Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler

After finding a usable truck in the Institute's warehouse, Axel loaded Crowe's remains into the back. He didn't rush—just drove slowly, like he was out on an errand. Calm. Unbothered.

But then, something clicked in his mind.

Gabriel.

That fat guy was still with Declan. If Axel left without him, and someone found out, the poor bastard would probably get chewed up in the fallout.

The Whisper Syndicate's operation had clearly failed. The Rookie Selection event? Most likely canceled.

So Axel swung the truck around and headed for Baird District.

Gabriel was chilling on a couch, munching potato chips and watching anime like it was a Sunday morning. And if anything, he'd gained weight.

"We're heading out," Axel said.

Gabriel turned, pouting. "Already? Man, what a shame. The food here's incredible. Gimme a sec, I gotta pack. I bought souvenirs for my dad—and for you too!"

He waddled out a few minutes later with bags full of snacks, trinkets, and who-knows-what. Axel could only rub his temples.

Still, with Gabriel around, the tension in his chest finally loosened a bit.

Back at his place, Axel took one last look around. In the corner, he spotted the eyeball-shaped surveillance drone meant for tracking Blackstone.

Didn't even get to use the damn thing. The bar owner's investment had probably gone up in smoke.

I'll have to find a way to repay him someday, Axel thought. Not that anyone's gonna be pushing Exotic Beast Pills anytime soon.

After all… who'd ever guess the pills that had half of Sin City at each other's throats were being produced by the hunk of metal now riding in his truck?

With Gabriel sitting shotgun and humming along to some dumb tune, Axel hit the gas and rolled slowly out of the city—quietly, peacefully, like the storm had never happened.

Saka District, City Lord's Mansion.

Sweat clung to the towering man's skin as he slowly lifted his head. If someone saw him walking down the street, they'd probably mistake him for a monster.

His face was covered with dozens of eyes—some narrow and slitted, some wide and blazing, a few pulsing red like warning signals. His face didn't show one emotion—it showed dozens. Fear, rage, amusement, calculation… all at once.

Six people stood before him—five men and one woman. His deputies. And the man himself?

Morris, known across the city as The Cursed Eye.

"I'm fine," he said, waving them off with a casual flick. The majority of his eyes closed, leaving only four still open. He wiped the blood from the back of his hand—an old injury from a recent battle.

Not something from the Whisper Syndicate. No, this was from his clash with the Prairie Wolf King.

"They got away today," one of the men muttered angrily. "If Lord Morris hadn't been injured, there's no way they would've escaped."

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Caroline, long-legged, let out a sultry snort. "If Mr. Morris really wanted them dead, you think they'd still be breathing?"

The man shut up instantly. Even if he didn't like the jab, no one dared argue with Caroline, because of Morris.

"I had to show the Syndicate some respect," Morris said, his voice even. "Luckily, they know when to back off."

He stood, letting his coat fall loosely behind him as the four remaining eyes shifted and blinked slowly.

"The Wolf King wants access to the southern. I'm not sure what he's after. But the agreement I made with Krythos still stands. I didn't let him through."

He paused, gaze distant.

"That wolf's stronger than before."

Silence followed. None of his subordinates dared comment. Battles on that level were far above their pay grade.

"Why not just let him pass?" one of the younger men asked, hesitantly. "Krythos doesn't control us."

Morris didn't answer. He simply turned away, hands clasped behind his back, and waved for the others to leave. All but Caroline.

"That Crowe... he's one of yours, isn't he?"

His voice was calm, but Caroline stiffened like she'd been slapped. The smug expression she usually wore disappeared. She bowed slightly, taking half a step back.

"Mr. Morris... I admit, I was wrong."

"Oh?" Morris asked without looking at her. "What exactly did you do wrong?"

Caroline froze. She honestly wasn't sure. What mistake had she made?

"I... I was selfish," she tried. "Acted out of personal interest."

Morris let out a low laugh. "Selfishness? Who the hell isn't selfish in this city?"

He turned to face her, his expression unreadable with only four eyes still glowing. "Using what's around you to advance yourself? That's normal."

Caroline blinked, confused. "Then... I wasn't wrong?"

"No," Morris said, eyes narrowing all at once. "You were wrong for being sloppy."

He stepped closer, voice low but sharp. "If you'd controlled Crowe—set up a proper production, transport, and sales network under your own people—do you think the Whisper Syndicate would've sniffed it out so fast?"

Caroline couldn't respond. She wasn't some mastermind. At twenty-seven, she'd focused more on cultivation and force than that. What Morris just described? That wasn't her world.

"The Syndicate won't tolerate those pills being sold freely. Neither will Deep Sea Pharmaceuticals," Morris continued. "So for now, you're going to disappear Crowe. Let the heat die down. Then you can start digging into it yourself."

He rarely said this much to his subordinates. Caroline nodded, her mind racing with new clarity.

"Check on Crowe. That bastard's got more luck than he deserves," Morris muttered.

He turned, and the curved wall behind him lit up—projecting a full 3D map of Sin City.

The view zoomed in on the Crowe Association headquarters... and both Morris and Caroline frowned.

He was gone.

Morris watched the Whisper Syndicate's people disappear into the distance. He knew they were gone—and more importantly, he knew Crowe hadn't been dead when they left.

"So where the hell did they go?" Caroline asked, staring at the monitoring interface, her voice tight with confusion.

Morris didn't respond. Instead, the display rotated swiftly, scanning the city grid like a hungry eye searching for prey. Finally, it locked onto a single, speeding truck. With Morris's immense mental power, tracking Crowe's aura—even in his half-dead, robotic state—was child's play.

Caroline leaned in. Through the dusty window of the truck, she spotted Crowe's mangled remains—and the young man beside him.

"That's him?! That fucking rat!"

It was Axel. Just a second-tier awakened, a nobody. Normally, Caroline wouldn't have bothered remembering the kid. But she did. Because at one point, he'd stared at her like a starstruck idiot. That kind of gaze stuck with you.

"You think you can just snatch someone away from under my nose?" Morris let out a chilling laugh. A flash of crimson lit up in his eyes, and high above the city, the celestial eye—the Eye Above the Clouds—opened again.

This time, the descent wasn't as dramatic as it had been when he attacked Wesley and the others. There was no full projection of his body. Just a narrow beam of light shot out from the center of the eye, locking onto the truck below like a divine executioner's glare.

In Morris's mind, one glance was more than enough. That ray would incinerate both Axel and whoever was with him.

And it nearly did.

Axel felt it first—his heart skipped a beat, then his soul felt like it was being ripped out of his body. He didn't know where the pain came from. He just knew it was raw, primal, and unlike anything he'd ever felt.

"Axel? What the hell's going on?!" Gabriel dropped his bag of chips, alarmed by Axel's sudden grimace and gasping breaths.

The moment Morris's mental wave swept over the vehicle, a faint yellow glow flared from the bracelet on Gabriel's wrist. The energy shield silently expanded, enveloping him—and Axel—within it.

Then it struck back.

A jolt of resistance lashed out from Gabriel's bracelet, striking Morris's mental projection.

Crack!