Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

“It’s fine,” Quade said, brushing it off. “Just tell me who their top guy is when we get there. I’ll take care of him.”

Juno’s eyes sparkled again. Quade’s confidence was magnetic. She’d heard about him before—said to have already mastered two basic combat styles and awakened a skill, despite his young age.

“We challenge them to a duel, simple as that,” Quade continued. “Crush their strongest, and the rest will fall in line.”

Colt and Juno nodded enthusiastically, caught up in his energy.

Quade glanced at Zara and Axel. “Any objections?”

Zara offered a small smile. “I don’t mind the approach, but maybe… tone down the aggression? Be a bit friendlier?”

Quade chuckled. “Don’t worry. Once we beat them, they’ll be very friendly.”

He didn’t glance at Axel as he prepared to wrap things up. But before he could move on, Axel finally spoke. “Are we planning to do any recon or tactical prep before the challenge?”

Quade blinked, thrown off for half a second.

Axel didn’t mean to sound timid. If they were going to Stormwatch Academy, no problem, and he had seen someone—those students were predictable. But Shiverstone? That place was something else.

The school motto said it all: ‘Shiverstone will not fall. The North will not break.’ And based on the intel Vince had passed along, this academy wasn’t like the others...

But to the others in the car, his question just sounded like nerves.

“If you’re scared,” Quade said with a half-smile, “you don’t need to step up. We’ve got it covered.”

Colt jumped in to defuse the tension. “Let’s go with Quade’s plan for now.”

Axel didn’t push it. Three out of five already had a plan.

.......

Shiverstone sat at the northernmost edge of Krythos—cold, remote, and a hell of a long way from anywhere. The journey was slow and quiet. No one spoke much; each person slipped into their own zone, focusing cultivation.

Axel was no exception. He still had a long way to go.

During the ride, he kept absorbing the life crystals he’d recently obtained, working to push open his original veins further. He could feel the widening—gradual, steady—but he was still a long shot away from hitting the flood-level threshold.

The others noticed he was cultivating, but they weren’t Vince. They couldn’t possibly gauge the speed at which Axel was actually progressing.

Zara, however, couldn’t help but watch him out of the corner of her eye. Axel was talented, clearly—but more than that, he was driven. And in her eyes, that combination was worth more than raw power alone.

The trip dragged on longer than Axel expected. They watched the roadside landscape shift from deep green to brittle yellow. The air grew sharper, colder.

Back when Mutation Day first hit, most railway infrastructure had been torn to pieces. The northern regions—being both a military zone and industrial center—had been hit hardest.

Shiverstone lay on the border, isolated. The trains only ran as far as the nearest city. From there, the rest of the route had to be traveled by a military-grade land vehicle.

The next morning, Axel woke to a gasp beside him.

“Brother, look! It’s snowing!”

Annabelle’s face was pressed to the frosted window, her eyes sparkling with wonder. She blew a circle into the glass, then wiped it with her tiny hand, staring out at the snowy wilderness with pure delight.

“It’s so beautiful…”

Snow wasn’t unheard of in Dune, but it never stayed long. This was the first time she’d seen a true winter landscape—blanketed in white, silent, endless.

Axel smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

It was his first real snowfall too. When they were younger, his father had once promised to take them skiing up north. That promise, like so many others, had never been fulfilled.

“We’re almost there,” the driver said from the front. As the vehicle crested a ridge, the city finally came into view—and it wasn’t what any of them expected.

“Is that… the industrial powerhouse?”

In the distance, massive buildings loomed like steel fortresses, snow swirling over their blackened roofs. Thick chimneys belched steam into the frozen air, and the growl of heavy machinery echoed faintly across the plains.

It was like something out of a mech war novel—an entire city built from iron and fire. Nothing like the sleek architecture of Dune.

“Even though this place is poor and far from the center,” the driver explained, “a huge portion of Krythos’ raw goods still come from here. Oil, timber, steel... this city’s the backbone.”

Annabelle tilted her head, frowning. “Uncle, why’s it so poor then?”

The driver chuckled. “Because these things aren’t about profit, sweetheart. They’re about survival. Industry keeps the country standing.”

As they drove deeper into the city, signs of daily life appeared. Workers trudged along the streets, bundled in heavy coats. Trucks rolled out from factory lots, laden with crates and steel beams.

“Over half of the materials used to build Krythos come from the North,” the driver added. He reached for a cigarette, then paused, remembering the child in the car. He tucked it behind his ear instead.

Annabelle stared out the window at the workers. Their faces were wrapped in scarves, eyes narrowed against the wind, breath turning to steam that froze in their lashes.

These people worked hard—way harder than anyone back in Dune.

As the vehicle rolled further into the heart of the city, the factories thinned out, giving way to markets and vendor stalls.

“Look, brother! They’re selling ice cream!” Annabelle said, eyes wide. “Aren’t they cold?”

“And that! What is that? It looks like a mushroom… but it’s huge.”

“Wait, they’re selling beast meat?!”

If it had just been the two of them, Annabelle would’ve begged Axel to let her out and explore. But for now, she could only watch in awe.

The driver smiled again. “You’re lucky. Today’s market day. If you get the chance, take a walk around. Northern prices are cheap.”

The mood in the car was mostly light—except for one person.

Quade stared out the window, unimpressed. To him, this place was a relic. Backward. Crude. Ugly.

Where were the clean hotels? The polished restaurants? The polished anything?

He leaned forward, clearly irritated. “Just focus on the drive. We’ve got business to take care of.”

The driver gave a polite nod, lips pressed into a thin line. He understood the type, and he knew that he couldn’t afford to offend these people.

About thirty minutes later, the vehicle rolled to a stop beside the towering city wall. The outer edge of Bloodstone Warfare School was the wall that defended Krythos itself.

“This is taking forever,” Quade muttered, visibly annoyed.

BZZZZZ!

Just as the words left his mouth, a deep, resonant horn shook the air. The sound of ancient gears grinding and heavy chains rattling echoed around them. With a mechanical groan, a massive steel gate split open from the center of the wall.

“Bloodstone was built into the structure of the city itself,” the driver said with a rare solemnity. “There’s a saying around here—‘If the school doesn’t fall, the North won’t break.’”

The weight in his tone made everyone pause. No one responded.

As the path cleared ahead, their convoy began to roll through the entrance. The noise around them seemed to vanish, swallowed by the presence of this grim fortress.

Just beyond the gate was an open martial arts arena.

“Look!” Zara pointed, eyes wide.

Everyone turned—and froze.

Steam hissed in the cold air. Dozens—no, hundreds—of shirtless young men moved in formation across the field, their bodies slick with sweat despite the snow. They trained in complete silence. No shouting. No instructors. No supervision. Just pure, relentless effort.

The cars passing by didn’t distract them in the slightest.

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