I frowned at the ground.
"Great," I muttered in my head. "Someone wants me dead for a reason even I don't know."
Sending rookies this time…
low-profile, cheap, won't make noise if they disappear.
Fits her style. Or maybe someone copying it.
I exhaled slowly through my nose.
Great.
Just great.
First day as a guide recruit and she's already throwing bodies at me again.
I kept walking like everything was normal.
Lin Xue was ahead.
Liu Cheng eating again.
Zhao Rui being… Zhao Rui.
None of them knew what was going on in my head.
But me?
Yeah.
I knew exactly what this felt like.
Same crap, different place.
Same sister still trying to get rid of me.
And if she was already moving pieces this early…
…yeah. I'd better speed up too.
[ POV Change (Third Person Perspective)]
The chamber was located deep underground, far below the frozen mountain outside.
The place was buried under layers of ice and stone.
It was deep like the bottom of an ocean where sunlight never reaches.
Only a few people in the whole country knew this underground path existed.
Inside the facility, there was a huge room, the walls made of thick iron instead of brick.
A large round table was placed in the center of the room.
Twelve chairs were arranged around it, each one spaced apart so they didn't crowd each other.
The whole room wasn't bright.
The corners just shrouded in darkness, like that spot under an oil lamp the light never reaches.
Only the round table had any light on it, while every seat stayed hidden in the dark.
In front of the table, a huge screen glowed faintly — the only thing stopping the place from looking like an empty cave.
Twelve heavy iron doors were built into the walls, sliding from both sides when they opened.
Then the door opened.
Seat of Winter.
The person who walked in was Winter. She held the Seat of Winter.
She wore a white mask, and through the eye holes you could see nothing but cold, empty eyes.
A thin frost gathered around her as she stepped forward, the air cooling around her like early morning snow.
She reached her chair and sat without speaking.
The second door opened.
Seat of Judgement.
The next one was the Seat of Judgment.
He wore a dark robe and a metal mask with a single straight line running down the middle.
You couldn't see his face at all, only that line.
He walked to his seat and sat down, slow and steady.
His robe dropped over the chair without a sound.
He placed both hands on the table and didn't move.
Another door opened.
Seat of Forge.
He stepped in with heavy, steady footsteps.
His shoulders were broad, and his arms were wrapped in bands of cooled metal, dark and rough.
He reached his seat, pulled the chair back with one hand, and sat.
A few faint embers slipped from under his mask when he exhaled, dropping to the floor and dying out instantly.
Next—
Seat of Bloom.
A thin figure walked in, mask shaped like a flower with too many petals.
Where their feet touched the floor, small white roots appeared for a moment before fading away as if they'd never been there.
She reached their seat quietly and sat without a sound.
Seat of Fang.
A tall figure stepped inside, their mask shaped like a pair of jaws frozen mid-bite.
He moved with a steady heaviness, each step landing firm, controlled, almost predatory.
When he sat, their posture stayed straight and alert, like a hunting animal rests without ever letting its guard drop.
Seat of Gloom.
The next person walked in quietly.
He was thin, dressed in black from head to toe, with a plain dark mask covering his face.
His steps made no sound at all.
Like someone who had spent years learning how to slip through places without anyone noticing.
He reached his chair and sat down.
No motion out of place.
Seat of Blood.
He walked in — slim, quiet, wearing a mask marked with red lines running across it.
The lines glowed faintly, like the way real veins look when you shine a light under skin.
His clothes were the same shade of crimson, and through the eye holes of the mask, his eyes had that same dull red color.
His hair was long, straight and over his shoulders. He took his seat without saying anything.
Seat of Crown.
The tallest figure entered. A simple golden crown rested on his head — no jewels, no designs, just a plain band that looked out of place in a room like this.
His mask was smooth and polished, almost like a blank mirror where you couldn't see anything clearly.
He wore a long black coat, straight and it look and feel heavy coat.
He reached his seat, pulled the chair back just a little, and sat down without a sound or a word.
Seat of Ember.
He walked in with a steady pace, heat rolling off him in waves you could actually see in the air.
His clothes were marked with faint flame patterns along the sleeves and chest, like someone had painted fire on fabric and let it dry there.
His hair was long and red, the same shade as the mask covering his face.
He pulled out his chair and sat down without a word and when he glanced toward the table, his eyes behind the mask looked just as red as the rest of him.
Seat of Void.
No footsteps came from the hallway this time. One moment the chair was empty, and the next he was already sitting in it, as if he'd been there the whole time.
No sound, no shift in the air, nothing to warn anyone he'd arrived. The mask he wore was plain dark violet, no markings, no shine, nothing to catch the light. Nobody reacted or looked surprised. They were used to him showing up like that.
Seat of Storm.
She walked in with the sound of thunder. Her hair was long and silver, falling behind her like smooth threads of metal. Little sparks of static clung to the ends, snapping softly before fading.
She wore a silver mask shaped in smooth curves, just clean lines. Her clothes were simple — a fitted silver top and black pants.
A faint crackle of thunder trailed behind her at first, almost like leftover static from her bloodline, but the moment she sat down, even that sound disappeared. Everything around her went still.
Finally—
Seat of Iron.
He walked in wearing full heavy armor, every step making that dull clink you hear when metal pieces scrape together.
His boots hit the floor with a solid thud.
His mask was made of iron too — looked like two halves hammered separately and then bolted together in the middle. No decoration, no polish, just raw metal.
He reached his seat and sat down without adjusting anything.
All twelve seats were finally filled. Twelve people, each wearing a mask, each carrying the weight of a title no one outside this room even knew existed.
Together they formed the Crownless Twelve, the group that controlled the world from the shadows.
There were no official records about these twelve. No files, no lists, nothing. The public didn't even know they existed.
Only a few people high up the chain knew their names, and even they only knew because they had to follow their orders.
That was the only reason the CrownLess Twelve were known at all — the ones above had to listen, and the ones below didn't even have the right to ask.