“Then they’ll just stay confined for now,” Sethan said, his voice carrying a hint of regret. “They’re soldiers. They understand the military’s stance, and they’re willing to comply with whatever orders come down.”
That was the difference between the army and the aristocratic families or the freelance Awakened out of the Havoc Division — discipline.
“We’re here. Go in and see for yourself.”
Axel stepped inside alone. Sethan remained by the door. Sure enough, floating in the air was a faint green sphere of light, smaller than a normal Level 5 Life Crystal.
“Thanks for the gift, spy.” Axel smirked, pocketing the glow.
After hundreds of collections, his technique was flawless. Even if someone stood right beside him, they wouldn’t notice. And with the Space Capsule, concealment was absolute.
Joel. Level 5 Awakener. Knew there was no escape. Bit down on a hidden poison capsule. His final thought was of his homeland.
The crystal’s message was weaker than Jeremiah’s had been — likely because forty-eight hours had already passed. Still, it was enough to tell Axel what he needed: these men were connected to Stormhold Imperium.
“How’d it go?” Sethan asked as soon as he stepped back out.
Instead of answering, Axel gestured for another cell.
Sethan’s lips twitched into a rare smile. “This way.”
Each prisoner was bound with Original Instruments that suppressed Force and psychic energy, and the cells were deliberately spaced apart. Axel moved from one to the next, collecting the fragments, reading them in silence.
Jacky. Stormhold Imperium. Level 4 Awakener. Suicide.
This crystal was even smaller, but the confirmation sent a sharp gleam into Axel’s eyes.
“They’re Stormhold Imperium. No doubt about it,” Axel said at last.
Sethan froze. He hadn’t expected Axel’s Undead Guide skill to still work on spirits long after the forty-eight-hour mark.
“Axel… you’re a goddamn genius.” The words came rare and genuine from Sethan, who almost never praised anyone.
“Mr. Sethan,” Axel asked, “if they really are Stormhold Imperium, can we trace the network behind them?”
“The WanderingFellowship,” Sethan’s expression darkened. "When the Imperium fell, some of their refugees fled here — Awakened among them. Out of both humanitarian concerns and practical need, Krythos took them in. They banded together, formed the Fellowship. Strong, united, and useful enough that the authorities let them be. Over the decades, most of their descendants blended in as Krythosians.”
He sighed, his voice dropping heavy. “If you hadn’t uncovered this, I’d never have connected the dots. But who else could rewrite records, infiltrate our military, and pull this shit off? Goddamn it… is there any trust left in this world?”
Axel couldn’t help twitching a smile at Sethan’s dramatic despair.
“So… do we start investigating the Fellowship now?” he asked carefully.
Sethan shook his head. “Not yet. Everything we’ve got is circumstantial. And don’t forget — Wandering Fellowship still has a handful of Divine Might Realm survivors. Some are cozy with certain aristocratic families in the Senate. Even if General Jerome moved against them, he’d hit a wall of resistance.”
That gave Axel pause. The textbooks said the military was under the command of the Senate and the King. But after what happened in Drakenfall, and now this, it was obvious: General Jerome didn’t treat the Senate like superiors. More like… political partners.
“Not enough evidence, huh?” Axel murmured, his mind already racing back to the detainee he’d glimpsed earlier in the corridor.
“Mr. Sethan,” Axel said slowly, “I’ve got a plan. Might be worth trying. But I’ll need you to cooperate with me personally.”
The two stood in the restricted zone, no one else around. To any onlooker, it would’ve looked absurd: Axel, just a Syndicate operative, speaking in a rush — and Sethan, commander of the Survey Corps, nodding along like a schoolboy hanging on every word.
......
Two hours later, a military transport touched down at the Northern Suppression Town airstrip. From it stumbled a bewildered figure.
“Axel, you bastard, you nearly scared me to death! I thought I’d fucked up somewhere and was about to lose my head!” It was none other than Zane.
Sethan gave him a curious once-over. At his level, it was easy to tell the man standing before them was only a Level 2 Awakener. “This is the friend you were talking about?”
“Yeah,” Axel replied. “Time’s short, so we’ll just have to make do.”
Zane shot him a dark look. Make do? What the hell did that mean?
“Zane, how’s your Stormhold?”(a language)
Zane scratched at his hair. “Uh, decent. Enough for basic conversation. Why?”
The moment he spoke, Sethan’s eyes lit up. Hardly anyone bothered with Stormhold anymore. When Axel had first pitched his plan, Sethan had considered pulling someone from the military—but that kind of move would’ve been way too obvious, practically begging any hidden spies to catch wind of it. Letting Axel find someone himself was far cleaner.
“That’ll do,” Axel said. “Complete this mission, and I’ll see to it you’re properly rewarded. Come—I’ll run you through a few things. The rest is up to you.”
Zane blinked, still lost. “Axel, I’m charging you for this one. No more free labor.”
The frustration in his voice was real. He hadn’t managed to snag any good land during his last trip to Northern Spiritual Town, and instead wound up burning through his supplies helping the Ministry of Defense push back mutant beasts. He’d covered Axel’s ass plenty of times for nothing. But now that his resources were running thin, the freeloading had to stop.
“Relax,” Axel said. “You’ll get paid. I’ll make sure of it.”
Sethan nodded firmly. “I’ll guarantee it myself.”
That only made Zane squint suspiciously. “Yeah? Then maybe call your boss so I know I’m not being scammed?”
Sethan rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling oddly deflated.
Axel cleared his throat. “Introductions. Mr. Sethan—head of the Survey Corps.”
“Uh…” Zane froze, his face twitching.
“Alright, enough. Time to put your acting chops to work again,” Axel said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I know you can pull this off.”
Minutes later, Axel checked with Zane one last time. “Got it memorized?”
Zane nodded eagerly. His eyes gleamed at the mention of acting. “Hell yeah. Let’s go.”
Axel smiled. “Good. Then it’s showtime.”
......
Keys jingling in hand, Zane pushed into the detention block. His expression shifted instantly, his usual flippant air replaced by a sober edge. Nerves flickered in his eyes, but there was also a heavy sense of purpose—as if he were carrying out a grave mission.
The first cell door creaked open. A bald man sat inside, shackled with heavy chains. When Zane entered, the man gave a faint smile.
“It’s not lunch yet,” he said softly. “Why are you here so early?”
Zane shut the door behind him. The overhead lights sputtered, the red glow of the surveillance system flickering out for a moment.
The prisoner’s expression tightened.
Zane didn’t say a word. He crossed the cell, crouched down, and began unfastening the chains around the man’s waist.
“What the hell are you doing?” the man asked blankly.
“Don’t talk. I’m here to get you out.”
The bald man blinked in disbelief, then gave a weary smile. “I’m not a spy. This is a test, isn’t it? The military sent you to trip me up. Find somebody else—I’m not playing.”
Zane’s jaw set. He stared him down and spoke again, this time in clipped Stormhold: “If you don’t come with me, it’ll be too late.”
The man looked even more confused. “Man, what the fuck are you saying?”
Ignoring him, Zane pressed on, repeating Axel’s carefully rehearsed lines word for word, his tone grave, urgent. The prisoner just leaned back and smirked, like he was watching some cheap stage play.
“You people really go all out,” he chuckled. “I have no idea what you’re babbling about. Go on, get out of here.”
Zane’s lips twitched. He’d delivered those lines perfectly, poured his heart into the performance—and this guy looked at him like he was some clown in a circus act. If this bastard really is a spy, then it’s not my acting that needs work—it’s Axel’s damn plan.