The subterranean workshop was draped in a heavy, suffocating silence that felt almost unnatural after the thunderous chaotic violence that had just taken place. Plaster dust, pulverized concrete, and the acrid stench of burnt cordite hung in the air like a thick fog. Sparks danced along the shattered remnants of the reinforced steel doorway, dripping sizzled insulation onto the cold stone floor below. Scattered across the entryway lay the broken, groaning bodies of over two dozen municipal riot enforcers, their heavy tactical armor dented, their riot shields shattered, and their weapons discarded uselessly beside them.
At the center of this total destruction stood the five members of the newly formed DREAMHUNTERS.
Lam slowly lowered his hand, his expression entirely unbothered. The dense, violet-black Endermite shells that had encased his palms dissolved back into thin air, leaving his hands completely untouched by the high-explosive grenade he had crushed moments prior. He casually adjusted the lapels of his coat, his crimson eyes losing their intense glow and returning to their calm, dark hue. To him, decimating an entire municipal tactical unit was no more exhausting than brushing off a fleck of dust.
Shoaib stood completely motionless beside his drafting table, his jaw slightly open as his analytical mind struggled to process what he had just witnessed. He had spent years studying engineering, structural physics, and tactical defense systems in Builder City. He knew the sheer military power of the municipal police force—their heavy riot armor was rated to withstand direct rocket impacts, and their coordination was designed to suppress rogue syndicates within minutes. Yet, in less than sixty seconds, this small group had dismantled the entire battalion without taking a single step backward.
Faizan was already calmly sheathing his Diamond Sword with a crisp, metallic click, his posture relaxed as if he had just finished a routine exercise. Saad was casually decoupling his heavy Cannon from its tripod mount, carefully securing the kinetic firing pin back into his side holster. Nehal, moving with silent efficiency, wiped a invisible speck of dust from his Dual Diamond Blades before slipping them cleanly into the twin scabbards strapped across his back.
Lam turned away from the pile of unconscious officers, looking around the ruined workshop with an air of mild indifference.
"So let's go to our hotel," Lam said, gesturing toward the stairs as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired.
Shoaib snapped out of his trance, blinking rapidly as he quickly reached down to sling his heavy leather satchel—packed tightly with his blueprints, drafting instruments, and core building schematics—over his shoulder. He looked at the smoking entrance, then at his new guild leader.
"So let's book a taxi," Shoaib suggested, pulling out his wrist-mounted municipal pad to check if any civilian transport networks were still active in the lower grid at this late hour.
"No need," Lam replied casually as he began walking up the concrete stairwell, stepping over shattered riot shields without breaking his stride.
The five of us filed out of the subterranean workshop and emerged into the cool, damp night air of Builder City's industrial sector. Towering skyscrapers stretched into the dark sky all around us, their glass facades reflecting the vibrant, buzzing neon signs of the upper city levels. Rain had recently fallen, leaving the asphalt street slick and gleaming under the flashing ambient lights.
Parked right near the alley curb, its engine idling with a low mechanical rumble, was an abandoned municipal police cruiser. It was a heavy, armored patrol unit that the raiding squad had left behind, its roof-mounted light bar still flashing silent bursts of red and blue across the wet street.
Lam walked straight up to the driver's side door of the police car. He didn't look for a key, nor did he look for a control panel. He simply reached out with his right hand, gripped the heavy chrome door handle, and flexed his fingers slightly.
CRACK!
With a brutal display of sheer physical force, the vehicle's reinforced magnetic locking mechanism shattered into tiny metallic splinters. The heavy armored door popped open with a dull thud. Lam leaned inside, hit the master unlock switch on the center console, and pulled the door wide open.
"Here is our transport, come in," Lam said smoothly, stepping back and sweeping his arm out in a grand, polite gesture toward the interior of the stolen law enforcement vehicle.
Shoaib's eyes went wide with pure horror. "Wait..."
Before Shoaib could even finish his sentence, articulate the sheer mountain of municipal laws being violated, or explain the consequences of grand theft auto involving an active police cruiser, the rest of the guild moved without a second thought.
Faizan casually stepped past Shoaib and slid into the back seat, resting his scathed sword across his lap like a passenger on a leisurely commute. Nehal followed right behind him, pulling his legs in and closing his door with a solid, satisfying click. Saad didn't even hesitate—he hopped straight into the front passenger seat, pulling down the sun visor to inspect the dashboard wiring.
Shoaib stood alone on the wet sidewalk, his hand frozen mid-air, clutching his satchel strap tightly. He looked at the flashing red and blue lights on the roof, looked at the smashed lock dangling from the door handle, and then looked at Lam, who was standing patiently by the open rear door, waiting for him to get in.
Shoaib let out a long, heavy sigh that carried the profound exhaustion of a rational man who had officially given up on trying to apply normal logic to his life.
"Ah ok I am coming," Shoaib muttered to himself, shaking his head as he reluctantly climbed into the back seat beside Nehal.
Lam climbed in last, slamming the rear door shut behind him. The heavy insulated glass immediately sealed out the cold night air, replacing it with the quiet hum of the vehicle's internal climate control.
They go inside the car.
Shoaib leaned forward from the back row, resting his hands on the front headrests as he looked at the completely dark digital console and the empty steering column.
"Ah can anyone drive," Shoaib asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I can," Saad said smoothly.
Without waiting for a keycard or a biometric scan, Saad reached beneath the dashboard console, pulled down a bundle of primary ignition wires with practiced familiarity, and stripped two copper cables with his thumbnail. He flicked them together twice. A bright arc of blue electricity sparked in the dark cabin, and the heavy V8 turbine engine roared to life with a deep, muscular growl. The digital dashboard illuminated instantly, displaying tactical city maps, frequency monitors, and speed diagnostics.
Shoaib stared at the glowing dashboard in disbelief, then turned his gaze toward Saad. "License."
Lam, sitting comfortably in the middle of the back row with his legs crossed, tilted his head slightly. "What it is."
Shoaib turned his entire torso around in his seat to face Lam directly, adjusting his posture to explain the basic principles of civil governance.
"A driver's license," Shoaib explained carefully, "is an official legal document issued by the city municipality. It certifies that an individual has undergone formal training, passed practical examination tests, understands traffic safety laws, and holds the legal authorization to operate a motorized vehicle on public thoroughfares. Operating an armored vehicle without one is a severe offense."
Lam listened with genuine interest, nodding his head slowly as Shoaib detailed the administrative concept. A sudden look of sudden clarity flashed across Lam's face.
"Oh so this is license, I thought that it might be something to travel from one realm to another," Lam said, resting his chin on his palm.
Shoaib froze, blinking as the sentence registered in his mind. "How did you know about anything like this."
Lam looked at him with complete, unbothered sincerity. "Cuz I have a same one."
Shoaib opened his mouth to ask what kind of cosmic authority issued inter-realm transit permits to high schoolers, but he immediately caught himself. He closed his mouth, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and took a deep, steadying breath. Arguing with the logic of a World Champion was a battle he was not equipped to win tonight.
"Ok start the car," Shoaib said, leaning back into his seat and gripping his satchel tightly.
Saad didn't need to be told twice. He slammed the gear selector into drive, stomped his foot onto the accelerator, and the heavy police cruiser surged forward with terrifying acceleration. The tires screamed against the damp asphalt, leaving smoking rubber trails behind as Saad whipped the heavy vehicle out of the alleyway and merged directly onto Builder City's high-speed elevated expressway.
The drive was a blur of neon lights, towering sky-bridges, and massive holographic advertisements. Saad drove like a seasoned getaway driver, weaving effortlessly between automated cargo transports, civilian hover-cars, and public transit shuttles. Whenever a municipal network scan attempted to ping the stolen police vehicle, Saad simply tapped a button on his hand-held tactical frequency jammer, scrambling the radar signals and casting a blind spot over the car.
Within fifteen minutes, the massive, gleaming silhouette of their luxury destination came into view. The grand hotel rose fifty stories into the clouds, its polished black glass exterior illuminated by flowing lines of golden LED accents. It was one of the most exclusive accommodations in the entire upper sector of Builder City, catering to elite merchants, high-tier guild masters, and visiting dignitaries.
Saad smoothly guided the cruiser off the main highway, taking a secondary service ramp that led around the back of the massive hotel complex. He pulled the vehicle deep into a dark, secluded maintenance alley positioned between two massive industrial recycling units, completely out of sight from the main street cameras.
They came back to their hotel. They leave the car into safe spot.
Shoaib opened the rear door and stepped out onto the polished pavement of the maintenance yard, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at the idling, stolen law enforcement vehicle.
"Now what to do with it," Shoaib asked, pointing at the car. "If the city patrols find an abandoned municipal vehicle parked directly behind our hotel, they will trace the vehicle's log files straight to our floor."
Lam stepped out of the vehicle last, dusting off his coat sleeves. He walked casually up to the rear bumper of the heavy armored cruiser, stopping right beside the glowing tail lights. Without saying a single word, Lam bent down slightly, dug his bare fingers deep into the solid steel undercarriage frame, and lifted the entire two-and-a-half-ton police car off the ground with one hand.
Shoaib's eyes bulged out of his head.
With an effortless flick of his wrist, Lam swung his arm back and threw it away.
The two-ton armored vehicle shot through the night air like a thrown pebble, flying over eighty meters down the length of the alleyway. It arced cleanly through the dark before crashing with a deafening, metallic crunch into the depths of a massive, two-hundred-foot-deep abandoned foundation pit at the edge of the construction sector.
BOOM!
A muted explosion of dust, twisted metal, and shattered glass echoed from the depths of the pit as the car crumpled into an unrecognizable heap of scrap iron, instantly buried beneath tons of loose dirt and gravel. Any trace of the vehicle, its tracking transponders, or its black box was completely destroyed in an instant.
Shoaib stared into the dark abyss of the construction pit, his hand still raised in the air, his voice completely trapped in his throat.
Shoaib says nothing.
Lam dusted his hands together with a satisfied nod, turning back toward the hotel's private rear entrance as if he had just tossed a piece of crumpled paper into a trash bin.
"See, now go," Lam said, waving his hand toward the door.
They entered the hotel through the private VIP entrance. A silent, gold-lined express elevator was waiting for them. As soon as the five of us stepped inside, Nehal tapped his VIP access key against the sensor panel. The heavy glass doors slid shut, and the elevator surged upward, climbing fifty floors in a matter of seconds while smooth, ambient jazz music played softly from the ceiling speakers.
DING.
The elevator doors glided open, revealing the entrance to their private penthouse suite.
They come to their room.
The suite was breathtakingly massive, occupying the entire top floor of the building. Vaulted ceilings stretched high above, featuring glowing crystal chandeliers that cast a warm, ambient light across the space. The floor was made of polished obsidian tile, partially covered by thick, hand-woven silk carpets. A massive, floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass wall offered an incredible, unobstructed view of Builder City's entire glowing night skyline.
The suite was fully equipped with luxurious velvet sofas, private master bedrooms, state-of-the-art spatial defense wards, and even a high-grade mechanical drafting station designed specifically for elite architects.
Shoaib walked slowly into the center of the living area, looking around at the sheer extravagance of the room. He ran his hand along the polished marble edge of a central lounge bar, then turned back toward Lam, who had already thrown himself casually onto the giant central leather sofa, resting his head against the plush cushions.
Shoaib crossed his arms, looking down at his guild leader with a serious, practical expression.
"Ah I have a question how much do you have," Shoaib asked.
Lam blinked, looking up from the sofa cushions. "What."
"Money," Shoaib clarified, raising a finger. "We are in the heart of Builder City. Buying raw materials, purchasing rare spatial metals, acquiring power cores, and assembling a multi-verse Mothership requires astronomical amounts of currency. A project like this can easily bankrupt entire small nations. So, how much money do we actually have in our guild treasury?"
Lam sat up slightly, scratching his chin as he realized he had never actually asked for an exact audit of their finances. He turned his head toward the front passenger seat where Saad was unpacking his gear.
"Ah Saad how much," Lam asked.
Saad paused, mid-reach into his tactical bag. He blinked, looked at the ceiling for a second, and then turned toward the corner where Faizan was hanging up his cloak.
"Ah Faizan how much," Saad asked.
Faizan stopped unbuckling his sword belt, holding his scabbard in one hand while looking completely lost. He cleared his throat and looked over at the quiet figure standing near the balcony glass.
"I don't know, nehal do you know," Faizan said, passing the question down the chain.
Nehal, who handled the team's logistics and spatial storage, reached into his inner jacket pocket without a word. He pulled out a sleek, gold-bordered spatial wallet—a high-grade storage device capable of holding physical currency cards and dimensional realm tokens. He tapped the glowing crystal interface on the front of the wallet, reading the balance display that flashed across the screen.
"We have 700K now," Nehal reported in a calm, flat tone.
Lam's face lit up with a wide, confident grin as he leaned back into the sofa cushions, clapping his hands together once.
"Nice so much," Lam said, thoroughly pleased with the number.
Shoaib nearly choked on his own breath. "Where did you get this from."
Seven hundred thousand credits in solid, unlinked realm currency was an utterly staggering amount of money. In Builder City, 700K was enough to purchase an entire commercial block, hire an army of high-tier mercenaries, or stock an entire industrial workshop with rare mythical ores. For a newly formed guild to be walking around with that much liquid capital was practically unheard of.
Lam looked at Shoaib with a casual smile, resting his arms over the back of the couch.
"Ah villagers of the WARDEN RIVER CITY gave us this," Lam explained simply.
Shoaib's eyes widened even further. He had read about Warden River City in the historical archives—it was a legendary, hyper-dangerous frontier settlement located on the absolute edge of the deep abyssal boundary. The villagers who lived there were notoriously hardened, suspicious, and fiercely independent survivalists who fought off high-rank demonic beasts on a daily basis. For those villagers to freely hand over 700,000 credits meant that Lam and his squad had accomplished something truly monumental—or utterly terrifying—to save their city.
Shoaib took a deep breath, walking around the penthouse suite once more. He inspected the high-speed data terminals, tested the drafting table's holographic projection array, and looked out over the sprawling, glowing metropolis below. The realization hit him that he was no longer just an isolated builder working in a hidden underground shop; he was part of a guild with unmatched physical power, limitless ambition, and massive financial backing.
Shoaib explores it and says, "ok it's so good."
---
Soon night comes.
The grand city of Builder City slowly quieted down as the midnight hours settled in. The brilliant holographic advertisements across the skyscraper district dimmed to their low-power night modes, casting long, peaceful blue and violet shadows across the glass towers. Outside the penthouse windows, the ambient traffic faded into a faint, distant hum.
Inside the luxury suite, the main lighting arrays were turned off, plunging the massive room into comfortable darkness. The only light came from the soft, pale silver rays of the moon filtering through the giant panoramic glass wall, illuminating the quiet room in a cool glow.
They are sleeping.
The five DREAMHUNTERS were spread across the expansive suite, exhausted from the day's events. Faizan lay fully clothed on a bed near the main entrance corridor, his Diamond Sword resting against the nightstand within immediate reach of his hand. Saad was fast asleep on the reclining lounge chair, his tactical visor resting on his chest, snoring softly. Nehal lay perfectly still on one of the guest beds, his breathing quiet and even. Shoaib was sound asleep in his private quarters, his leather satchel placed carefully on the nightstand beside his head.
In the master bedroom at the center of the suite, Lam was stretched out on the massive king-sized bed, his arms resting behind his head, completely relaxed in deep sleep.
The entire floor was dead silent. The high-grade spatial dampening wards built into the walls blocked out all external sound, creating a sanctuary of complete peace fifty stories above the ground.
Click.
It was an microscopic sound—so quiet that even a high-grade security sensor would have struggled to pick it up.
At the far end of the living room, near the outdoor balcony terrace, the heavy reinforced glass door shuddered by less than a millimeter. A thin, black, needle-like bypass tool had been slipped into the door's magnetic lock housing. With a tiny, silent hiss of released pressure, the lock mechanism was bypassed.
Slowly, silently, the glass door slid open just enough for a shadow to pass through.
Suddenly a thief came to their room.
It was covered its full body. The intruder wore specialized high-tier stealth gear made of a dark, light-absorbing cloth that reflected no moonlight and emitted zero thermal heat signature. A tight, full-face tactical mask concealed every feature of the head, leaving no eyes, skin, or expression visible. On the thief's feet were soft, acoustic-dampening boots designed to eliminate all footsteps, allowing the intruder to glide across the polished obsidian floor like a ghost.
The thief was an absolute master of covert operations—a high-ranking shadow operative who specialized in targeting elite visitors staying in Builder City's top-tier luxury hotels.
Moving with blinding speed and absolute silence, the thief surveyed the dimly lit suite. The thief pulled a compact, black spatial vacuum bag from a utility belt.
First, the shadow figure glided over to the central glass table where Nehal had left his gold-bordered spatial wallet. With a swift, gentle movement, the thief swept the wallet—containing the entire 700,000 credit treasury—into the spatial bag without making a single sound.
Next, the thief moved toward Saad's lounge chair. With surgical precision, slender black-gloved fingers lifted Saad's specialized tactical tools, his frequency jammer, and his spare kinetic energy cells straight off the table beside him.
Then, the thief slipped silently into Shoaib's room. Without causing a single vibration in the floorboards, the thief lifted Shoaib's heavy leather satchel directly off the nightstand, securing his master Mothership blueprints, his rare drafting tools, and his official DREAMHUNTERS guild emblem.
The thief takes everything.
Every coin, every piece of technology, every rare material, every weapon pouch, and every piece of documentation in the entire suite was systematically cleared out and swallowed into the thief's spatial bag within less than two minutes. It was a flawless Heist—a masterclass in stealth that left the victims completely disarmed and penniless without them even realizing it.
Having emptied the entire room, the thief backed slowly toward the open balcony glass. Reaching into the stealth suit's collar, the thief blew softly into an ultrasonic signaling whistle.
A second later, four more dark shapes dropped silently from the roof above, descending on high-tension magnetic cables.
Then his gang come to the room.
Four additional full-body covered shadow operatives slipped through the balcony door like a pack of hunting wolves. Each member of the gang pulled out short, dark-alloy daggers coated in high-grade paralyzing poison. They fanned out across the living room, quietly positioning themselves around the sleeping bodies of Faizan, Saad, Nehal, and Shoaib, holding their blades ready to strike if anyone showed signs of stirring while the lead thief prepared to leap off the balcony into the night.
The lead thief held up the heavy spatial bag, feeling the immense weight of 700,000 credits and irreplaceable master blueprints. Underneath the full-face mask, the thief smiled in absolute victory. It was the easiest, most valuable score in the history of Builder City's underworld.
CLIFFHANGER:
But suddenly Lam wakes up.
He didn't wake up slowly. There was no stretching, no groaning, and no gradual return to consciousness.
In a single, terrifying millisecond, two brilliant, blood-red eyes snapped open in the pitch-black darkness of the master bedroom.
The moment those eyes opened, the atmospheric pressure inside the fifty-story penthouse suite plummeted drastically. The air grew ice-cold, and an invisible, crushing weight descended upon the room—a suffocating aura of pure, unadulterated primal power that froze the air in the thieves' lungs.
Lam sat up slowly on the edge of the master bed, his dark silhouette illuminated only by the terrifying crimson fire burning in his eyes.
He sees all of them.