— Kyle Valter’s POV —
Damn!
A single word kept echoing inside my skull like a heavy tal ball bouncing between the walls of my mind ever since we left that purple void called "Sanctuary of the Void."
I was sitting in the dark corner of Alpha Squad’s office, staring at my computer screen that displayed data I wasn’t reading a single letter of.
My mind was still paralyzed, replaying the tape of what Damian told that ill-fated night, and how I connected its threads with Valisera’s shocking confession.
Damian had told before about that terrifying security eting. He told , his eyes overflowing with genuine fear, how Kaiser Dravion, the Supre Ruler of Elysium, entered, how he crushed those present with his aura, and how Valisera—the teenage girl leading our squad—spoke to him as an equal, with unimaginable audacity, calling him by his bare na, "Kaiser."
And he told how the Supre, instead of erasing her from existence, sighed and told her: "You’re right."
At the ti, I thought—Damian thought, and all intelligence leaders thought—that Valisera was untouchable.
We thought she possessed supre immunity, or that she was directly backed by the throne of Elysium.
But... after her hysterical confession in the preparation hall—that she had only seen him once in her life, and that she held no authority over him... all those theories collapsed, revealing a far more horrifying truth.
Damn it! Damn that crazy woman!
She had been playing poker with the rulers of the world using completely empty cards!
She walked into a lion’s den, placed her head inside its mouth, and started dictating terms to it—without even holding a stick to strike it!
And even more absurd... the lion, for so unknown reason—perhaps from sheer shock at her audacity—played along!
"What a deranged devil..." I muttered under my breath, rubbing my face with my hand.
In a world where a single mistake in wording before high-ranking individuals could cost you your life, Valisera was dancing on the ropes of the gallows blindfolded.
And despite my absolute terror of her recklessness, I couldn’t deny a sick, dark admiration beginning to grow inside toward her.
She is the embodint of chaos... and chaos is the only ladder soone like can climb.
But beyond Valisera’s madness... there was sothing else distracting .
Sothing pulsing in my blood, in my nerves... and in my "shadow."
I raised my right hand and stared into my palm.
Behind my black glove, beneath layers of skin, I could feel a strange coldness. A tallic, sharp cold that did not belong to this world.
That coldness was emanating from the "Forgotten Blade."
The legendary sword forged from pure nothingness, now resting within a small spaceti rift bound to my soul, ready to manifest the mont I summon it with my will.
And ever since I acquired the new skill [Shadow Rend – Rank S-], there had been an itch... a pathological, insistent, irritating itch crawling through my fingertips.
I craved—no, I was starving—to use the Forgotten Blade for the first ti.
I had used the skill before to kill Arthur, sever Vargas’s tendon, and injure Eva, but all of that was done using a standard Eitra pistol and a tactical knife.
Pathetic weapons compared to an S-rank skill.
What would happen if I used the "Forgotten Blade" itself? The sword forged in the graveyard of Supres to tear reality apart?
I imagined myself standing in a room filled with enemies, not needing to move at all.
Just planting that black blade into their shadows... and watching them split in half while screaming in terror, searching for their unseen killer.
The thought alone sent a shiver of sadistic ecstasy down my spine.
But... reality bound with chains of cold logic.
Valisera said: "Search for evidence."
I lightly struck the wooden desk with my fist.
"Do we really have to gather evidence?" I muttered irritably to myself.
We’re not police officers looking for fingerprints!
We’re an assassination and intelligence unit! Why are we playing the role of honorable investigators?
We should storm the place and capture the ones in charge! Departnt directors, chief physicians—even that cursed saint, Ilarius!
We should seize them and drive my skill into their skulls to extract their mories and blood together!
They must know sothing about the mastermind! They must know who the Six Voiders are!
But despite my anger, I knew Valisera was right.
We’re talking about Saint Ilarius Hospital. One of the pillars of Elysium City.
A massive dical institution that civilians regard as a temple of rcy, guarded by hundreds of high-ranking rcenaries, and run by a monster who breached Rank S .
If we attack without a plan, without undeniable evidence forcing Kaiser Dravion to intervene and protect us, we’ll be annihilated, branded as terrorists, and the case will be buried forever.
So... reconnaissance was necessary.
We had to enter the beast’s mouth—not as hunters, but as prey.
[Two hours later – Central Sector – Saint Ilarius Hospital Plaza]
The rain had stopped, leaving behind a heavy gray sky and air saturated with humidity.
I stood on the opposite sidewalk, raising the collar of my old, worn-out coat to shield my neck from the cold breeze.
I wasn’t wearing the elegant FBI suit, nor carrying any visible weapon.
I wore my old clothes—the ones I used back when I was just a miserable thief in the outskirts.
A faded cotton shirt, jeans torn at the knees, and worn-out sneakers.
I didn’t need much makeup or effort to look like a dying patient.
My face was naturally pale like a dead candle, and the deep dark circles under my dull crimson eyes told the story of a thousand sleepless nights.
I looked exactly like a young man from the lower sectors—his energy drained by corrupted Eitra—coming to beg for charity treatnt.
I took a deep breath and lifted my gaze toward the building.
"Saint Ilarius Hospital."
The na alone made my stomach churn now.
The building wasn’t just a hospital—it was closer to a massive cathedral designed to glorify the rulers of dicine.
Its facade was built entirely of pristine white marble that glead with unnatural cleanliness, as if rejecting any dust from Elysium’s pollution.
Its massive glass windows reflected the pale sunlight, and before the main entrance stood a grand fountain of pure water, centered with statues of angels with outstretched wings, pouring healing waters from golden urns.
Everything scread purity, rcy, and salvation.
But... to , with every step I took toward the wide main gate, goosebumps crawled across my skin like thousands of cold insects.
The automatic glass doors slid open silently.
I entered.
The mont I crossed the threshold, the central air conditioning struck .
Cold, refreshing air, lightly scented with lavender and high-grade chemical disinfectants.
The reception hall was a hive of human activity.
Hundreds of people moving in every direction.
Families anxiously waiting on luxurious leather seats, children running around, nurses in pristine white uniforms smiling with angelic gentleness while guiding patients, and doctors walking confidently, carrying electronic tablets and speaking in calm, reassuring tones.
The place was... too normal.
Terrifyingly normal.
I stood in the middle of the hall as people passed around .
I narrowed my eyes and activated my Eitra senses.
I expected to feel the aura of death, to sll the rotten blood I had seen, to catch a glimpse of darkness behind these white walls.
But... there was nothing.
Nothing at all.
No magical leakage. No suspicious auras.
Even the security guards standing at the corners wore elegant uniforms and smiled at visitors, their Eitra calm and stable—no higher than Rank C or B for senior officers.
"This is impossible..." I thought to myself, my heartbeat accelerating.
How could a place be this perfect?
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