The war room of RedFlame Guild headquarters occupied the entire top floor of what had once been Bristol's premier luxury hotel. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Valen's skyline, though heavy curtains currently blocked the afternoon sun. The space had been gutted and rebuilt—plush carpets replaced with reinforced concrete, decorative walls torn down to create one massive chamber, and every surface inscribed with flame-resistant runes that glowed faintly in the dim light.
At the center of the room stood a massive table carved from blackened stone, its surface covered with maps, intelligence reports, and tactical projections. Around it sat twelve figures, each radiating the controlled power that marked them as S-rank awakened.
At the head of the table sat Inferno.
He looked younger than his thirty-five years, his features sharp and aristocratic. His hair was deep crimson—not dyed, but naturally changed by his SSS-rank class—and his eyes held an inner fire that made direct eye contact uncomfortable for anyone below S-rank. He wore simple black combat attire, but the air around him shimmered with heat, creating distortions that made his exact position hard to pin down.
"Report," he said quietly, and despite the conversational volume, his voice carried absolute authority.
The woman to his right stood—Lieutenant Scarlet, his second-in-command and an S-rank Infernal Knight. She was tall, muscular, with burn scars covering half her face that she wore like badges of honor.
"Our intelligence network confirms the government's approach to Zenith Guild," she said, activating a holographic display that rose from the table's center. "Grand Master Wei has been in direct communication with President Ashford for the past week. They're negotiating terms for Zenith's integration into official government forces."
Murmurs rippled around the table. One lieutenant—a bald man with tattoos that moved across his skin like living flames—leaned forward. "Terms? Wei would never subordinate himself to anyone."
"He wouldn't," Scarlet agreed. "Which is why the government is offering him something unprecedented—autonomous authority over the Eastern Territories with official military designation. He gets to keep his guild structure, his hierarchy, his traditional methods. In exchange, Zenith becomes the government's enforcement arm for awakened-related matters."
"They're buying him," another lieutenant spat. "Giving him legitimacy he doesn't need."
"They're giving him something more valuable than legitimacy," Inferno corrected, his voice soft but cutting through the room like a blade. "They're giving him a monopoly on legal violence. Every guild operates in gray areas, constrained by laws we choose to ignore. But if Zenith becomes official military? They can act with impunity. Arrest us. Seize our assets. Eliminate competition under the banner of 'maintaining order.'"
The implications settled over the room like a heavy blanket.
"And Sun Guild?" asked a woman with silver hair that crackled with suppressed flame. "Dawn's been quiet."
Scarlet brought up a second display. "Sun Guild is more cautious. They're considering the government's offer but haven't committed. Our sources suggest Dawn wants guarantees about female awakened rights and protection protocols. She's not interested in becoming a weapon—she wants to be a shield."
"Noble," Inferno said, and there might have been genuine respect in his tone. "Impractical, but noble. What about the others?"
"Blackhole Guild has rejected all government contact," Scarlet continued. "The Void won't even respond to their messages. And Viper Guild..." She paused. "Crimson Fang is playing both sides. Taking government money while positioning himself as anti-establishment. He's building a power base among awakened who resent authority."
"Smart," Inferno acknowledged. "Corrupt, opportunistic, but smart."
The bald lieutenant spoke up again. "Boss, if Zenith and Sun both join the government, that's twenty-two thousand awakened under unified command. Seventy-five S-ranks. Even split among five regions, those numbers—"
"Are irrelevant," Inferno interrupted. "You're thinking in terms of conventional warfare. Troop numbers, territorial control, sustained campaigns." His eyes swept the table. "Tell me, how many S-ranks does it take to defeat an SSS-rank?"
Silence.
"The answer depends on the SSS-rank in question," Inferno continued. "Grand Master Wei? Probably thirty S-ranks working in perfect coordination. Dawn? Perhaps twenty-five, given her Valkyrie abilities. The Void? Fifty, minimum—his gravity manipulation is almost impossible to counter." He leaned forward. "Me? They'd need a hundred. Maybe more."
It wasn't arrogance. Everyone in the room knew it was simple fact. Inferno's Blazing Magus class operated on a scale that made conventional combat calculations meaningless. He could level city blocks with a gesture, create firestorms that burned for days, and his personal shields could withstand direct artillery fire.
"The government thinks they can control this new world through numbers and organization," Inferno said. "They're wrong. The apocalypse the Administrator warned about won't care about political structures or military hierarchies. It'll care about raw power and the will to use it."
"Then what's our move?" Scarlet asked. "We can't just let them consolidate power."
"We don't need to stop them," Inferno replied. "We need to make them irrelevant." He stood, walking to the window and pulling back the curtains. Afternoon sunlight flooded the room, and for a moment his silhouette seemed to burn with internal fire.
"The government wants legitimacy. They want to maintain the illusion of control, to convince people that the old systems still matter." He turned back to face his lieutenants. "We're going to shatter that illusion."
"How?" the silver-haired woman asked.
"We demonstrate power. Real power. The kind that makes political maneuvering look like children playing at war." Inferno's smile was predatory. "Tonight, the government is moving a convoy through Valen—supplies, equipment, and personnel being relocated to their new 'awakened response facilities.' The convoy has military escort, awakened guards, the full protection the state can provide."
Understanding dawned across the room.
"We're going to stop it," Scarlet said. "Not destroy it—just stop it. Show that we can reach anything they try to protect."
"Precisely. No casualties if avoidable—we're making a point, not starting a war. But that convoy doesn't reach its destination. Every vehicle, every guard, every piece of equipment is left untouched but immobile. And we leave a message: 'Your systems cannot contain what's coming.'"
"The government will retaliate," one lieutenant warned.
"Let them try," Inferno replied. "Every response they make will prove our point. They're fighting the last war, trying to maintain control through institutions that are already obsolete. We're preparing for what comes next."
---
Three hundred miles north, in the mountain fortress that served as Zenith Guild headquarters, Grand Master Wei knelt in his meditation chamber.
The room was sparse—bare stone walls, a single mat on the floor, incense burning in the corner. Wei himself was in his seventies, his body still powerful despite his age, every movement controlled and precise. His weathered face showed no emotion as he processed the decision before him.
A knock at the door.
"Enter," Wei said without opening his eyes.
A young man stepped inside, bowing deeply. "Master, the government representative has arrived. She awaits your response."
Wei opened his eyes and stood in one fluid motion. "Tell her I will meet her in the main hall. And summon the Council of Elders."
Twenty minutes later, Wei sat on a simple wooden chair at the head of a long table. Around him sat fifteen elderly martial artists, each one a master of their discipline, each one having earned their position through decades of dedication. And across from them sat Victoria Cross, President Ashford's personal representative and one of the few S-rank awakened in government service.
"Grand Master Wei," Victoria began, her voice respectful but firm. "Thank you for receiving me. I trust you've considered our proposal?"
"I have considered it," Wei replied. "And I find it... acceptable, with modifications."
Victoria's eyebrow rose slightly. "Modifications?"
"Your government wishes to employ Zenith Guild as an enforcement arm. You offer us autonomy, resources, and legal authority in exchange for our service." Wei's hands remained folded calmly on the table. "But you have not addressed the fundamental issue—who commands in crisis situations?"
"The President, through military chain of command—"
"No." Wei's interruption was soft but absolute. "In matters of awakened combat, I command. My disciples command. The traditional hierarchy of Zenith Guild supersedes all government authority when engaging with awakened threats."
"That's asking for complete autonomy," Victoria protested.
"It is asking for competence to lead," Wei corrected. "Your government has existed for how long? Centuries? And in that time, you have developed systems for managing conventional military forces. Effective systems, tested by experience." He gestured to the Council of Elders. "My guild has existed for less than a week in this new form. But our lineage extends back a thousand years. We have spent lifetimes mastering the discipline required for supernatural combat."
He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Representative Cross, when an SSS-rank awakened decides to level a city, will your chain of command save lives? Or will the martial artist who has spent fifty years mastering ki control and combat tactics?"
Victoria was silent for a long moment. Finally, she spoke. "I can't approve this modification. It would require presidential authorization."
"Then seek it," Wei said simply. "Because those are my terms. Zenith Guild will serve, but we will not be commanded by those who do not understand what they command. Give us autonomy in awakened operations, and we will be your strongest defenders. Refuse, and we will remain independent—neutral, but not hostile."
Victoria stood, bowing respectfully. "I will convey your terms to the President. Expect a response within twenty-four hours."
After she left, one of the Elders spoke up. "Master, you drive a hard bargain. They may refuse."
"Then they refuse," Wei replied calmly. "But they will not. They are desperate, and desperation makes one accept terms they would otherwise reject." He paused. "Besides, what I ask for is not unreasonable. It is simply honest. I will not pretend to subordinate myself when both parties know the reality of power."
---
In the Northern Territories, Dawn stood on a balcony overlooking Sun Guild's main compound. Below, thousands of awakened women trained, meditated, and prepared for the challenges ahead. The compound had been a university campus before the awakening—now it served as a sanctuary and training ground for female awakened who sought protection from the chaos consuming the rest of Bristol.
She was tall and commanding, her armor gleaming silver even in the dim evening light. Her SSS-rank Valkyrie class gave her an otherworldly beauty—perfect features, radiant presence, wings of pure light that manifested during combat. But her eyes held a weariness that came from seeing too much suffering in too short a time.
"Commander?" A woman approached the balcony—Captain Maya, one of Dawn's S-rank lieutenants. "The government representative is requesting an audience."
"Again?" Dawn sighed. "This is the fifth envoy they've sent."
"They're persistent. And this one brings a personal message from President Ashford."
Dawn turned from the balcony. "Very well. Bring her to my office."
Ten minutes later, she sat across from a government official who looked exhausted and desperate in equal measure.
"Commander Dawn," the woman began. "I am Ambassador Chen, special envoy from President Ashford. She has asked me to convey her personal guarantee regarding the protections you've requested."
Dawn listened as the ambassador outlined improved proposals—dedicated safe houses for female awakened, legal reforms addressing harassment and assault, funding for training programs, guaranteed representation in government decision-making.
"These are improvements," Dawn acknowledged. "But they don't address the fundamental problem."
"Which is?"
"You're asking me to make Sun Guild subordinate to a government that has failed to protect women for centuries," Dawn said bluntly. "The old systems allowed systematic abuse, discrimination, and violence. And now, with awakening, those problems have been amplified—powerful men using their new abilities to terrorize, to control, to hurt."
She stood, walking to a window. "I formed Sun Guild because I watched three women die in the first week after awakening. Not to monsters. To other awakened. Men who decided their power meant they could take whatever they wanted."
"And we want to prevent exactly that—"
"Then give me authority," Dawn interrupted. "Not cooperation. Not partnership. Authority. Let Sun Guild be the enforcement body for all crimes involving awakened violence against women. Let me build a justice system that actually protects victims instead of protecting perpetrators."
Ambassador Chen looked troubled. "That would require... significant legal restructuring."
"It would require admitting your current systems are inadequate," Dawn corrected. "And being willing to try something new." She turned to face the ambassador directly. "I'm not interested in being another cog in a broken machine. Either you give me the power to actually make a difference, or Sun Guild remains independent and I protect women my own way."
"I'll convey your terms," the ambassador said carefully. "But I should warn you—if you remain independent while RedFlame and the others grow more aggressive, you'll be caught in the crossfire."
"I'm already in the crossfire," Dawn replied. "The difference is, I'm choosing my battles instead of letting someone else choose them for me."
---
In the Western Territories, in a facility that had once been a maximum-security prison, Crimson Fang of Viper Guild sat in what had been the warden's office.
He was impossibly beautiful—a side effect of his SSS-rank Vampyros class. Pale skin that seemed to glow faintly, crimson eyes that held hypnotic depth, features that could have been carved by a master sculptor. But there was something predatory in his stillness, the way he watched his visitors with the patience of a hunter who knew his prey couldn't escape.
Before him stood three men—government officials trying very hard not to show fear.
"Gentlemen," Crimson Fang said, his voice smooth as silk. "You've come to make me an offer. How delightful."
The lead official cleared his throat. "Mr... Crimson Fang. We represent—"
"I know who you represent," Crimson Fang interrupted gently. "And I know what you want. You've made similar offers to Zenith and Sun. You want to buy my guild, give us legitimacy in exchange for obedience." His smile revealed teeth that were just slightly too sharp. "The question is, what makes you think I'm interested?"
"We can offer protection," the official began. "Resources, legal immunity—"
"I already have those things," Crimson Fang said. "My power is my protection. My guild members are my resources. And as for legal immunity..." He gestured around the repurposed prison. "I'm sitting in a building that used to hold criminals. Now I hold government contracts for awakened detention. Funny how things change."
"Then what do you want?" another official asked, frustration creeping into his voice.
Crimson Fang's smile widened. "Information. Access. Influence." He leaned forward. "You see, gentlemen, while my fellow SSS-ranks are playing at being warlords or saviors, I'm interested in something more sustainable. I want to build systems. Networks. I want to know everything that happens in this new world, to every awakened, in every territory."
"That's... that's asking for surveillance authority," the first official said slowly.
"Is it?" Crimson Fang stood, walking around his desk. "Or am I offering to help you maintain order? Think about it—you're terrified of the major guilds, and rightly so. But small groups, individual awakened, unaffiliated dangerous people? Those are the ones who'll hurt you the most. I can track them. Monitor them. Provide intelligence your own agencies can't match."
He paused beside the officials, and they unconsciously stepped back.
"In exchange, I want access to government databases. Intelligence networks. Communications systems. I want to know what you know, when you know it." His eyes gleamed. "And occasionally, I want you to look the other way when my guild conducts certain... operations."
"You're asking us to make you untouchable," the second official said.
"I'm offering to make myself useful," Crimson Fang corrected. "The government is going to deal with Zenith or Sun or both. You'll have enforcement capability soon. What you don't have is intelligence capability for the awakened population. I'm offering to be your eyes and ears."
The officials exchanged glances. Finally, the leader spoke. "We'll need to take this to the President. This kind of arrangement—"
"—is exactly what you need to survive what's coming," Crimson Fang finished. "Take your time. Discuss it with your superiors. But don't take too long. My patience, like my offers, has limits."
After they left, one of Crimson Fang's lieutenants emerged from a side door.
"You're playing both sides, lord. Dangerous game."
"All games are dangerous," Crimson Fang replied. "The trick is being dangerous enough that both sides want you on their team." He returned to his seat. "Let RedFlame flex their muscles and make enemies. Let Zenith and Sun tie themselves to a sinking ship. Viper Guild will be the one that survives because we'll be too valuable to eliminate and too distributed to target."
"And if the apocalypse really comes? If the Administrator wasn't exaggerating?"
Crimson Fang's smile faded slightly. "Then we'll have so much information, so many connections, so many people indebted to us that we'll be the only ones who can coordinate a real response. The government will need us. The guilds will need us. Even the monsters will fear us, because we'll know their weaknesses before they know they have them."
---
Night had fallen over Valen when the convoy began its journey. Twelve trucks, each carrying supplies and equipment for the government's new awakened response facilities. Military vehicles with armed guards. Three A-rank awakened serving as mobile protection.
The convoy moved through the city's outskirts, following carefully planned routes that avoided populated areas. Everything was proceeding normally until they reached the industrial district.
Then the night caught fire.
Not explosions—something worse. Pillars of flame erupted from the road ahead, from the buildings on either side, from the sky itself. The fires didn't spread or consume. They simply existed, creating a cage of burning light that brought the convoy to a halt.
From the flames stepped twelve figures, each wreathed in fire that didn't burn them. RedFlame Guild's S-rank lieutenants.
And behind them, walking casually through inferno that would have vaporized normal humans, came Inferno himself.
"Good evening," he said pleasantly to the lead military vehicle. His voice carried despite the roar of flames. "I'm afraid I'll have to interrupt your delivery."
The awakened guards moved forward, weapons ready. The strongest—an A-rank Earth Manipulator—tried to create stone barriers, but the heat was so intense that the rock cracked and melted before it could fully form.
"Stand down," Inferno said, and it was a suggestion that carried the weight of command. "This isn't a fight. It's a demonstration."
One of the guards, either brave or foolish, activated his ability—a water-based attack that should have doused flames. The water evaporated instantly, turning to steam that screamed through the air.
"I said," Inferno repeated, and this time his voice carried heat that made their armor too hot to wear, "stand down."
The guards collapsed, not injured but overwhelmed by the sheer temperature. The military personnel evacuated their vehicles, retreating to safe distance while Inferno's lieutenants systematically disabled every truck, every weapon, every piece of equipment. Not destroyed—just made inoperable. Melted electronics, warped metal, systems fried by precisely controlled heat.
It took less than five minutes.
When it was done, Inferno stood in the center of the convoy, surrounded by disabled vehicles and terrified personnel. He raised one hand, and the flames condensed into a single point above him—a miniature sun that illuminated the entire district.
"This message is for the government," he said, and his voice was being recorded by every camera, every phone, every witness in range. "You cannot protect what you claim to control. Your convoys can be stopped. Your facilities can be reached. Your authority exists only as long as we allow it to exist."
The miniature sun pulsed brighter.
"We are not criminals to be managed or soldiers to be commanded. We are the future. And the sooner you accept that your old systems are dead, the sooner we can focus on what actually matters—surviving what's coming."
He released the miniature sun, and it dissolved harmlessly into the night sky. The fires surrounding the convoy extinguished simultaneously, leaving only darkness and disabled vehicles.
RedFlame Guild vanished as quickly as they'd appeared.
By the time emergency services arrived, all that remained was wreckage, shaken personnel, and a message that would be replayed on every news channel by morning.
---
President Ashford watched the recording for the third time in her secure conference room. Around her sat her emergency council—military leaders, intelligence chiefs, and Master Takeda, whose expression remained serene despite the crisis.
"This is an act of war," one general declared. "We need to respond with force. Show them we won't be intimidated."
"With what force?" another countered. "Every analysis says we'd need at least twenty S-ranks working in perfect coordination to have a chance against Inferno alone. We don't have twenty S-ranks. We barely have five willing to engage in direct combat."
"Then we accelerate recruitment," the first general insisted. "Accept Zenith's terms, whatever they are. Get Sun Guild on board. Build up our awakened forces until—"
"Until what?" Victoria Cross interrupted. "Until we can match RedFlame? That could take years. And every day we spend building up, they grow stronger too."
President Ashford raised a hand, silencing the debate. "Master Takeda, you've been quiet. What's your assessment?"
The old martial artist opened his eyes, considering. "Inferno is correct about one thing—the old systems are insufficient for this new reality. But he's wrong about the solution."
"Explain," the President requested.
"He believes power is the only currency that matters now. That raw strength trumps all other considerations." Takeda's voice was calm, almost contemplative. "But power without purpose is just destruction. Inferno has strength, but no vision beyond survival of the strong. He will attract followers who value the same—and make enemies of everyone else."
"So we oppose him?"
"We transcend him," Takeda corrected. "We build something better. Accept that we cannot control the awakened through force, but we can guide them through wisdom. Partner with guilds like Zenith and Sun who understand that power carries responsibility. Create systems that make cooperation more valuable than conflict."
"That's a long-term strategy," one general objected. "What about now? What about tomorrow when RedFlame strikes again?"
"Tomorrow we show restraint," President Ashford decided. "No retaliation. No escalation. We issue a statement acknowledging the attack and announcing our intention to work with awakened guilds—including offering RedFlame an invitation to negotiations."
"They'll see that as weakness!"
"Let them," the President replied. "Because while they're congratulating themselves on their demonstration of power, we'll be doing exactly what Master Takeda suggested—building alliances, establishing cooperative frameworks, creating a world where awakened want to work with us rather than against us."
She stood, signaling the meeting's end. "Contact Grand Master Wei. Accept his terms with one modification—he gets tactical authority, but we retain strategic oversight. Contact Dawn. Tell her she can have her authority over awakened crimes against women, but she needs to work within our legal framework, not outside it. And send an invitation to Inferno for a face-to-face meeting. Let's see if he's willing to talk when we're not trying to control him."
As the room emptied, Master Takeda remained behind.
"You're gambling," he observed. "This could fail spectacularly."
"Everything is a gamble now," President Ashford replied. "The old certainties are gone. All we can do is make the best choices available and hope we're building something that can survive what's coming."
"The Administrator spoke of an apocalypse," Takeda reminded her. "We've been so focused on controlling the awakened that we've forgotten they're meant to be humanity's defense against something worse."
"Then we'd better hope our guilds are ready when it arrives," the President said grimly. "Because if they're too busy fighting each other to fight the real threat, we're all dead."
---
Inferno stood on the rooftop of RedFlame headquarters, watching dawn break over Valen. Behind him, the city was in chaos—news of the convoy attack had spread, the government was scrambling, other guilds were positioning themselves for the fallout.
His second-in-command joined him. "The government issued a statement. They're inviting you to negotiations."
"Of course they are," Inferno replied. "They have no other choice."
"Will you go?"
"Perhaps. It might be entertaining to hear what they think they can offer me." He paused. "More importantly, it will let me take their measure. See if they're capable of adaptation or if they'll cling to their old ways until everything burns."
"And if they do adapt? If they successfully recruit Zenith and Sun?"
Inferno's smile was cold. "Then the game becomes more interesting. But the fundamental truth remains—when the apocalypse comes, numbers won't matter. Organization won't matter. Only raw power and the will to use it."
He gestured at the city below. "Let them build their alliances. Let them create their frameworks and cooperative systems. When the real threat arrives, they'll discover what I already know."
"Which is?"
"That everything the Administrator warned us about is worse than anyone imagines. That the beta realm is just a training ground for something so terrible that most of humanity won't survive the first day." His eyes reflected the rising sun, burning with inner fire. "And when that day comes, the only thing that will matter is who has enough power to fight back. Everything else—politics, morality, cooperation—will be luxuries we can't afford."
Scarlet was silent for a moment. "You sound almost eager for it."
"Not eager," Inferno corrected. "Ready. There's a difference." He turned from the view. "Convene the lieutenants. We have work to do. If the government is gathering allies, we need to demonstrate why that won't be enough. And I want full intelligence on every independent awakened in Bristol. The unaffiliated, the hesitant, the powerful who haven't chosen sides."
"Recruiting?"
"In a manner of speaking. I want them to understand that when the apocalypse arrives, there will be two groups—those under RedFlame's protection, and those who face it alone." He headed for the stairwell. "Let the government play at diplomacy. We'll be preparing for war."
As he descended, leaving Scarlet alone on the rooftop, she looked out at Valen and wondered which of them was right. Inferno, with his faith in raw power? Or the government, with its belief in systems and cooperation?
She suspected they'd all find out soon enough. The Administrator's warning had been clear—an apocalypse was coming. And when it arrived, every choice they'd made, every alliance formed or rejected, every demonstration of power or restraint, would be tested.
Bristol was fracturing. The guilds were at each other's throats, and the government was desperately trying to maintain control over a situation that had already spiraled beyond their capacity to manage.
And somewhere out there, in the beta realm's dungeons and training grounds, individual awakened were growing stronger. Unknown quantities who hadn't yet revealed themselves. Wild cards who could tip the balance in any direction.
The real question wasn't whether war was coming. It was whether humanity would be too busy fighting itself to survive the real enemy when it finally arrived.