They were still catching up when a cold, irritated voice cut through the reunion.

“We’re on a mission, not a field trip. Save the nostalgia for later.”

The mood dropped instantly.

Axel turned toward the voice and saw a familiar face—a man about Vince’s age, sharp-featured, with an unmistakable air of arrogance. He stood with his arms folded, watching them with a faint frown.

“Dale,” Vince said, tone polite but cool. “Sorry for the delay. Let’s get started.”

Axel recognized him now. When they’d handled the spy case in Northern Spiritual Town, Dale had been the one sent from headquarters to retrieve him. A mid-level Level Five Lightning Awakener—strong, proud, and, apparently, already leading his own team.

Dale didn’t bother with small talk. He strode to the tactical board and gestured for silence.

“Our target is Valerie,” he said. “According to intel from the Wandering Fellowship, she’s a top-tier Level Five illusionist.”

He tapped the screen, where a woman’s profile photo appeared—dark hair, pale skin, eyes half-lidded in a knowing smile.

“With this much manpower,” Dale continued, “we’re going for overwhelming force. Strategy’s simple: hit her head-on and don’t stop until she’s down.”

When he finished, the four operatives standing behind him nodded. One of them, a heavily made-up woman in her thirties wearing a tight combat jacket and too much perfume, stepped forward.

“No problem,” she said, grinning. “Let’s open the Prisoner Sky Curtain and move in.”

A few of the Havoc Division men snickered quietly. Vince’s expression tightened.

Now he understood the tension between the groups. Dale wasn’t taking the mission nearly seriously enough.

Axel frowned slightly. Prisoner Sky Curtain?

“Wait.”

Vince’s voice cut through the room—calm but sharp enough to slice through Dale’s momentum. He didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“If this were just an ordinary high-grade Level Five, your approach might work,” he said evenly. “But we’re dealing with Valerie. We need to slow down and come up with a smarter plan.”

Dale shot him a sideways glance, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. The woman beside him—heavy makeup, blood-red lipstick, eyes full of disdain—snorted.

“You’re joking, right? With this many of us, you’re still scared of one woman?” she sneered. “What kind of commander are you supposed to be?”

Vince didn’t rise to the bait. His calm only made her angrier. But before he could speak, Rosaline slammed a hand on the table and stood up, her voice slicing through the air like ice.

“What’s your name?” she snapped. “Watch your damn mouth. If you don’t know when to shut up, then get out.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. The woman’s face went pale as she instinctively sensed Rosaline’s Force aura flaring—dense, lethal, and suffocating. She opened her mouth to fire back, but Dale raised a hand.

“Mackenzie. Sit down,” he said flatly. “Let’s hear him out first.”

She glared at Rosaline but sat, still fuming.

Vince exhaled softly and continued, unbothered. “Valerie isn’t like other top-tier Level Fives. She’s an illusionist. If she even suspects we’re near, she’ll vanish. Her method of killing is through dreams—dragging her victims into them. At her level, she could pull in two Level Fives and several Level Fours at once. If we charge in blind, she’ll take us apart one by one.”

The room fell quiet for a beat. Dale’s expression tightened, though he tried to hide it.

“Mr. Vince,” he said slowly, “aren’t you giving her a little too much credit?”

“Not nearly enough,” Vince replied. “Caution saves lives. Until we locate Valerie, I recommend both teams check in every thirty minutes—verbal or signal confirmation. That way, if anyone falls into a dream state, we’ll notice immediately. And if she isn’t found by nightfall, no one sleeps at the same time. We’ll stagger rest cycles. Otherwise, she could pull half the camp into her illusion at once.”

The Embercrag team exchanged glances, clearly impatient. Mackenzie muttered under her breath, “If you’re that scared, then let us take point.”

Her tone was softer this time, but the arrogance was still there. Vince caught Rosaline’s eye; both sighed inwardly.

Social Awakeners…

The Embercrag crew had spent years in city, enjoying prestige more than combat. Most of them had never faced a truly lethal mission. With their high-level ranks, they’d grown complacent—entitled even.

“Since we can’t seem to agree,” Mackenzie said, standing with a proud smile, “let’s talk strength instead.”

Her Force flared outward—brilliant and aggressive, filling the air with pressure. A solid Level Five.

Dale rose beside her, his aura crackling faintly with arcs of lightning. “Mr. Vince, fear comes from a lack of firepower,” he said coolly. “You might not realize just how powerful Embercrag is. Trust me—you’re worrying for nothing.”

At his cue, the rest of his squad followed suit. Four waves of Force power rippled through the briefing room, shaking the air like heat distortion.

“Four Level Fives…” someone from the Havoc Division murmured, eyes widening.

“Finnegan,” said Gideon, arms crossed, “are all the Whisper Syndicate teams this strong now?”

Finnegan, the local branch head, frowned deeply. “They’re an expansion team—powerful enough to qualify for elite status, yes. But… I think Mr. Vince has a point.”

He’d supported Embercrag earlier, assuming they were the more capable group. But watching how casually they flaunted their power now, Finnegan wasn’t so sure anymore.

Sean, standing off to the side, looked uneasy. “Mr. Finnegan, what should we do?”

“For now?” Finnegan muttered. “We watch.”

Rosaline let out a quiet, contemptuous laugh. They were all pushing thirty and still showing off like academy kids.

Flaring your Force in public was the mark of an amateur. But if they wanted a display, Vince wasn’t going to hide.

“This is a serious operation,” he said quietly. “Since Mr. Dale insists on comparing strength—let’s not keep him waiting.”

With a subtle nod from Vince, he and Rosaline released their Force simultaneously.

The air boomed.

Their combined auras hit the room like a shockwave, heavy and suffocating. Both were long-time Level Fives—but after the Kensington Dragon Pond, their power had become denser, sharper, and unmistakably superior to Dale’s.

Mackenzie’s smirk faltered. She hadn’t expected two of them to outclass her captain.

Then, another presence surged forward—Millers. His Force roared to life, raw and explosive.

“Three Level Fives?” Dale’s pupils contracted. He remembered the man—barely a Level Four back in Northern Spiritual Town.

Around the table, the Havoc Division leaders exchanged stunned looks.

“Gideon,” Finnegan muttered, “Obsidian isn’t just some field unit.”

Gideon’s eyes narrowed. “No…..”

Then his gaze flicked toward the quiet man sitting near the edge of the room—Charles, as calm and unassuming as ever.

“Wait a second,” Gideon said, his expression shifting. “That’s…”

Even without releasing it, he could feel it—the dormant storm of Force radiating from Charles’s body, compressed so tightly it made his skin crawl.

Then, a new pressure rolled through the room—heavier, deeper, impossible to mistake.

Every Awakened present felt it. The air thickened, almost humming.

“Holy shit—” someone whispered. “Deep Awakening. That’s… that’s a Level Five Supreme Awakener?!”

Mackenzie’s painted eyes went wide. “You’re kidding. You have a Level Five Supreme in your team?!”

The entire Embercrag squad froze. The tension in the room hung heavy, and for the first time, Dale’s arrogance faltered. In sheer numbers, both sides were even—four Level Fives apiece.

The standoff dragged until Gideon finally broke the silence. “Everyone,” he said firmly, standing up, “there’s no need to posture. It’s clear Obsidian has the advantage in strength. And I agree with Mr. Vince—their strategy makes sense. The Havoc Division will follow their lead on this operation.”

The Obsidian team exchanged quick, surprised glances. None of them expected Gideon, who had left on bad terms with them over the Axel–Maxen incident, to take their side.

“I agree,” Finnegan added, giving a small nod of support.

Across the table, Dale and Mackenzie’s faces darkened. They were cornered now. The weight of both Obsidian’s power and the Havoc Division’s endorsement left them no choice but to comply.