Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

“I… sorry. Mistaken identity,” Seth muttered, already backing away in a panic.

He turned and walked fast, fumbling for his phone. No signal. No connection. He tried again—nothing.

Seth’s face drained of color. He was screwed.

As Seth disappeared into the crowd, the fat man slowly stood up, glancing around. Then he walked into the nearest bathroom.

Minutes later, he emerged with a different face. The round cheeks were gone. The soft body had shifted.

Zane.

He watched the crowd quietly, then looked into the distance, where the last of the sun lit the train platform.

A soft sigh escaped his lips.

“Axel… I hope you made it.”

.....

“Axel!” Phoenix tore through the rubble like a man possessed, shoving aside shattered steel and chunks of debris until, finally, he yanked Axel out of the filthy water.

“Axel! Bro, wake up!” Phoenix’s voice cracked with panic.

Axel looked like hell. His arms were blackened and burned, his body riddled with deep wounds. His breathing was shallow—barely there.

But Phoenix could feel something strange: Axel’s body was drawing in Force—quickly and violently—and releasing awakening skills on its own.

With every surge of Force, a sliver of his injuries would begin to heal.

“…Healing?” Phoenix blinked in disbelief. He’d never seen man like Axel this—completely unconscious, yet still casting skills, still regenerating. And the way his body was absorbing Force… it was like his veins had become bottomless pits, devouring every drop they could find.

“Shit, hold on… I’ve got you.” Phoenix gritted his teeth and dug into his pocket.

He pulled out a pill.

A Life Pill—the Whisper Syndicate’s last-resort lifesaver. Worth five million dollars a pop.

Phoenix looked no better himself. His body was torn up, skin scorched and flesh raw from fire, but he didn’t hesitate. He jammed the pill into Axel’s mouth and forced him to swallow.

And like hell waking up from a coma, Axel’s body twitched. The charred skin on his arms began to peel away, replaced by new, unblemished tissue.

“Thanks… Phoenix…” came a weak voice.

Phoenix’s heart leapt. “You’re awake?! Holy shit—Axel!” He grabbed him and held him tight, his eyes welling with relief and guilt. “I fucked up. I didn’t get what you meant by sending me your location at first… I was too fucking slow.”

Axel looked at his friend’s burnt, bloody face and the tears in his eyes. Guilt pricked at his chest—but he was too far gone to say anything more.

His body was wrecked. He’d underestimated what it meant to fight a Level 4 head-on.

If Phoenix hadn’t shown up when he did—if that pill hadn’t kicked in—he would’ve either died or spent the rest of his life without arms.

Drowsiness began to cloud his thoughts again. The Life Pill had pushed his body into overdrive, but it wouldn’t last. He could feel the high crashing already.

“Phoenix…” Axel raised a trembling arm, pointing to a shadowy corner of the tunnel. “Take me… there.”

Phoenix hesitated for a second, about to ask something—but then he saw the fading light in Axel’s eyes.

He shut up and moved.

At the spot Axel had pointed to, Maxen’s body lay in pieces. Above it, a dull green light hovered—a life crystal, still intact.

Axel reached out, slid the crystal into his pocket… and let go.

He collapsed completely.

Phoenix, unaware of what Axel had done, simply scooped him up, slung him over his back, and vaulted out of the sewer.

At the Ebonveil Hotel, a phone rang in the dark. Rosaline snapped awake. She and Vince had been waiting for that call.

“Rosaline, Captain…” came Phoenix’s voice. It was deep, shaking—and unmistakably crying. “I failed. I didn’t protect Axel.”

Rosaline froze.

“I was too fucking late. Maxen… that bastard pretended to make peace. He jumped Axel. It was a fucking ambush.”

Vince and Rosaline exchanged a grim look.

It didn’t matter whether Phoenix had been tricked. If Axel was dead, the why wouldn’t change a damn thing.

Rosaline’s voice sharpened. “Is Axel alive? Where’s Maxen?”

Phoenix was sprinting, Axel limp in his arms. He cradled him tightly with one arm, his other clutching the phone.

“I don’t know. He came to for a second, then passed out again.” His voice cracked. “But Maxen… Maxen’s fucking dead. I tore that piece of shit apart.”

Rosaline exhaled hard. “Good. As long as Axel’s alive, we can fix the rest. Keep him safe—we’re on our way.”

She hung up and locked eyes with Vince.

“Maxen got outplayed,” she said, her voice dry. “Axel really pulled it off.”

“This bastard’s gonna get himself killed one of these days,” she added angrily. Then she reached for her phone. It was time to alert and Kaia.

They had to get to Dune—now.

“Maxen’s dead, which means shit’s about to blow up. We need to hear from Axel—how the hell did he pull this off?”

Two hours later, the Obsidian team was gathered in the intensive care unit of Dune First Hospital.

Phoenix sat silently in the corner, his torso loosely wrapped in bandages. Most of his external wounds had closed, but his expression was still grim, haunted. The others stood around the window, staring silently into the treatment room where Axel lay motionless.

At last, the door opened. A man with gray hair and a deeply lined face stepped out and beckoned Vince and Rosaline over. His tone was brisk—he understood these people weren’t ordinary.

“His condition is... difficult,” the doctor said bluntly. “We’ve treated the surface wounds, but the real damage is internal. His original veins and vital organs were scorched—burned from the inside out. A direct hit from a high-tier Awakening skill.”

He let out a breath. “A normal second-level Awakener wouldn’t have survived this long.”

Vince’s face tightened. “What are our options?”

“At this point? None, unless you bring in a high-level healing Awakener. Our current medical tech is useless against this level of internal trauma.”

There was a heavy pause.

In the entire Whisper Syndicate, high-level healing Awakeners were rare. Vince did know a few—but they were out on missions, scattered far from Dune. It would take them a full day to return.

“How long can he hold out?” Rosaline asked.

The doctor’s eyes flicked to the room’s observation window. “That depends… on him.”

He hesitated, then added, “He’s an Awakener with Healing skills, right? That’s the only reason he’s still breathing. He’s kept himself alive by instinctively casting the Healing skill—again and again.”

Everyone stiffened.

“He’s unconscious,” Vince said slowly. “How the hell is he casting anything?”

“That’s what shocked me too,” the doctor admitted. “His brain is executing commands issued before the coma—repeating them over and over like a stuck program. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Rosaline’s voice turned cold. “He’s only second-level. How many times can he cast Healing before he burns out?”

“I’ve monitored him since he was admitted. In just the past two hours, he’s triggered the Healing skill eleven times.”

“Eleven?!” jumped to his feet.

That was insane. Even a top-tier second-level Awakener could only manage three, maybe four full castings before their Force reserves collapsed. Axel had already used several castings before he’d even arrived at the hospital. By all logic, he should’ve been dry a long time ago.

But the doctor wasn’t finished.

“What’s even stranger is this—our tests show he’s been absorbing Force at an accelerated rate, enough to keep himself balanced. He’s not in deficit. Somehow, his body keeps pulling Force from the environment.”

The room went silent.

“That’s not supposed to be possible,” Rosaline muttered.

Vince said quietly. “None of that matters if we don’t know how long he can keep it up.”

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