Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler

Inside the truck, the Selected were scattered throughout the vehicle, most of them sitting in silence, their faces grim. The experience in Sin City had been far worse than they ever imagined.

No matter how careful they'd been, most of them had still been targeted by gang factions who hunted outsiders like prey. Eventually, one by one, they had no choice but to withdraw.

Those who had fought back didn't fare much better. The odds were simply too stacked.

Elijah sat hunched, propping his head up with one hand. His eyes were vacant, his face blank.

Next to him, Esme scowled. "We didn't even make it to Day 20, and they already called for an evacuation. That means no one completed the full mission. So the evaluation's gonna be based on overall performance."

She said it loud enough for others to hear, but no one responded.

That silence only made her angrier. And worse? The whispers she'd been hearing. People were saying Axel had pulled off something major, something game-changing.

That name—Axel—felt like a splinter in her mind. She gritted her teeth and pulled out her phone.

Her fingers flew across the screen. She sent a message.

The Whisper Syndicate team had returned to Ebonveil, to the hotel they had originally departed from.

What was once a bustling team now felt quiet and sparse.

Axel didn't know how long he'd been asleep. The first thing he noticed was sunlight streaming in through the window, bright enough to make him squint. As his eyes slowly adjusted, the blurred shape of a familiar figure came into focus—a chubby guy, hunched over a tray, fiddling with breakfast.

Apparently, the fat guy had eaten his fill at the cafeteria earlier and brought back a second serving for Axel. But judging by his expression, that still wasn't enough.

Just as Axel blinked and tried to sit up, the fat guy, thinking he wasn't being watched, sneaked a slice of beef into his mouth.

Then their eyes met.

The fat guy froze mid-chew, his face flushing red. He quickly swallowed and coughed awkwardly.

"Uh... Axel, hey, you're awake!" he stammered, fumbling for an excuse. "I—I was just, y'know, checking to make sure it wasn't poisoned!"

Axel just stared at him. "…"

Too tired to deal with the nonsense, he let it slide. His voice was still hoarse. "Where are we?"

"Ebonveil," the fat guy replied proudly. "You don't know? Man, we pulled off something big—well, you did. I'm just riding the wave. We're both probably getting selected as official members now, hehe."

He beamed, clearly pleased. After Axel had passed out, the fat guy finally realized that the chunk of mangled metal Axel had dragged back was actually a person. Not just anyone, but the primary target of the whole damn mission—Crowe.

"Most of the official team members already reported back to HQ," he went on. "Captain Wesley stuck around to announce the final selection list."

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So, they'd made it back. The knot in Axel's chest finally unraveled.

About half an hour later, the two of them received the notification and made their way to the conference hall.

The atmosphere inside was heavy. Most of the other candidates looked defeated, some still bandaged up and nursing wounds from Sin City.

When Axel walked in, heads turned. The room filled with murmurs and side glances. Some were curious. Others… not so friendly.

He'd been a standout since the beginning—turning down Elijah's invitation to team up, going head-to-head with Harrison, and now this. The story of Axel's unexpected success had spread like wildfire.

And clearly, it stung.

Elijah's crew—what was left of them—had disbanded early. In hindsight, Axel's lone wolf approach had been the right call.

Axel ignored the whispers and made his way to the front row with the fat guy. Just as he sat down, he felt a sharp glare boring into the side of his head.

He turned—and locked eyes with Esme.

She was staring at him like she wanted to burn a hole through his skull.

Axel frowned. What the hell is her problem now?

"This woman's got a screw loose," he muttered.

"Shhh," the fat guy nudged him. The conference room door opened with a low creak.

Wesley stepped in.

"All right, quiet down," he said, voice steady. "I'm going to announce the final list of selected candidates."

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to the center round table. Those who had held out till the very end were holding their breath.

Just as Wesley opened his mouth to speak, someone knocked on the door.

"…Come in."

A man in his thirties strolled in, all tattoos and buzz cut, wearing a smirk.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," the man said casually. "Just came to take a look."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "And you are?"

"Oh, me?" The guy pointed at the ID tag hanging from his neck. "I'm from the Havoc Division. You can call me Maxen."

Without waiting for an invitation, he sauntered over to the seating area and dropped into a chair right next to Esme.

Havoc Division? Axel blinked. He'd never heard of it before—but judging by the murmurs rippling through the room, everyone else had.

"So that guy's from Havoc?"

"They only recruit rogue awakeners over Level 3. Real combat junkies."

As the whispers grew louder, Axel caught on quickly. The Havoc Division wasn't just any organization—it was a powerhouse that operated across all of Krythos. Independent, not bound by official jurisdiction, and notorious for taking on dangerous, high-stakes jobs for awakened clients. In other words: elite mercenaries for hire.

At the front of the room, Wesley cleared his throat.

"Alright. Here's the final list of selected candidates," he announced. "Only five were chosen from this round."

A pause.

"Ezra, Jace, Dante, Gabriel… and Axel."

The names hung in the air. A beat later, the whispers started up again—this time louder, more incredulous.

"None of them are even Level 3..."

"Seriously? Over half the candidates here are stronger!"

Wesley didn't bat an eye. "Quiet," he said firmly. "We are now in the public review period. You may raise any objections before the list is finalized. If there are no objections, the meeting will adjourn."

"I have an objection." The sharp voice cut through the room like a blade. The crowd fell silent.

All eyes turned to Esme, who stood with arms crossed, her gaze burning with angry and accusation.

Wesley narrowed his eyes at her, then glanced sideways at Maxen—who remained seated with a lazy smirk, clearly here for more than just spectating.

So that's why he showed up. Wesley didn't flinch. Havoc Division or not, no one pulled rank in his Syndicate.

"Speak," he said, voice level.

Esme's voice trembled, not from fear—but fury.

"I'm reporting Axel. The reason my team and I were eliminated… is because he exposed our Whisper Syndicate identities while we were in Sin City!"

The room exploded into chaos. Gasps, shouts, stunned faces.

Even Wesley's expression shifted—just slightly. That kind of accusation wasn't just serious—it was damn near career-ending. If true, Axel wouldn't just be disqualified. He'd be lucky not to be killed.

Axel stared at Esme, stunned. What the hell is she talking about?

She's the one who almost blew their cover! Now she's trying to pin it on me?

Wesley's voice dropped an octave, sharp with tension. "Are you sure you want to stand by that statement?"

"I'm sure," Esme said confidently, her eyes locked on Axel with vengeful satisfaction.

Maxen finally stood, drawing everyone's attention. "No need to argue," he said, pulling out a small black case. "We'll verify it right here."

He opened it and took out a single pill.

"Truth Pill," he said simply.

Axel's face darkened. They came prepared.