In the Vornshade Clans' main base, the air was thick with tension. Inside the war chamber, the five leaders of the clan had gathered, their presence alone enough to make any ordinary soldier freeze.
Each of them commanded their own squad of paragon warriors and mages, but above them all stood one man—Varkov, the undisputed head of the Vornshade Clans.
Even the other leaders, proud and deadly as they were, lowered their tone when he spoke.
On his left sat Mireya Korvin, silver-white hair cut sharp at her jawline, glacier-blue eyes that could chill blood, and a faint scar that ran from temple to jaw.
She wore a black bra top and a short combat skirt that revealed more steel than skin—every inch of her screamed danger.
Across the table loomed Dravik Orlov—massive frame, head shaved clean, tattoos crawling across his skin in jagged patterns. He looked like a war machine built from muscle and rage.
Next was Kira Vostan, her jet-black hair tied into twin braids. Crimson eyes, always half-amused. Her lips curled into a sly smirk, like she knew secrets that could end worlds.
And then there was Ravlen Markovitch—thin, quiet, and unsettling. Half his face was hidden behind a skull mask; the exposed half showed a calm, pale face. The masked eye socket, however, glowed pitch-black, no hint of white in it. Just darkness staring back.
These were the five pillars of the Vornshade Clans—their strongest, their cruelest, their leaders.
But they weren't alone in that room. A few of their squad members stood behind them, silent as shadows. And among them, at the far end of the table, sat a man whose presence made even the leaders shift slightly—Lucius Vanderbilt.
He was the only one without anyone standing behind him — and that was because Lucius wasn't part of the Vornshade Clans.
Just now, though, he'd dropped a line that froze the entire room.
"I'm here to look for Eddie," Lucius said calmly.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush air. Then—
"hahah....!!!"
Varkov burst into a deep, roaring laugh. The kind of laugh that didn't match the situation at all. His voice echoed through the metal walls, bouncing off the edges of the war room.
He was the only one laughing.
Moments like this might have felt awkward for anyone else, but not for Varkov. He thrived on it.
"Look at this," Varkov said mid-laughter, pounding a fist lightly on the table.
"Who would've thought you'd show up here, of all places, looking for Eddie?"
He let the laughter fade, his grin dying as quickly as it came. His eyes sharpened. The room grew colder.
"Eddie's not here," Varkov said flatly.
Bang!
Lucius slammed both hands on the table. The sound was like thunder.
A burst of pressure rippled out from him — unseen but sharp. Several of the leaders nearby were thrown from their chairs, crashing to the ground.
Instantly, they jumped back up, their energy flaring, ready to strike at a moment's notice.
"Stop that bullshit!" Lucius barked, his voice carrying power. "Eddie's here, and you know it. You're lying."
Varkov tilted his head, his smirk returning. He spoke in a mocking, almost playful tone.
"Wow... look at that. The great Lucius Vanderbilt losing his temper."
"Seems like you've finally achieved your breakthrough, haven't you?" Varkov said, his tone half-curious, half-taunting.
Lucius rose to his feet.
At the same time, Varkov stood as well, and the rest of the room stirred — chairs scraped, hands hovered near weapons, power hummed just beneath the surface.
The air thickened.
Tension coiled tight like a drawn bowstring.
"Where is Eddie?" Lucius asked. His voice came out low, but there was a growl buried in it — primal, animal.
Varkov tilted his head.
"What are you even talking about?" he said casually, though his eyes stayed sharp.
"Weren't you the one who told Eddie to stop coming to my base? So tell me — what makes you think he'd be here?"
Lucius's gaze hardened.
"Yes, I told him to cut contact," he said slowly.
"But I know he didn't listen. Eddie kept visiting you — even after my warning. So stop playing dumb and tell me where he is."
His voice deepened at the end, every word heavy.
A faint surge of qi slipped from his control — a small leak, but it hit the room like a wave.
Instantly, everyone except Varkov stepped back.
The force pressed against their skin, an invisible weight that made it hard to breathe. Even the other leaders flinched.
Varkov, however, stayed calm. He simply lowered himself back into his chair and rested a hand under his chin.
"Now that's strange," he said, watching Lucius with mild amusement.
"I'm being honest with you — Eddie hasn't visited here since last week."
Lucius, hearing this, calmly retracted his qi.
"Did he tell you anything about where he was going?" he asked.
"No… except for a strange mission he wanted me to carry out," Varkov replied, his tone now measured — careful with every word.
Even though he hadn't shown fear during Lucius' display of power, he could still feel it thrumming inside him.
"What mission?" Lucius pressed.
"Do you expect me to tell you about a job a client gave me?" Varkov shot back.
Their eyes locked, neither man blinking — two storms colliding in silence.
"Whatever," Varkov muttered finally, snatching an iPad from the table and scrolling through.
"Last week, Eddie sent me this photo of the target," he said, handing it over.
Lucius took it, his expression hardening as the image loaded.
"Alex?" he murmured.
"Oh… you know the boy?" Varkov asked.
Lucius' voice dropped lower. "Do you even realize who that is?"
Varkov frowned. "Who?"
"He's John's grandson," Lucius said quietly.
"Ah..." Varkov said, a slow look of realization sliding over his face.
"Why would Eddie give you a mission to target a boy like him?" Lucius asked, though the answer already simmered in his mind.
"I don't know. It's not my place to ask," Varkov replied, easing back in his chair. "Although I did hear him mutter a few times that the boy will grow into a big problem."
"That even makes me want to carry out the mission even more," Varkov added, the grin at the corner of his mouth growing crueler.
"What are you planning to do to him?" Lucius asked, voice low.
"What do you think we do?" Varkov shot back sarcastically. "What do we do here, mainly?"
The Vornshade Clan had a reputation — organ trafficking, slave trading, every filthy marketable crime under the sun. Varkov's words left no doubt what he meant: make Alex another commodity.
"Eddie said the boy has an undeveloped but valuable qi. His organs will fetch a fortune on the black market," Varkov said plainly.
"You will do no such thing," Lucius answered immediately, the words sharp.
"The boy is not to be touched. He is John's grandson. You are not permitted to touch him," Lucius said, voice colder now.
"What...?" Varkov barked, taken aback.
"Unfortunately, the mission has already been paid for," Varkov responded, shrugging as if that settled everything. "Unless you're willing to pay something higher than Eddie already paid."
Lucius studied Varkov for a long moment, jaw tight.
' I could crush his skull right here and now,' he thought, 'but I believe we might still need his services later. Best to keep Wyndhams ties with the Vornshade close.'
"What do you want?" Lucius asked finally, controlled but menacing.
Varkov's smile widened into something like triumph as he leaned forward, eyes glittering with opportunity.
"As you can see, there are some unwanted visitors in my base. I want you to put an end to the commotion, then we can discuss the balance," Varkov said, voice flat and decisive.
Lucius rose without another word and began to walk out of the room.
At once, Varkov snapped orders to the others. "Kira Vostan, Dravik Orlov — gather your squads and follow him." He didn't wait for replies. "I need one of the attackers captured alive," he added, cold and precise.
"Ravlen Markovitch, take care of the newly brought-in slaves," Varkov continued. "Make sure none of them are harmed by what's happening out there. We can't let this commotion ruin our business."
"What about me?" Mireya Korvin asked, her voice soft but sharp, eyes narrowing with interest.
Varkov turned to her, a hungry gleam in his gaze. "Don't we have an unfinished cultivation project?" he asked, lips curling as if tasting an idea.
Lucius walked past them all, already moving toward the exit. As he passed, the scene behind him left a bitter taste.
'Disgusting animal,' he thought, cold and distant.
---
Through the chaos, Dravik Orlov found himself standing face-to-face with Gwen.
Up on the cliff, Kira Vostan crouched for a second — then launched herself off the edge like a dark arrow. The air cracked around her as she dropped, twin braids whipping behind her. As she descended, chunks of the cliff broke loose, tumbling down toward Merrick like falling meteors.
On the other side of the battlefield, Tamsin stood in front of Lucius — a newly evolved Stage 7 Paragon warrior.
"Hey, guys…" Tamsin's voice came through the team's system link, laced with unease. "Looks like they finally decided to send their elites."
"Yeah, and I'm up against a Stage 5 Mage," Gwen reported, her tone calm but tight.
"Same here," Merrick's voice buzzed in. "Can't tell the exact level yet, but it smells like a mage."
Tamsin exhaled slowly. "Hey, Merrick, any mention of a Stage 7 Paragon warrior in the reports?"
"None... wait—what?" Merrick's voice spiked in shock. "You're up against a Stage 7?"
"Stage 7?" Gwen cut in. "Are you sure you can even take that on?"
"You two just finish your fights fast and get over here," Tamsin said, eyes locked on Lucius, who stood calmly like a statue carved from stone. "I'll hold him off as long as I can."
'This would've been easier if I could use my Bloodline power,' Tamsin thought, jaw clenching.
He knew the truth — a Stage 7 Paragon warrior was far beyond his league. But retreat wasn't an option. Not while his team was still out there fighting.
---
Meanwhile, somewhere else, Alex had just finished meditating. His breathing steadied, his body thrummed with returning strength.
"My body's about ninety percent recovered," he muttered, flexing his fingers. "I think I can rejoin the fight."
Without wasting another second, he dashed out of the hideout — the sound of battle echoing in the distance, pulling him back into the storm.