Apocalypse: becoming the hidden Ruler[English]

Seeing the confusion on Axel’s face, Zayden smiled faintly. “I know you’re with the military. But you don’t really understand how the Havoc Division works.”

“It’s closer to a civilian organization,” Zayden explained. “Within the Division, Awakened can exchange intelligence, accept missions from individuals, corporations, or institutions, and earn corresponding rewards.”

“A civilian organization?” Axel repeated.

“Yes. It was founded specifically to give civilian Awakened a platform. Aside from Everton and Rutherford, the heads of other branches are elected by civilians.”

“So don’t feel pressured. We’ll be holding several events soon and could use capable young Awakened to help manage them. It won’t eat into your time, and the compensation is generous.”

Terrence cut in immediately. “And you’re seriously lacking Original Instruments right now.”

Axel’s heart skipped a beat. That was painfully true.

Zayden shook his head. “You’re preparing to challenge Mr. Instrument King’s puppet formation. The major families will provide you with equipment anyway. There’s no need to join the Havoc Division just for that.”

Axel considered it for a moment.

“Mr. Zayden, I’ll give a verbal yes for now. Let me see where the event is held—if it’s convenient, I’ll participate.”

“Fair enough. Let’s exchange contact info.”

After they exchanged details, Zayden left with Terrence. Nigel was soon dragged away by his father as well.

Sergio then stepped forward. “Axel, we’re going into seclusion for a while. Once you absorb the Saint Sea Twig and everyone reaches mid-Level Five, we’ll go see the Craftsman.”

“The Craftsman?” Axel frowned. “Isn’t that Mr. Instrument King?”

“No. The Craftsman is the president of the Krythos Manufacturing Association. Same type of Awakened as Mr. Instrument King. He’ll give us all the intel we need before the challenge.”

Axel sighed inwardly. Big families really did have it easy. As long as your Awakening level was right, equipment and resources were handed to you on a silver platter.

They even had sparring partners lined up before challenging the puppet formation. If he hadn’t insisted on fighting Kenneth himself, who knew how many detours he would’ve taken.

After Sergio left, Axel clenched his fist.

“Next step—mid-Level Five.”

His thoughts drifted to the Abyss. “I wonder how Mr. Victor’s doing…” His eyes narrowed slightly.

......

Outside the training grounds, a fat man in a leather coat chewed on pork jerky as he strolled toward the Starcrest family’s territory. With his strength, he could eavesdrop from over a kilometer away—but when Zayden was involved, it felt safer to listen up close.

“Master,” said a woman in her early thirties with heavy, flamboyant makeup, “why tell Axel the family would lend him Original Instruments? Why not use that as leverage and pull him fully into the Havoc Division?”

Zayden shook his head. “Vesper, don’t play cheap games with Axel. Be honest.”

“Worried he’ll hold a grudge against the Starcrest family?” she scoffed. “Impossible. He’s just a commoner Awakened—he should be grateful for any attention from a powerful family.”

Zayden’s expression hardened instantly. “Don’t ever say that again.”

There were things he couldn’t explain to her. Things he hadn’t even told Nelson. Vernon and Vaughn’s deaths were a humiliation for the Brighthelm family—and that alone proved Axel wasn’t playing in the same league as his nephew.

“Vesper,” Zayden continued coldly, “you’re a candidate for the next Havoc Division president. Don’t let your thinking get so damn narrow.”

Vesper flushed red. She didn’t dare argue, lowering her head and nodding in silence.

“Axel won?”

Butcher adjusted the brim of his hat, his expression complicated. “He really was the perfect candidate to capture the saint.”

He clicked his tongue softly.

“Too bad he backed out.”

......

In the villa district, Butcher reported the day’s events to Riley.

“He beat that lunatic from the Goldleaf family?” Riley asked.

“Yeah,” Butcher replied. “He was the perfect candidate to capture the Saint. Damn shame.”

“I agree.”

Butcher handed her a small box. “Aurelion wants you to run an experiment with this.”

Riley took it, opened it carefully. Inside was a bloodstained tissue. A faint green glow spread from her palm as she brushed her fingers lightly across it.

The next second, her pupils shrank.

“Whose blood is this…?” Her voice sharpened. “Did Aurelion capture the Saint?”

Butcher shook his head. “He didn’t say.”

Riley stared at him. “You know who Aurelion really is?”

Butcher glanced around instinctively, then lowered his voice. “How about we go back inside and talk?”

Riley nodded and headed back to her villa.

Moments later, Butcher slipped in through the rear entrance. Riley sealed the doors and windows, then raised a Force barrier—denser and broader than anything she’d used before—enveloping the entire house.

“Who exactly is Aurelion?” Riley asked, tucking the box into her pocket as she sat down on the sofa. Her gaze locked onto Butcher’s fleshy face. “And why would he trust you with his identity?”

The Holy Light Organization’s roundtable once had eight members. Now that “Farmer” was dead, only seven remained.

Of those seven, Riley had only ever met Butcher in person. She knew he worked as a butcher somewhere. As for Aurelion? He knew everyone’s real identity. No one knew his.

“Why don’t you run your experiment first?” Butcher said. His mood was oddly subdued. He opened the fridge, found no beer, and sat back with a sigh.

“No rush,” Riley replied calmly. “If you want a drink, I’ll make one.”

She went to the kitchen, scooped out rice, added seasonings, and began manipulating them with her Force. Crushing. Saccharifying. Vortexing. Like brewing a potion, she cycled through containers and reactions at terrifying speed.

Before long, she set a large bottle of rice wine in front of him.

“Right,” Butcher laughed. “I forgot—you’re the Poison Master.” He took a deep swig, his cheeks wobbling as his eyes lit up. “Damn. That’s good.”

He leaned back, clutching the bottle, his bulk sinking into the sofa. His expression drifted into something distant.

“More than ten years ago,” he said slowly, “there was an outbreak of infected nearby. The whole city was locked down. Total silence protocol. Nobody in, nobody out.”

Riley listened without interrupting.

“My sister was stuck at home. Got sick. Just a cold, some fever.” He paused. “Do you know what happened next?”

Riley shook her head.

“She died alone in her apartment.” His voice didn’t rise, but something dark crept into it. “Later I found out she’d begged for help. The Protector ignored her.”

The warmth drained from Butcher’s eyes. A small knife appeared between his fingers, flipping lightly, dancing like it had a life of its own.

“I killed that Protector,” he said flatly. “Like slaughtering a pig. Slow. Careful. Piece by piece.”

His hand moved through the air, as if a living body lay dissected in front of him.

“You’re very… precise,” Riley said quietly.

“So I became a wanted criminal,” Butcher went on. “And I killed plenty of people who came after me.” He shrugged, as if talking about the weather.

Riley nodded. “And then you met Aurelion.”

“Yeah.” He scratched the back of his head and grinned faintly. “When I first met him, I thought I was dead. I couldn’t even fight back.”

“But he didn’t kill me,” Butcher continued. “Instead, he talked. Told me a lot of things.”

“He said the people hunting me were innocent. That I shouldn’t have killed them.” Butcher’s smile faded. “Then he said something I didn’t understand at the time.”

“He said the Protector was innocent too.”

Riley’s brows tightened.

“He said the Protector didn’t hate my sister. He was just following orders. Afraid of screwing up. That’s all.”

Butcher looked straight at Riley, his gaze clear.

“If he wasn’t wrong… then where was he wrong?”

Riley didn’t answer immediately. “You figured it out later.”

“Yeah.” His voice roughened. “The ones who gave the orders were guilty. Either they didn’t explain properly—or they just didn’t give a damn.”

A bloody, oppressive aura seeped from him.