Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

In his office at the Shiverstone City Police Department, Chief Preston Kensington sat in his leather chair, sipping coffee and scanning the morning paper. A faint smile curved his lips.

The academy tournament had brought in swarms of visitors—Awakened from all over the region—and yet, for weeks, Shiverstone had remained peaceful.

No riots, no chaos. Just a few petty skirmishes between young hotheads.

For a man nearing retirement, it was a miracle. “A few more years of this,” he murmured, “and I’ll bow out with a clean record.”

Preston was a Kensington by birth, though his cultivation talent had always been modest. Nearing sixty, he’d only reached Level Three as an Awakener—but in politics, he’d climbed far higher. He’d traded strength for influence, and that bargain had served him well.

His phone rang. Walter’s name flashed on the screen. Preston smiled—he respected the man. Walter wasn’t powerful, but he had backbone—a rare thing in the department these days.

“Walter,” he said pleasantly. “What’s wrong?”

A few seconds later, his smile was gone.

“Vaughn Brighthelm was killed… by Axel? And Axel turned himself in?”

For a long moment, Preston said nothing. Even in his decades of service, he had never handled a case this volatile. He knew both names too well.

Axel, the gifted prodigy from Bloodstone Warfare School—personally recommended by Tristan, one of the academy’s high mentors, and a friend of Marcus Kensington, who was currently under family supervision.

And Vaughn Brighthelm, heir to one of the great houses. The Brighthelms were powerful—very powerful. Their patriarch, an Awakener of the Divine Might Realm, held influence that could shake entire provinces. The family’s reach rivaled even his own ancestors.

Preston’s coffee suddenly tasted bitter. “Walter,” he said after a long silence, “listen to me carefully. This isn’t a crime scene anymore. It’s politics.”

Walter’s voice crackled through the line. “Understood, Chief.”

“Good. Keep Axel calm. Don’t provoke him. And for God’s sake, don’t let the press catch wind of this until I get there.”

“Yes, sir.”

Preston hung up, already reaching for his heavy coat. He didn’t even bother to finish dressing properly before striding for the door.

“This is going to blow up fast,” he muttered. Without the backing of his family, Preston knew he’d be powerless to control what was coming next.

A Brighthelm was dead.

Even if Vaughn wasn’t the family’s golden child, the fact remained—one of their own had been killed. And the killer was already sitting in a Shiverstone police car.

Preston climbed into his own vehicle, his driver waiting with the engine running.

“Where to, Chief?”

Preston’s voice was grim. “Industrial Farm Station. Step on it.”

......

Inside the hotel where Stormwatch Academy’s delegation was staying, Vernon Brighthelm sat at his desk, frowning. Vaughn still hadn’t shown up for lunch, and his calls had gone unanswered all morning. He was just about to try again when his phone buzzed—and the world seemed to tilt beneath him.

He froze, reading the message once, twice—then the phone slipped from his hand and clattered onto the floor. His breath came short and uneven. For a long time, he just sat there, staring into nothing.

When he finally spoke, his voice was raw. “…How could this happen?”

The Brighthelm clansman who had brought the news clenched his fists, his face tight with anger. “Lord Vernon, this Axel......He killed Young Master Vaughn without hesitation!”

Vernon said nothing. The man’s outrage barely registered. Beneath his grief, something heavier churned inside him—doubt.

He knew Axel. A brilliant mind, sharp as a blade. And though he only knew fragments of what had happened—that Vaughn had apparently broken into Axel’s residence and attacked him, only to be killed in self-defense—Vernon couldn’t accept it at face value.

Axel’s strength far outclassed Vaughn’s. If he’d wanted to, he could’ve subdued the boy in seconds—crippled him, humiliated him, whatever he pleased. But kill him? That wasn’t a rash mistake.

Vernon’s chest heaved. “Why?” he whispered bitterly. “Why the hell did you have to kill him? Because you’re a Whisper Syndicate member? Because you’re a rising star at Bloodstone Warfare School? You think that gives you the right to do whatever the fuck you want?”

His laughter was hollow, echoing off the walls—half rage, half despair.

“Axel,” he hissed through his teeth, “I want you dead.”

He stormed out of the room, his phone already in his hand, dialing number after number, his fury spilling through the corridors of the hotel.

The news spread fast. Within an hour, every member of the Stormwatch Academy team had heard.

“What? Vaughn’s dead?!” Octavius blurted, his face going pale. Rook, beside him, felt his stomach drop. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence pressed in, heavy with regret.

If they hadn’t teased him last night, would Vaughn still have gone after Axel?

“Wait—killed by Axel?!” Terrence stumbled out of the bathroom, toothbrush still in hand, foam dripping from his mouth. His voice cracked in disbelief.

The three of them sat frozen as hurried footsteps approached. Sergio and Raymond entered, their expressions grim. Sergio took a deep breath and dropped into a chair.

“I knew Vaughn was reckless,” he muttered. “But I didn’t think he was suicidal. Did he really think no one would kill a Brighthelm?”

Rook and Octavius exchanged glances but said nothing. They, too, were nobles. And though they didn’t like Vaughn much, the weight of his family name—and the blood now on Axel’s hands—wasn’t lost on them.

“Come on,” Terrence muttered around his toothbrush. “The guy’s dead. You could at least say something decent.”

Sergio’s eyes snapped up. “Don’t start with me, Terrence. You’re just as clueless as he was. You don’t even know your own teammate’s temperament.”

Terrence spat into the sink, annoyed. “Hey, I wasn’t exactly close to him. We barely talked outside of training. It’s not like we were friends.”

He wasn’t wrong. Despite being among Stormwatch’s strongest, the academy’s elite rarely interacted outside competitions. Most of them had learned their real skills from their own family mentors anyway. Four years together hadn’t changed that.

Raymond leaned forward, looking at Sergio carefully. “So what now? You called us here for a reason, didn’t you?”

Sergio hesitated for a moment, then spoke slowly. “We don’t have the full story yet. But when the police start their investigation, they’ll question us—everyone who saw or heard anything between Vaughn and Axel. And that means us.”

Rook’s and Octavius’s expressions hardened. They immediately understood his point.

Axel had admitted to killing Vaughn, claiming self-defense during an assassination attempt. But there were no cameras out there—no witnesses except him. The police would need testimony to piece things together.

And last night, everyone in this room had seen what happened in the Landscape Scroll. Vaughn’s public rage toward Axel, his drunken fury when he smashed the doorframe, his storming off into the night. All of it would now be used as evidence.

After a long pause, Rook said, “I’ll check in with the elders before giving a statement.”

Octavius nodded. “We should tell the truth about what happened last night anyway. The footage doesn’t lie.”

Just then, Terrence stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hands, looking confused. “Why bother asking the elders? Just tell them what we saw. It’s not complicated.”

Rook and Octavius exchanged a look, smiling faintly, though without humor.

“Terrence....” Octavius said quietly. Not everyone came from the Starcrest family. You could afford to be honest.

They couldn’t.

Within their own families, they were nothing compared to Vaughn Brighthelm’s standing. For them, simply not lying would already be pushing the limits of defiance.

“Raymond, what about you?” Sergio asked quietly, his sharp eyes fixed on him.

Raymond hesitated, uncertainty flickering across his face. After a long silence, he finally spoke, voice low and awkward. “I just think… what Vaughn said back in the Landscape Scroll—it sounded more like drunken anger. He wouldn’t actually kill Axel, would he…?”

He trailed off, realizing how that sounded. Sergio said nothing, only gave him a long, pointed look. Raymond’s cheeks twitched. He knew exactly what that look meant.

“Anyway, I’ve got something to take care of,” he muttered, slipping out of the room.