if they were meeting at a tea house and not in the ruins of battle.
"Thanks. I practice getting thrown through walls every Tuesday," Jinho shot back, though his every nerve was taut. He felt the strain in his barrier, the Jade Emperor's blessing holding—barely—against the woman's relentless magic. Their powers tangled, sparking and snarling in the charged air.
She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. "You want to tell me why you have the Phoenix Seal?"
"Keeping it safe," she replied, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.
"Oh, that's what we're calling stealing these days? Nice spin." Jinho's tone was dry, but his mind raced. She hadn't lost her composure for a moment. That was dangerous.
Her smile didn't falter. She flicked her fingers, and the purple energy split like a serpent's tongue, curling around his shield from both sides. Jinho's mind snapped into focus—the Demon King's blessing twisted space around him, the world folding and warping, and he reappeared behind her in a blink.
He struck, his punch carrying the force of three blessings, enough to shatter stone. It should have landed. Should have sent her through the far wall.
Instead, she dissolved into smoke, her form unraveling, the air tasting of burnt cinnamon. She reformed three meters away, robes swirling. "You're fast. But a little predictable."
"She's playing with us," the Phoenix muttered inside his head, her mental voice edged with irritation.
"She's confident," the Jade Emperor observed, cool and analytical. "Either she has backup or she doesn't think we're a threat."
"Or both," the Demon King chimed in, his voice darkly amused. "My money's on both."
From somewhere deeper in the apartment, the sound of combat thundered—Tanaka was locked in battle with the middle-aged man. The sharp crackle of lightning, the flash of chi, someone shouting in pain, and the unmistakable sound of something massive colliding with the floor. Jinho didn't need a window to know how that fight was going.
The woman caught his eye, her expression bright and almost childlike. "Your partner's outmatched. Director Kim has had twenty years to master his blessing. She's barely had eight months."
"Director Kim?" Jinho echoed, recognizing the name from agency chatter.
She gave a nod, the light from her hands growing more intense. "The man in the other room. My boss. But you might want to worry about yourself."
She moved, suddenly and with the kind of speed that only came from a blessing—her body a blur, every strike precise, designed to kill. Jinho's world contracted to the dance of attack and defense. He met her blows with the Jade Emperor's strength, divine gold clashing with her shadowy purple. He slipped away with the Demon King's power, twisting space to dodge, but she adapted, cutting off his escapes, reading his every move.
She was relentless, pressing him with the confidence of someone who'd fought dozens of agents like him before—and won. "You're strong," she remarked, almost casually, even as she tried to crush his skull. "Triple-blessed. There are stories about you. They say you can take on Peak Master cultivators without breaking a sweat."
"They exaggerate," Jinho grunted. He caught her wrist, channeled the Jade Emperor's authority, and spoke a single word—"STOP."
The command, backed by divine compulsion, hit her like a wall. For a heartbeat, she froze.
Jinho seized the moment. He drove his knee up, powered by blessings, striking her hard enough to send her flying. She crashed through another wall—this building really was coming apart—and came to rest in a pile of plaster and splintered wood.
She started laughing, even as blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. The sound was breathless, but genuine, as if she'd just been handed the punchline to a cosmic joke.
"Good," she gasped, staggering upright, her smile undimmed by pain. "Very good. You're exactly as dangerous as they said."
"Who's 'they'?" Jinho pressed, wary now. She was bleeding, but she didn't seem worried—not in the slightest.
Her eyes glittered, the smile never leaving her lips. "You'll find out. Eventually." She wiped the blood from her chin, almost with pride. "Tell me, Agent Seo—do you truly believe you can stop us? Do you even understand what you're up against?"
He shrugged, forcing a cocky smile, though his heart was pounding. "I'm holding my own, aren't I?"
"Are you?" She took a step forward, her aura swelling, power rippling off her in waves. The room seemed to dim, the air thickening with the promise of more violence. "You're resourceful, I'll give you that. But you're not the only one who's been preparing for this day."
Jinho glanced towards the sounds of battle in the next room—Tanaka's labored breathing, the crash of furniture. He felt his allies' blessings stirring uneasily within him. He faced the woman, determination steeling his features.
"You're welcome to try me," he said, voice low.
She grinned, baring her teeth. "Oh, I intend to."
From the other room, Tanaka's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and urgent: "Jinho! The Seal!" Her words carried the weight of someone who knew, with chilling certainty, what would happen if they failed.
Jinho whirled, senses on high alert, peering through splintered walls and swirling dust. Director Kim stood in a shaft of ruined light, clutching the Phoenix Seal—both pieces, fused and pulsing with molten-red energy that painted his face in flickering crimson. Kim inched toward the shattered window, every movement measured, determined.
"Not happening," Jinho snapped, and with a twist of thought and will, teleported. The world wrenched and snapped back into place—he materialized between Kim and the window, heart hammering. "Drop it," he ordered, voice cold, hands ready to summon his blessings.
Kim regarded him with unsettling calm, his features eerily composed. Up close, Jinho noticed the deep lines etched into Kim's face, shadows of a life spent making hard choices—late forties, maybe early fifties, but his eyes burned with a clarity that made him seem ageless. Most people quailed when a triple-blessed agent confronted them. Kim didn't even flinch. He looked at Jinho like he was reading a book he'd already finished.
"Agent Seo. We finally meet for real," Kim said, voice smooth, almost courteous, as if they were business rivals at a conference rather than enemies in a crumbling ruin.
"Put down the Seal. We can have coffee after," Jinho replied, forcing levity into a situation that felt anything but light.
Kim's fingers tightened on the artifact, knuckles white. "Do you even know what this is? I mean, really know?" His voice was low, almost reverent.
Jinho's answer was immediate. "It's a prison. For a Primordial Spirit that wants to wipe us out. That's enough for me."
Kim shook his head, an edge of pity in his smile. "It's a catalyst, Agent Seo. It'll push humanity to evolve. Make us what we're supposed to be. We're not meant to cower behind walls, clinging to relics. This is our chance to become something greater."
"You mean by killing billions?" Jinho shot back, anger flaring. He'd heard justifications from zealots before, but Kim's conviction was colder, deeper. He believed he was saving the world—even if it meant breaking it first.
"By making sure the survivors are strong enough for what's coming." Kim's eyes lit up with that dangerous, messianic fire. "The world's ending already—climate collapse, resource wars, pandemics. We're only accelerating the inevitable. Humanity can't stay stagnant forever."
"Mass murder with a philosophy minor," Jinho muttered, disgusted.
"We're offering salvation," Kim replied, as if he truly believed it.
Tanaka appeared in the ruined doorway, blood streaking her face but her bearing unbowed. Light gathered between her hands, sunlight swirling at her fingertips, ready to strike. "Step away from the window," she commanded, her voice carrying the weight of command and threat.
Kim glanced at her, then back to Jinho, unruffled. "You can't stop this. Even if you take the Seal and lock it up again—we know where all seven are. We'll get them. We have time, patience, resources. More than you can imagine."
"Then I'll just stop you seven times," Jinho retorted, jaw tight.
Kim's lips twisted in a humorless smile. "Every time you fight us, every time you chase us... you're playing a game you don't even know the rules to." He paused, gaze distant, as if he saw the future unfolding. "You'll figure it out eventually."
Without warning, Kim dropped backward out the window.
Jinho lunged, but Kim was already in freefall. He landed two stories below, impossibly graceful, rising without a hint of pain—he was definitely blessed, and practiced at surviving the impossible. For a moment, he met Jinho's eyes through the ruined frame, then turned and melted into the shadows.
Before Jinho could process what had happened, a woman in ceremonial robes materialized at his side—her presence like a sudden chill. "Here. You win," she said, voice calm, almost amused.
She tossed the Phoenix Seal to Jinho—both pieces, still glowing, the heat of ancient fire radiating from them.
Jinho caught it on instinct. The moment his skin touched the jade, there was a jolt—not pain, but a shudder that ran down to his bones. The artifact radiated warmth, alive and pulsing, more than any fire relic he'd ever felt. The three blessings inside him stirred, uncertain, as if they recognized something vast and ancient lurking within the Seal. For a heartbeat, he felt the weight of an intelligence on the far side of the jade—something old, patient, and hungry, watching him.
Then it vanished.
Tanaka, still wary, called out from the doorway. "You're just giving it to us?"
The woman shrugged, a faint, crooked smile on her lips. "We can't win this one. Director Kim hates pointless sacrifices." She met Jinho's eyes, and for a moment he saw respect—or maybe warning. "We'll see you again soon."
She stepped out the window and dissolved into smoke before she hit the ground, her form scattering into the wind.
Jinho and Tanaka rushed to the window, scanning for any sign of pursuit. Kim and the woman were already disappearing into the jungle, their guards melting away, moving with the confidence of people who knew they'd lost a battle, not the war. They vanished with the kind of discipline that spoke of long preparation—and the patience of those who played for higher stakes.
Somewhere deep in the building, hidden supports groaned, and the floor beneath their feet trembled. The aftermath of the fight was catching up with the structure.
"We need to get out of here," Tanaka said, urgency in her voice. "Now."
Jinho stared down at the Seal, both pieces finally reunited, still pulsing with that unnatural warmth. Against all odds, they'd done it—they had the relic in their hands, the mission was technically a success. But the elation he'd expected never came; instead, a cold unease crept into his chest.
That was too easy, the Phoenix whispered in his mind, its voice sharp and suspicious.
She handed it over, the Demon King added. They fought hard, then just… gave up.
Or maybe they realized this was a lost cause, the Jade Emperor offered, though his tone betrayed uncertainty.
Maybe, Jinho muttered, doubts gnawing at him.
"What?" Tanaka asked, watching him with concern.
"Nothing. Let's find Narin and get out."
They found Narin in the room where the fight had begun, crouched beside an overturned table. She looked shaken but unharmed, eyes wide with fear and relief. She'd hidden when the chaos erupted—an act of self-preservation that might have saved her life.
"Is it over?" she whispered.
"For now," Jinho said, holding up the still-glowing relic. The Seal was heavy in his hands, the heat and power radiating into his bones. "We got what we came for."
They made it out with thirty seconds to spare—just before a groan of stressed metal signaled the roof's collapse, raining concrete and beams onto the spot where they'd been standing. Outside, the jungle pressed in—a tangle of leaves, humid air, and the faint calls of distant birds. For a moment, the chaos faded. The only sounds were the susurrus of the forest and the dying echoes of destruction behind them. The Covenant were gone, vanished as if they'd never been, and the building was coming apart piece by piece, each thud marking the end of another secret.
Jinho slid the Phoenix Seal into the inner pocket of his jacket, feeling the artifact's heat against his ribs. Safe, for now. Tucked away, locked down. He let out a long, shaky breath. They'd done it; the mission wasn't a disaster after all.
Back at the battered truck, Narin jammed the key into the ignition. The engine coughed, stuttered, and then caught with a shuddering growl. Relief flickered across Narin's face as they bounced over tangled roots and deep potholes, the truck's suspension protesting every inch.
As the dirt road unwound beneath them, Narin grinned, adrenaline still crackling in his voice. "That was exciting."
From the back seat, Tanaka pressed a bloodstained cloth to her eyebrow, her tone dry as dust. "That's one word for it. 'Exciting.' I'd say 'completely insane.' We were outnumbered, outgunned, and then—poof—they just stopped fighting."
Jinho glanced at her in the mirror. "We fought well."
"We fought okay," Tanaka said, eyes narrowing. "But don't kid yourself—they retreated on purpose. Doesn't that bother you? They had the Seal, they could have finished us, but instead they practically handed it over."
Jinho hesitated, the question echoing in his head. He'd wondered, too—why would the Covenant steal the Seal, only to give it up so easily? What were they playing at?
"Maybe they figured they couldn't keep it," he said, though the words felt hollow.
"Or maybe," Tanaka said, voice low, "they wanted us to take it."
Silence stretched, heavy and uneasy. Jinho stared out at the blur of green, hoping the landscape would offer answers. "They're Covenant," he said at last, trying to sound confident. "Half the things they do are just to mess with us. Don't let it get in your head."
"I'm not overthinking," Tanaka shot back, almost smiling. "I'm thinking exactly as much as I should."
"That's what every overthinker says." Jinho managed a tired grin.
She almost smiled, despite herself. "You're impossible."
"Yeah, so I've been told."
The truck lurched over a crater-sized pothole, sending everyone bouncing. Jinho slumped against the door, exhaustion settling in, heavy as wet concrete. His body ached—bruises blooming beneath his shirt, his limbs leaden. He'd tangled with a blessed agent, burned through divine energy like it was nothing, and now every muscle screamed protest.
"You burned through a lot back there," the Phoenix murmured, its presence warm and knowing in the back of his mind.
"That's how fights go," Jinho replied, too tired to argue.
The Jade Emperor's voice was sharper, concerned. "Your reserves are lower than expected."
"I'll catch some sleep on the plane," Jinho insisted. "I'll bounce back. Always do."
The Demon King just grunted, unconvinced but unwilling to argue.
As they drove on, the jungle began to thin, replaced by patchwork farmland and scattered villages. Civilization crept in with electric lights flickering on in the growing dusk. The distant glow of Chiang Mai shimmered, promising food, shelter, escape from the wild.
"How long to the airport?" Jinho asked, not really caring about the answer so much as needing something to hold onto.
Narin checked the rearview mirror, calculating. "Hour, maybe less. You calling your boss?"
"Soon as we land," Jinho said. He patted his jacket, feeling the Seal's unnatural warmth. "This thing needs to go straight into lockdown. No chances."
The heat pulsed—more than just a fire artifact's natural warmth, but he chalked it up to the aftereffects of the battle. It had to be.
Narin's eyes met his. "What about the other Seals? Kim said the Covenant knows where all seven are."
"Then we move faster," Jinho replied, determination flaring through his fatigue. "We chase down every lead, stay ahead, don't let them set the pace." He leaned back, eyelids heavy, the weight of responsibility settling hard on his shoulders. "One down, six left."
Narin laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You make it sound easy."
"It's not. It's just the job."
The truck rattled on, dust trailing behind them as the sky burned orange and scarlet, the sunset so dazzling that for a moment, it blotted out the darkness waiting at the corners of their lives. For a brief second, everything was simple: three people, a battered truck, and a mission finished. The world felt almost peaceful.
Jinho closed his eyes. Just a quick rest. He told himself it was normal to feel this tired—he'd fought a blessed agent, used three divine blessings, survived a collapsing building. Fatigue was the price of victory. He'd sleep on the flight to Seoul, wake up ready, and keep going. The next Seal, the next fight. Everything was under control.
They'd won. Mission done. Success—at least for now.
In the back, Tanaka watched Jinho, concern shadowing her face. She saw how pale he'd become, the way his hands shook ever so slightly, how he moved more slowly than usual. Maybe it was just the aftermath of battle, but something in her gut twisted—a warning she couldn't quite ignore. She glanced at his jacket, imagining the Phoenix Seal burning quietly inside, and wondered if they'd really escaped the Covenant's trap, or if they'd just stepped into something deeper.
Elsewhere, deep in the jungle, Director Kim stood with Yeonhee, the robed woman whose eyes reflected the last light of day. The ruined building behind them was little more than a silhouette.
"Phase one's finished," Kim said, satisfaction in his voice.
"He didn't notice," Yeonhee replied, her gaze distant. "The Seal's at about fifteen percent charge now."
Kim's fingers danced across his phone. "Fifteen percent, just from that one fight. Better than we projected." He looked up, eyes gleaming. "When he brings it to KSID HQ, when he hands it over, when he's around it for the debrief..."
Yeonhee finished his thought. "It'll keep charging. Quietly. Steadily. He'll think he's just tired from the mission."
"Exactly," Kim said, slipping his phone away. "One Seal moving. Six more to go."
Yeonhee's voice was cautious. "What if he catches on?"
"He won't. Not soon enough." Kim's smile was thin, almost predatory. "Triple-blessed agent. The strongest divine authority user alive. And he has no clue he's the key to all of it."
They turned and vanished into the trees, leaving the ruins of Ban Pong behind—a silent witness to the first moves of a larger game.
The Phoenix Seal was on its way to KSID headquarters. And Jinho, exhausted and unaware, was carrying not just the artifact but the enemy's hopes for the next phase. In his hands, the Seal was getting warmer—inch by inch, its power rising, its purpose still hidden.
As the truck rolled on beneath the painted sky, three people and a dangerous artifact sped toward their future, their victory already beginning to unravel.