Chapter 143: Reunion and Unsettling Truths
The final stretch of their journey to the extraction point was a masterclass in cautious advancement. Kai and Daren moved not with the hurried pace of men fleeing a battlefield, but with the deliberate, silent steps of predators navigating hostile territory. Every shadow was a potential ambush, every echo a possible footstep. They moved in a low crouch, using the jagged remnants of the tunnel walls for cover, their eyes constantly scanning the gloom ahead.
Finally, they reached a massive, blast-scarred doorway that marked the entrance to the main hangar—their designated meeting point. Kai held up a closed fist, bringing Daren to an immediate halt. He peered carefully around the edge of the doorway, his body tense, expecting to see a fortified position, a squad of waiting assassins, or the glint of a sniper's scope.
What he saw made him blink.
Leaning casually against a stack of crates, backlit by the dim, ambient light of the vast hangar, were two figures. They weren't in combat stances. They were… relaxing. Both had their heads tilted back, exhaling thin streams of smoke into the air. One wore a sharp grey leather jacket over a black t-shirt, the other a form-fitting red turtleneck. They were the picture of nonchalance in the heart of the enemy's lair.
It took Kai's analytical mind less than a second to process the familiar green eyes and the set of the shoulders. A wave of sheer, unadulterated relief washed over him, so potent it momentarily eclipsed his exhaustion. He stepped out from behind the doorway and walked towards them, his footsteps now loud and purposeful on the concrete. He reached out and placed a firm hand on the shoulder of the figure in the grey jacket.
Moon turned, a flicker of annoyance at the interruption quickly transforming into wide-eyed recognition. His eyes met Kai's, and a slow, genuine grin spread across his face. A mirroring smile broke through Kai's usual stoicism. In the next instant, the two brothers collided in a tight, wordless embrace. It wasn't a dramatic, emotional display, but a solid, grounding hug that communicated everything words could not: relief, survival, and the unshakable bond that had carried them through hell once again. Behind them, Daren let out a soft, relieved sigh, his own posture relaxing marginally.
After a long moment, they separated, hands still on each other's shoulders as they took a step back.
"You're in one piece?" Kai asked, his voice low, his eyes quickly scanning Moon for any hidden injuries.
"Mostly. And you? We heard the explosion… the whole ocean seemed to shake," Moon replied, his gaze also doing a quick medical assessment of his brother.
"We know about the Xiao brothers' betrayal," Kai stated, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. It was then that his sharp eyes, having confirmed Moon's safety, fully registered the third person. His gaze swept over Ryo, from his clean, flowing red hair down to his unfamiliar, fashionable pants. His brow furrowed slightly.
But it was Daren who vocalized the collective shock. "Brother Ryo?" he blurted out, his jaw practically unhinged. "You… in civil dress? And this… smell?" He took an involuntary step closer, inhaling the faint, clean scent of sandalwood with utter bewilderment. "You smell… good. Are you feeling alright? Did you hit your head?" He reached out, as if to feel Ryo's forehead for a fever.
Ryo swatted his hand away with a grunt, a faint blush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks beneath the usual grime of battle that was now conspicuously absent. "Forget all that!" he growled, steering the conversation back with force. "That bastard Ken! He was the brains behind this! He's the one who sold out Ashveil!" His voice was thick with a fresh wave of anger.
"And Shi Xiao attacked us," Daren added grimly, his own fists clenching at the memory. "The betrayal came from both sides."
A rapid-fire exchange began as the three of them—Moon, Ryo, and Daren—started piecing together their separate ordeals, a chaotic tapestry of manipulated essence creatures, gravitational powers, and puppet masters.
But Kai had gone silent. He took a half-step back from the circle, his mind detaching from the immediate debrief and plunging into the chilling implications. The questions swirled in his head like a toxic fog.
How did they know? How did Ken and Shi know about our connection to the Alhuwalia clan? That was a secret buried in the slums of Nova Lumina. The way Shi had said it—"The Worm of Bloodline"—it wasn't just intelligence; it was personal. It was the tone of someone who had a stake in their history.
Is 'that man'—the one pulling all their strings—someone from the Alhuwalia clan itself? The thought was terrifying. But why would a member of our own clan orchestrate this years in the making? Why build this entire organization, this 'Dark Veil Order,' just to target us?
Nothing made sense. The pieces didn't fit. His mind, a place of usually perfect order and logical strands, was now a tangled knot of contradictions and unsettling possibilities. He understood one thing with crystal clarity: they were not just pawns in a random game. They were the specific, pre-ordained targets of a trap that had been closing around them for a very, very long time, and he had no idea who was holding the snare.
He was jolted from his spiraling thoughts by the sound of his own name.
"...and then what Kai did to that Shi guy? I'm telling you, I'm a fan!" Daren was saying, a note of genuine admiration in his voice as he recounted the final showdown to Moon and Ryo.
Kai ignored the praise. His internal clock, always ticking, had reached zero. His head snapped up, his eyes scanning the vast, empty space in the center of the hangar where the teleporter was supposed to materialize.
"It's been 24 hours," he stated, his voice cutting through the conversation. "Where is the teleporter?"
The others fell silent, following his gaze. The space remained obstinately empty.
"This means something has gone wrong on the other side," Kai concluded, his voice dropping to a tactical murmur. "There's a problem at Ashveil HQ." He immediately reached into his storage ring, pulling out two small, intricately carved stones that hummed with a faint, unstable energy. "We have two single-use emergency teleporters. They can only transport one person each."
He didn't hesitate. He didn't call for a vote. He assumed command with a natural, unshakeable authority.
"Ryo. Daren. You two are going. Right now. Get to the other side, find Tom, and report everything. The betrayal, the Xiao brothers, the 'that man,' everything." He thrust the teleportation stones into their hands. The decision was made. The strategist had assessed the board, and this was the only move.
The command, delivered with Kai's signature cold finality, hung in the air. For a moment, neither Daren nor Ryo moved, stunned by the abruptness of the decision. The silence in the vast hangar was broken only by the distant, echoing drip of water.
"Why?" Ryo finally ground out, his pride stung. He straightened his posture, a flicker of defiance in his eyes. "We can still fight. We are not completely useless."
Kai's gaze was unwavering, his logic as sharp and unfeeling as a surgeon's scalpel. He looked at Ryo, truly seeing the subtle tremor in his hands and the deep-seated fatigue shadowing his eyes. "You've already pushed your core to its limit," Kai stated, his voice flat. "You may be standing, but you're running on fumes. Your essence is depleted, and your body is moments from collapse." His eyes then shifted to the younger man. "And you, Daren," he continued, "you are in no condition for what comes next. Your movements are slow, your reactions delayed. In your current state, you would be a liability to Moon and me, not an asset. You would be a burden we cannot afford to carry."
The brutal honesty of the assessment struck them silent. They couldn't refute it. The fire in Ryo's eyes banked, replaced by the grim acknowledgment of his own exhaustion. He looked away, his jaw clenched. Daren looked down at his own trembling hands, the truth of Kai's words settling heavily upon him. He knew Kai was right; he was barely standing.
Without another word of protest, Ryo gave a curt, reluctant nod. He and Daren simultaneously pulled a small, intricately inscribed formation scroll from their storage rings. Channeling the dregs of their essence energy into the parchment, the runes glowed a vibrant, pulsating emerald. The air before them shimmered and tore with a sound like ripping silk, opening an unstable, green-hued portal that hummed with transient, wild power. The light from it cast their faces in a sickly glow.
Before stepping through, both Ryo and Daren turned back for a final look at Moon and Kai. Their expressions were a mix of determination and unresolved worry.
"We'll be back," Daren promised, his voice firm despite the fatigue that laced it. "We will get to Tom. And we'll bring help back here for the two of you."
With that final vow, the two figures turned and stepped into the swirling, chaotic green energy. The portal flashed once, brightly, and then snapped shut behind them, leaving the hangar in a sudden, profound silence that felt heavier than before.
The moment they vanished, Moon immediately turned to his brother, his eyes narrowing with sharp perception. "Now," he said, his voice low and intent, cutting through the quiet. "Tell me the real reason you sent them away. This wasn't just about their fatigue."
Kai took a measured pause, the silence stretching as he gathered his troubling thoughts. His gaze was distant, fixed on the empty space where the portal had been. "That man, Ken Xiao," he began, his voice barely a whisper, yet carrying clearly in the stillness. "During your fight... did he also call you by that title? 'The Black Sheep of the Alhuwalias'?"
Moon's eyes widened a fraction, the memory flashing across his face before he gave a slow, grim nod. "He did. That's the part I can't figure out. How did a stranger, an enemy commander, get that information? It's not common knowledge."
"This is what I need you to understand," Kai said, leaning closer, his tone dropping to a deadly serious murmur meant only for his brother's ears. "I have been piecing it together. I believe this Dark Veil organization is being operated by someone connected to the Alhuwalia clan itself." He held up a hand, counting off the grim possibilities. "There are only two scenarios. First, that their target was always Tom's organization, and our involvement was merely a coincidence—we just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
He let the next words hang for a heavy beat, giving them their full, terrifying weight.
"Or," Kai continued, his voice growing even quieter, "this entire war, this entire elaborate trap... was orchestrated specifically for us. We are the primary targets."
Even as he said it, a flicker of doubt crossed Kai's normally impassive features. "But the first scenario, the coincidence, seems more logical, doesn't it?" he reasoned, almost trying to convince himself. The strategist in him fought against the paranoid theory. "How could anyone be so calculating, so preternaturally powerful, as to manipulate not just us, but every environmental factor and scenario, to engineer a specific result just for his benefit? The scale of it is... immense. It seems improbable. Isn't it?"
The final word, "isn't it?", was laced with a rare uncertainty. It felt hollow, a weak attempt to dismiss a theory that terrified him to his core. The second scenario—that they were the pre-ordained targets of a shadow from their own past—was a chilling possibility he wasn't ready to fully accept, a truth that threatened to unravel the very foundation of their reality.
---
Far away, seated atop his secluded mountain peak, Rivan Alhuwalia was in the final stages of preparing for his next act. The area around him was arranged not for battle, but for transformation. Several elegant suits were displayed, along with an organized clutter of pots of makeup, and an array of fine tools specifically for styling and sculpting hair.
After a moment of careful, precise preparation, he stood adorned in a flawless, brilliant white suit, tailored to perfection. He placed a matching white gentleman's hat upon his head at a precise angle. His hair, now a cascade of perfect, glossy curls, was parted neatly at the side. The overall effect was a striking, almost ethereal resemblance to the iconic pop legend, Michael Jackson.
A slow, theatrical smile spread across Rivan's lips as he admired his reflection in a full-length mirror that stood improbably on the mountain peak.
"It's cosplay time," he whispered to the silent, empty air around him, his voice filled with dark amusement.
To be continued…