Chapter 206: Chapter 206: White and Gold
Chapter 206: White and Gold
The air in Sector Four tasted heavily of sulfur and rust.
Envoy Thalis Corwyn pulled the heavy white hood of his silken robes over his head. He kept his chin tucked low.
He navigated the narrow, completely flooded alleyways of the lower industrial sector with careful, measured steps.
His pristine white and gold robes were being ruined. The heavy hem dragged through puddles of toxic, chemical runoff and thick mud.
He did not care.
The physical dirt was nothing compared to the crushing weight resting on his conscience.
’I am a monster,’ Corwyn thought bitterly, stepping over a rusted iron pipe.
’I stood in front of grieving mothers and I smiled. I smiled at empty graves. Oh, how exhiliritating!’
The guilt was a physical ache in his chest. He had seen the absolute devastation on the faces of the Academy students. He had heard the agonizing crack in Instructor Stonehelm’s voice.
Strike Team Zero was dead, and it was an undeniable tragedy. Ten brilliant, brave teenagers had been swallowed by the dark.
But Corwyn was not a frontline soldier. He was a diplomat. He did not look at individual lives; he looked at the global arithmetic of survival.
And the terrible truth was that the deaths of Strike Team Zero had just saved humanity from a catastrophic civil war.
Back in the Capital, the political Hawks were terrified. The Vanguard Generals and the war-hungry Elders had read the scouting reports from Bastion Seven.
A single squad of first-year students had shattered all known progression metrics. They were growing too fast. The Capital viewed Draven and his team as an anomalous, apocalyptic threat.
The Hawks had been secretly mobilizing a massive, preemptive strike fleet.
They intended to use Strike Team Zero’s sudden rise to power as a political excuse to invade Bastion Seven and forcefully seize control of Lord Commander Helion’s territory.
’But the anomaly is gone,’ Corwyn reasoned, turning down a pitch-black corridor of shipping containers.
’The pretext for the invasion died in the Dead Zone. Bastion Seven is no longer a threat. The Hawks have no excuse to launch the fleet. The peace will hold. How smart of me!’
He had to get that message to his allies.
He was a member of the Believers.
They were a quiet, uncorrupted faction within the Capital who genuinely believed that humanity could only survive if the Bastions remained united.
He could not use the official Vanguard communication relays in the Noble District.
The channels were monitored. If the Hawks intercepted his message, they would simply invent a new lie to start the war.
Corwyn stopped walking.
He had reached his destination. It was an abandoned, hollowed-out chemical refinery. The massive steel vats were rusted and leaking foul-smelling water.
A single, flickering neon sign cast a harsh red glow over the entrance.
A man stepped out from behind a rusted pillar.
He was thin, twitchy, and wore a heavy leather trench coat. He was an information broker for the local criminal underworld.
"You are late, Envoy," the broker rasped, his eyes darting nervously toward the entrance of the alley.
"And you stick out like a sore thumb. White silk in Sector Four? You are asking to be gutted."
"I am paying for discretion, Sogaar," Corwyn replied smoothly. His diplomatic training took over, hiding his fear behind a mask of absolute authority.
"Do you have the item?"
Sogaar reached into his heavy leather coat. He pulled out a small, flawlessly smooth black crystal. It pulsed with a faint, untraceable magical frequency.
"An encrypted, black-market Vanguard comm-crystal," Sogaar confirmed, holding it up in the red neon light.
"It routes through three dummy satellites in the dead territories. The Capital monitors will never flag it. Have you got the payment?"
Corwyn reached into his robes. He pulled out a heavy velvet pouch and tossed it directly to the broker.
CLINK.
Sogaar caught the heavy pouch. He opened the drawstrings. The soft, undeniable gleam of pure gold coins reflected in his greedy eyes. It was a small fortune, paid entirely out of Corwyn’s personal wealth.
"Pleasure doing business," Sogaar grinned, tying the pouch to his belt.
Corwyn took the comm-crystal. He gripped it tightly in his palm.
’It is over,’ Corwyn exhaled a quiet breath of relief.
’I will send the transmission. The Believers will lock down the Senate. The strike fleet will be grounded.’
Sogaar suddenly froze.
The greedy grin completely vanished from the broker’s face. He stared past Corwyn’s shoulder, looking directly into the mouth of the dark alleyway. The man’s pupils dilated in absolute, primal terror.
"Sogaar?" Corwyn asked, taking a step back.
"What is it?"
Sogaar did not answer. The broker turned around and sprinted into the depths of the ruined refinery, abandoning the meeting entirely.
Corwyn spun around to face the alley.
The harsh red neon sign above the refinery suddenly flickered.
POP.
The glass tube shattered. The light died completely.
The ambient temperature in the alleyway violently plummeted. Corwyn’s breath plumed into a thick, white mist.
A jagged layer of frost rapidly spread across the rusted steel pipes lining the walls.
Corwyn’s heart slammed against his ribs. The sheer density of the mana flooding the alley was suffocating. It was heavier than any Vanguard General he had ever met. It felt ancient.
He was being hunted.
Corwyn immediately reached for the heavy golden medallion resting against his chest. It was a supreme defensive artifact granted only to high-ranking Capital diplomats.
[Aegis Protocol]
A massive, glowing dome of impenetrable golden light erupted around Corwyn. The heavy magical barrier hummed with raw power. It was designed to withstand a direct, physical blow from a King Level Beast.
Corwyn backed up against a metal wall inside his glowing dome. He breathed heavily, waiting for the attackers to strike the outside of the shield.
"You rely too much on physical barriers," a soft, deadpan female voice whispered.
The voice did not come from the alley.
It came from directly behind his right ear.
Corwyn froze in absolute horror.
He slowly looked down. The pitch-black shadow cast by his own boots inside the golden dome was moving.
Nyx Vespera rose smoothly from the two-dimensional plane of the floor.
She had bypassed the Level 200 artifact shield entirely, slipping through the physical barrier by traveling through the conceptual space of the shadows.
She stood inside the dome with him. Her pitch-black eyes locked onto his terrified face.
SHINK.
A freezing, void-steel dagger rested gently against Corwyn’s carotid artery.
"Do not move a single muscle," Nyx ordered quietly.
Outside the golden dome, a tall, elegant figure stepped out of the freezing mist.
Lucien walked casually toward the glowing barrier. The Storm Sovereign raised his right hand. He did not draw his silver rapier. He simply tapped the outside of the artifact shield with his index finger.
ZAP!
A blinding, catastrophic surge of blue lightning erupted from Lucien’s fingertip. The raw voltage completely overloaded the magical circuits of the Aegis Medallion in a fraction of a second.
CRACK.
The impenetrable golden dome shattered like fragile glass. The violent electrical feedback shot directly into Corwyn’s chest.
His nervous system instantly locked up. Corwyn collapsed to his knees on the freezing, muddy ground. He could not speak. He could not lift his arms. He was completely paralyzed.
Nyx stepped back, twirling her dagger effortlessly into a reverse grip.
Heavy, methodical footsteps echoed through the dark alley.
Draven stepped into the dim light. He wore his heavy black coat. His face was entirely obscured by his pristine white mask.
A massive, heavily armored warrior radiating extreme heat stepped up to his left. A girl wielding floating, glowing cosmic starlight stepped up to his right.
Corwyn knelt in the mud, staring up at them. His paralyzed mind raced in absolute, chaotic panic.
He recognized the dark armor. He recognized the starlight. He recognized the white mask.
It was Strike Team Zero.
They were not dead. They were not ashes in the Dead Zone. They were standing in front of him, and the terrifying, oppressive auras radiating from their bodies were vastly stronger than the scouting reports had claimed.
They were Level 100.
Corwyn felt a cold, miserable tear roll down his cheek.
He was not crying because he was about to die. He was crying because his entire political reality had just been shattered. The anomaly was alive. The Vanguard Hawks were entirely right.
Bastion Seven possessed a hidden, unstoppable army. The continental war was completely inevitable now.
Draven stepped forward. He looked down at the paralyzed diplomat kneeling in the mud. He noted the heavy pouch of gold and the black-market comm-crystal lying in the dirt.
"You walked down the wrong street, Envoy," Draven said. His voice was a cold, empty void behind the porcelain mask.
"Take him to the quiet room," Draven ordered. "We have a lot to discuss."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter