The tank car rumbled through the streets of Abuja, carrying its exhausted cargo.
I sat with my head against the window, watching the city blur past. My body ached. My void energy was depleted. Every muscle screamed for rest.
Beside me, Michael was barely conscious.
He'd pushed himself too far. His Void Deck had drained him completely, and now he was paying the price. Grace had done what she could, but even her healing had limits.
"You okay?" I asked.
He grunted. "Fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I said I'm fine."
I let it drop.
Commander Adebayo was waiting for us at headquarters.
She stood with her arms crossed, her expression unreadable as we filed into the briefing room. The debriefing was quick—reports, assessments, a summary of the battle.
"You did well," she said. "The twin Rifts are closed. Casualties were minimal. That's a victory."
Relief washed over me. We'd done it. We'd actually done it.
Then her eyes landed on Michael.
"Hunter Michael."
He straightened. "Yes, Commander?"
"Your performance was impressive. But you collapsed from Void exhaustion. That's unacceptable."
Michael's jaw tightened. "I won, didn't I?"
"Winning means nothing if you're dead." Commander Adebayo's voice was cold. "Power without control is just another way to lose."
Silence.
Michael didn't respond. But I could see the anger in his eyes.
"You'll be training with Tom," Commander Adebayo continued. "He'll help you refine your Void Deck. You have potential. Don't waste it."
Michael's fists clenched.
"Yes, Commander."
The dismissal came quickly.
We filed out of the briefing room, exhaustion weighing on all of us. Grace headed straight for her quarters. Mark lingered, her eyes distant. Lyra was silent, lost in thought.
And Michael?
He stormed off.
I found him in the training yard.
He was throwing cards at a training dummy—Attack Cards, Defense Cards, Switch Cards. Each one hit with precision, but there was no control behind them. Just anger.
"You know," I said, leaning against the doorframe, "Commander Adebayo wasn't wrong."
Michael didn't stop. "I don't need a lecture."
"Not a lecture. Just... observation."
He paused, turning to look at me. "Observation?"
"You pushed yourself too hard. That's not weakness. That's just... learning." I shrugged. "Happens to all of us."
Michael stared at me for a long moment.
Then he sighed.
"Fine. Maybe I overdid it."
"Maybe?"
He almost smiled. "Fine. I definitely overdid it."
Tom appeared out of nowhere.
"Yo, peps."
I jumped. "Where did you come from?"
"The shadows. I'm good at that." Tom grinned, his eyes fixed on Michael. "I heard you've got a Void Deck. That's pretty cool."
Michael tensed. "What do you want?"
"To see it. In action." Tom cracked his knuckles. "Fight me."
"Tom—" I started.
"Not you." Tom waved me off. "Him. Michael. Hunter vs. Hunter."
Michael's eyes narrowed. "You're a kid."
"I'm a senior Hunter. And I'm offering to help you train." Tom's grin widened. "Unless you're scared of a kid."
I could see the anger rising in Michael's eyes.
"Fine," he said. "You're on."
The fight didn't last long.
Michael threw an Attack Card—Tom dodged. A Defense Card—Tom shattered it. A Switch Card—Tom was already behind him.
It was over in seconds.
Michael was on the ground, gasping, his cards scattered around him.
"You're too predictable," Tom said. "Your Void Deck is powerful. But you rely on the same patterns. You need to be more creative."
Michael glared up at him. "I didn't ask for your help."
"Too bad. You're getting it." Tom held out a hand. "Now get up. We're going again."
Michael hesitated.
Then, slowly, he took Tom's hand.
Lyra slipped away while no one was watching.
The Order's archives were deep beneath the headquarters—a labyrinth of ancient texts, data crystals, and sealed records. She'd only been here once before, and that was years ago.
But she needed answers.
About Dangi.
About what Theo had told her.
The archives were quiet. Dusty. The air smelled of old paper and forgotten secrets. Lyra walked through the stacks, her eyes scanning the shelves.
Where would they keep records about Dangi?
She searched for what felt like hours.
Then she found it.
A small, locked drawer in a forgotten corner. The label was faded, almost illegible:
DANGI: CLASSIFICATION SEALED
Lyra stared at it.
Sealed? Why would the Order seal records about Dangi?
She tried to open the drawer. Locked. She tried to force it. Nothing.
Then she noticed something—a data crystal tucked into a gap behind the drawer. She pulled it out, her heart racing.
It was old. Cracked. But still intact.
She inserted it into a nearby reader.
Fragments appeared on the screen:
DANGI: MANIFESTATION OF HUNTER SOUL
CLASSIFICATION: RESTRICTED
KNOWN ASSOCIATIONS: [REDACTED]
NOTABLE CASES: [REDACTED]
Lyra scrolled through the fragments. Most of it was redacted. But at the bottom, she found an image.
A Hunter, old and weathered, standing beside a strange creature. It looked like a wolf, but its body was made of shadows and light, its eyes glowing with an inner fire.
Lyra stared at the image.
That's a Dangi.
She tried to access more information.
ACCESS DENIED.
She tried again.
ACCESS DENIED.
Lyra leaned back, her mind racing.
Why would the Order hide this? Why would they keep Hunters from knowing about Dangi?
She didn't have an answer.
But she was going to find one.
Eren was walking back to his quarters when he felt it.
His palm itched.
He looked down. The eye was open—wide open, its red iris darting back and forth.
"Hey," he said quietly. "What's wrong?"
The Voice didn't answer.
"Hello?"
Still nothing.
Eren felt a chill run down his spine. The Voice was always talking. Always commenting. Always there.
But now?
Silence.
"Hey," he said again, his voice sharper. "What's going on?"
The Voice finally spoke.
"Something is watching us."
Eren froze. He looked around the hallway. Empty. Just the flickering lights and the hum of the building's systems.
"What do you mean?"
"Something. Watching."
"Where?"
The eye's iris shifted, pointing toward the end of the hallway.
Eren's heart pounded. He took a step forward. Then another.
Nothing.
"Just kidding."
Eren blinked. "What?"
The Voice laughed.
"Just kidding, Eren. Your face was hilarious."
Eren felt his anger spike. "You—you asshole! I thought we were in danger!"
"We are always in danger. That's life." The Voice chuckled. "But I needed to make sure you were paying attention."
"You're insufferable."
"And yet, you keep me around."
Eren shook his head, muttering under his breath. "I hate you."
"No, you don't."
"I really, really do."
"Liar."
Mark stood in the middle of her quarters, her eyes closed.
Her Lurker abilities were active—her senses stretched out, reaching through the walls, through the floors, through the building itself. She could feel the presence of everyone in headquarters. The steady rhythm of their heartbeats. The warmth of their bodies.
She'd been doing this for hours, ever since they'd returned from the twin Rift battle. Something had been nagging at her. A feeling that something was off.
At first, she'd dismissed it. Just exhaustion. Just paranoia.
But now?
Now she was certain.
"There's someone here."
She opened her eyes.
The room was empty. But she could feel it—a presence she didn't recognize. A signature that didn't belong to anyone on the team.
Mark reached for her staff.
"Who's there?"
No response.
She turned, scanning the room. Nothing.
Then she felt it again. A flicker. A shadow at the edge of her perception.
She ran out of the room.
The hallway was empty.
Mark stood in the corridor, her staff raised, her eyes scanning for any sign of the intruder.
Nothing.
But I felt something. I'm sure of it.
She reached out with her Lurker senses, trying to pinpoint the presence.
It was gone.
Just... gone.
Mark lowered her staff, her heart racing.
What was that?
She didn't have an answer.
But she knew one thing for certain:
Something was happening in Abuja. And it was only going to get worse.
End of Chapter