Vince moved with effortless grace, each motion precise, almost elegant. Then came a harsh, grating screech of metal, cutting through the tense silence. The entire ground sank.

  With a light step, Vince pressed his foot down, and nearly five square meters of flooring collapsed beneath him.

  A wave of light spilled into the exposed underground chamber, along with the unmistakable stench of blood.

  Nash, Cross, and several others recoiled in horror. The gathered reporters surged forward, eager for a better look—until they actually saw what lay below.

  "Oh, fuck—" Someone gagged. A few others weren’t as lucky, turning away to vomit.

  “What is this?!”

  Below them, several figures in white coats stood in the middle of their work—stuffing dismembered limbs into massive iron vats, the flesh melting away into a thick, unidentifiable slurry. Piles of corpses filled the cramped space, bodies stacked like garbage.

  Axel swallowed hard. The smell alone made his stomach churn.

  “This stench…” Vince’s voice was calm, steady. “The stench of infected corpses. Mr. Wolfe, it looks like your hands aren’t as clean as you claimed.”

  The room seemed frozen in time. No one had ever expected it. One man. Four simple cuts. And Vince had sliced straight through a high-strength alloy plate like it was paper.

  "What level of Awakened is he?" Axel thought, still lightheaded from blood loss, as he stared at Vince in awe. He had never seen anything like this before—not in Dune, not in any of the heavily censored news reports. He had assumed high-level Awakened were simply more skilled at controlling their abilities.

  But this? This was something else entirely.

  A choked gasp cut through the silence. “Run!”

  The confidence Wolfe had carried just moments ago had completely shattered. His face was pale, his eyes wild with panic. In sheer desperation, he lunged for Nash, grabbing him like a human shield as he made a break for the door.

  He didn’t make it two steps. A flash of silver. Blood spurted from both men’s legs. They crumpled to the ground with strangled screams.

  Axel felt a chill creep up his spine.

  He had thought he understood power before. He had faced Awakened opponents. He had fought infected ones. He had learned to survive, to hold his own.

  But watching Vince work, watching the way he cut through his enemies like they were nothing, Axel realized— He was nowhere near this level.

  Silence blanketed the room.

  Vince flicked the blood from his rapier and sheathed it with practiced ease. His expression remained unreadable as he turned toward the stunned reporters.

  He said quietly. “Go ahead and report it.”

  No one spoke. No one moved.

  The reporters, who just moments ago had been brimming with righteous energy, suddenly looked as though they’d rather be anywhere else. Not a single one dared meet Wolfe’s gaze. After all, they had all been bought by him.

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  But now? Wolfe was finished. Everything he had built—his power, his influence, his ambitions—had just been erased by the sword of this one quiet man.

  For a moment, there was nothing. Then, one reporter hesitantly lifted his camera.

  The click of the shutter shattered the stillness.

  The others snapped out of their daze, scrambling to record everything—this was front-page material, the kind of breaking news that would shake the entire city.

  Vince, unfazed by the flashing cameras, turned away. He stepped toward Skye, Freya, and Vexler, who stood there, still processing everything.

  The exhaustion on their faces was unmistakable.

  Bloodshot eyes. Unkempt hair. Dirt, sweat, and dried blood streaking their skin.

  Even though they were Awakened, they had reached their limits.

  Vince studied them for a moment, then inclined his head in a small, respectful bow.

  “Congratulations, Captain Skye,” he said, his tone solemn. “Because of your persistence, we have enough evidence to move forward.” He paused, then added, “Whisper Syndicate has seen your efforts. Krythos will not let a hero’s sacrifice be in vain.”

  “I’ll be personally documenting everything from this operation and submitting a full report.” His gaze swept over the team. “You have my gratitude.”

  The words were formal, almost procedural. But for the younger members of the team, who had spent days, weeks, months struggling, who had been beaten down by the system again and again— It meant something.

  A few had to blink rapidly to hold back emotion.

  Skye just let out a dry, exhausted laugh, revealing a set of teeth stained from too many cigars.

  "Secure the scene. You two—hands up, heads down! Move!"

  The two men who had been melting corpses instantly froze, then slowly crouched as instructed. Skye wasted no time binding Wolfe herself, pulling the restraints tight.

  Wolfe didn’t resist. He knew it was over. His dead eyes locked onto Vince.

  Whisper Syndicate.

  A bitter laugh bubbled up from Wolfe’s throat. Any last shred of hope he’d been clinging to was obliterated in an instant.

  "I never thought my little operation would catch the attention of you people," he muttered, his voice hollow.

  Whisper Syndicate—a name spoken only in hushed tones. Wolfe had heard of them, but never seen them in action. No one had.

  A shadow force, directly under military command. Small in number—rumored to be fewer than a thousand—but every single operative was a powerhouse. A prodigy. A ghost in the system.

  If the Bureau was the face of Krythos’s security, the Whisper Syndicate was its hidden blade. They saw everything, knew everything, and when necessary—handled things accordingly.

  And infected clean-up? That was just one of their many duties.

  "I’m leaving this to you," Vince said, his voice cool and detached. "A Syndicate investigator will arrive soon. They’ll get to the bottom of this."

  "Got it," Skye replied without hesitation.

  Axel, standing nearby, barely managed to suppress a reaction. The Whisper Syndicate? He forced himself to act casual, feigning curiosity as he followed a group of law enforcement officers into the foul, corpse-ridden hut.

  And that’s when he saw them. Nestled among the remains were two palm-sized green crystals—but what really caught his eye was the red crystal.

  His heart pounded. A second Awakening skill.

  A surge of satisfaction washed over him—but almost immediately, a wave of dizziness followed. His vision blurred, and a sharp pain shot through his body. His wounds, barely held together, had reopened. Blood seeped through his clothes.

  Axel barely managed to tuck the crystal close to his chest before his knees buckled.

  Darkness closed in. Before he hit the ground, a strong arm caught him. Vince.

  The older man steadied Axel effortlessly, his sharp gaze lingering on the young man’s pale face. Interesting…

  He had his suspicions about Axel’s Awakening ability, but now? Now he was nearly certain.

  Vince had remained low-key for two reasons. One, because it was simply in his nature. And two, because he wanted to observe Axel—see who he really was.

  But Axel had been unreadable. No fear, no hesitation. Just calm, from beginning to end. And that only made Vince more curious.

  "Get him to a hospital," Vince ordered, his tone firm. "He's in bad shape."

  Excitement drained from Skye and Freya’s faces, replaced by something heavier.

  An hour later, as dawn broke over Dune, the entrance of the Crown Hotel stood bathed in the soft glow of morning.

  Skye sat on the hotel’s stone steps, next to the massive lion statue at the entrance. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the smoke curling up into the crisp air.

  Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing off, but the crushing exhaustion he had felt before seemed a little lighter now.

  A familiar voice cut through his thoughts.