Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler

The tavern owner slowly removed the rough stone from the table, his fingers lingering over it in quiet admiration. Because a lot of force has been absorbed, the color of the rough stone has become milky white. As the energy continued to deplete, the stone would eventually grow brittle and crack into pieces. If it were further absorbed, those pieces would turn to dust.

But this one—this one was different. It hadn't shattered yet. Instead, a small crack had appeared right down the center.

With a steady hand, the tavern owner carefully took some tweezers and pried open the crack. From inside, a small slip of paper emerged.

He unfurled it, squinting at the crude handwriting. A few seconds later, he tapped the table with his fingers again, this time with a grim expression.

What Axel wanted him to do wasn't difficult, but it was dangerous. It was a message hidden. Axel was in a bind. This wasn't something his strength alone could solve.

If Axel failed, the tavern owner's investment would go down the drain. And worse, he could end up with serious trouble of his own.

The tavern owner smiled, albeit with a slight edge. This was getting interesting. A business that is sure to make money is comfortable, but not that exciting. But business with Axel? This felt like a real gamble, and damn, it was exciting.

Axel's earlier shocking battle and his clever moves now had the tavern owner leaning back, pouring himself a glass of wine.

"I hope you don't disappoint me, kid," he muttered to himself.

.......

Gabriel, of course, wouldn't return empty-handed. He came back to the room stacked with bags, his face practically glowing with excitement.

Blackstone's two men reported everything back to him, and the man just scowled, muttering insults under his breath.

From his perspective, Axel hadn't noticed the surveillance, not even once. Gabriel's clueless antics only made him look like a fool, and there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary.

So Blackstone stayed focused on his main goal—Axel.

After two days of careful observation, Blackstone had mapped out Axel's routine and learned the exact placement of his daily essentials. The next step was clear: plant the evidence.

Caden had already laid the groundwork. Now all Blackstone had to do was wait for the right moment to strike.

Axel glanced at the heaps of food Gabriel had brought in, scratching his head.

"Brother, I got double portions! I'm treating you today!" Gabriel grinned, clearly proud of his haul. In Sin City, food was everywhere, and Gabriel couldn't stop stuffing his face with every new dish he could find.

"Sin City's great for food." Gabriel babbled on, chowing down on a roasted bird leg. Back in Krythos, mutant beasts like this were strictly off-limits, especially the ones that might show signs of higher intelligence. Once such things were publicized, it was likely to cause the madness of the mutant beast tribe, and then triggered a beast tide. But here? Anything goes. If it was tasty, they would serve it up.

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Axel didn't respond. He grabbed the bag of black dates Gabriel handed over, ignoring his chatter. These dates were exactly what Axel had been waiting for. He took them back to his room, his mind already focused on the task at hand.

Axel sat against the far corner of the room, the light from the window casting shadows on the floor. He split open one of the black dates, his fingers carefully feeling for anything unusual.

Each date felt the same—until one of them. There was something hard inside, like a small, round ball—something like an eyeball, but smaller.

The tavern owner was a businessman, pure and simple. But when things got tough, he didn't hesitate to cut his losses. Axel had never expected much help from him, but here they were.

"I guess I'll owe this guy one," Axel muttered, feeling a flicker of gratitude.

With a quick motion, he activated the small orb. A soft glow emanated from it, then quickly faded. There was nothing extraordinary about it at first glance. But Axel knew better. The more inconspicuous something seemed, the better.

This was exactly what he needed—a small video recording device. Hotels like these always had them hidden in the most unlikely places.

Once the device was set up, Axel felt a little more at ease. If the other party tried anything suspicious again, he would have hard evidence.

As Axel prepared himself, a different kind of hunt was quietly underway in the Hollow District of Sin City.

In a crumbling factory building on the outskirts of Hollow District, Elijah and his remaining crew were huddled together, covered in blood and grime. The air was thick with dust, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the background.

"What happened?" Elijah's voice was cold and sharp as he surveyed the grim scene.

"Wilder and Stormrider are dead," one of his men reported. "Thorn should have escaped, but we're not sure where he is."

Elijah's eyes swept across the remaining four people, his face twisted in frustration. Their plan had been simple: lay low, build their strength, and establish dominance in Hollow District. But tonight, that all came crashing down. Several rival gangs had ambushed them, catching them completely off guard. Wilder and Stormrider were dead, and the rest of them had barely managed to escape with their lives.

"Find a way to contact Thorn." Elijah's voice was calm but firm. He was already thinking ahead, trying to regain control.

Esme, huddled close to him, winced as she touched the bruise on her neck. Her face was pale, and her voice shook as she whispered, "Do you think... we should quit? I mean, we lost two people..."

A few days ago, she'd been all confidence and energy. Now, fear and doubt were creeping in. Seeing two of their own dead in front of her had shaken her to the core.

Elijah shot her a cold smile and shook his head. "You think we've lost? You're looking at this all wrong."

The others exchanged confused glances. Elijah leaned forward, his eyes hard with resolve. "Yeah, we lost two. But so did they. Four level-three fighters are dead on their side. And that doesn't even count the others they lost. Their casualties are much worse than ours."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in. "We were caught off guard this time, but next time? If we had the right manpower, we wouldn't be afraid of any of them."

A few of the others began to nod. Elijah's confidence was infectious. They were the top candidates in the Whisper Syndicate, all level-three awakened, but far more capable in combat than the average fighter at their level.

"How dare they do this..." Esme muttered, anger flickering in her eyes. "Aren't they scared of Morris?"

Elijah's lips curled into a cold smile. "They know exactly when to strike. That's not important right now. What's important is that we can't just give up. We have to fight back."

He stood up, pacing slowly. "This attack gave us valuable information. The street gangs in Hollow District are about our level. We're not facing anything we can't handle. And if we gather the rest of the hidden forces in the Whisper Syndicate, we'll have a real fighting chance."

The group's eyes began to light up. They weren't outmatched. Most of the Syndicate candidates were second-level awakeners, and while they may have been weaker individually, together they'd form a strong force.