CHAPTER 1469: THE EXTRACTION PLAN

Lydia was half–shoved onto the bus with the rest of the healers. The others clambered in with chatter and laughter, their voices bubbling with the careless delight of people who thought they were off to some grand excursion.

She, however, struggled to keep her expression steady. A tightness gripped her chest, and her hands curled against her skirt, but fortunately, none of them seemed to notice her tense face amidst their own giddy noise.

Inside, she slid into a seat by the window, letting the cheerful crowd wash past her. The bus jolted forward, wheels crunching gravel, and the setting sun cast long fingers of gold across the horizon. Lydia pressed her temple against the cool glass, her gaze fixed outside.

She searched the dimming scenery, shadows stretching over fields and the silhouettes of trees whipping by. She told herself she wouldn’t see anyone, not really. Whoever might be following her, if anyone truly was, would never reveal themselves.

They would be hidden, cloaked in anonymity, trailing from afar. Still, her eyes combed the shifting landscape, desperate for a glimpse of a shadow that might belong to someone watching over her.

Her friends, laughing only a row behind, leaned across seats, pointing out shapes in the clouds like children. None of them noticed how tightly Lydia’s fingers gripped her own skirt, or how she kept holding her breath as though expecting danger to leap out at any moment.

Meanwhile, Owen and Daniel pushed their mountain bikes hard across uneven terrain, weaving through steep and narrow paths. Their breaths came heavy, but their eyes never once strayed from the convoy of buses ahead.

The chains creaked, the tires ground over loose gravel, but they maintained their distance, close enough to track, far enough not to be noticed.

Elsewhere, Jay’s gaze was locked on the tablet in his hands, connected to an orbital surveillance feed. A red dot pulsed faintly on the map, the location of the bus carrying Lydia and the other healers. His brows furrowed.

The convoy had taken a strange route, a solitary winding road that narrowed with every mile covered with thick mist. Darkness swallowed the path; no streetlights lit the way, only the piercing beams of the convoy’s headlights cutting through the night.

Inside the bus, Amy and several fellow healers had already drifted into quiet slumber. Their breathing was steady, serene. But for Lydia, the silence was suffocating.

Her heart pounded against her ribs, fists clenched in her lap as her eyes scanned the darkness beyond the glass. Every bend in the road heightened her dread, as if the bus was being drawn deeper into a trap unseen.

Then, the comms crackled to life.

"Sir, I’m detecting a Veilward, two hundred meters ahead. It’s masking something we cannot penetrate." The Noxcra agent’s voice was sharp, urgent.

Jay straightened instantly, the cabin tense as everyone overheard the report. He narrowed his eyes at the flickering dot on the digital map.

"Can you trace the source?" he demanded.

"We’re working on it, Sir," the agent replied.

Jay exhaled sharply. "Make it fast. If we can’t breach it, we’ll have to stop that bus before it crosses the barrier. Owen, Daniel—are you in position?"

"Yes, Sir," the two young men answered in unison, their voices firm over comms.

Jay’s eyes darted back to the tablet. The red dot blinked steadily against the dark terrain, a fragile signal at risk of vanishing the moment the bus entered the unknown.

"Sir, someone is coming," he said in a low voice.

"Can you identify who it is?" Jay asked.

It took a while before someone behind the comm answered again

"It’s a Luxemborough soldier, he turns off the Veilward."

"Oh, what I coincidence," Jay chuckled.

Once the Veilward was deactivated, the curtain of pale mist that had obscured the way dissolved like smoke in the wind. The apparent dead-end, dense with gnarled trees and impenetrable undergrowth, faded away, revealing a hidden path stretching deeper into the forest.

Moments later, the bus and its convoy rumbled forward, headlights cutting into the newly revealed road. The man who had dismantled the spell device raised his hand, guiding the vehicles in with a faint, unsettling smile. His expression carried both relief and cruelty, as though savoring the sight of the bus full of oblivious healers.

But before he could rearm the Veilward, an arm hooked tightly around his neck from behind. A blade flashed in the dimness. With a swift slash, his throat opened, blood spilling hot and fast across his chest. His eyes went wide, filled with shock and confusion, but he had no time to understand. His body sagged lifelessly.

A Noxcra agent in a black uniform let the corpse fall, then dragged it wordlessly into the undergrowth, concealing it beneath thick bushes. Without pause, Owen and Daniel pedaled through the path, their bikes rattling over the uneven ground.

Not long after, a jeep carrying Garrof, Lloyd, Jack, and Madeline followed, its headlights bouncing over the hidden trail.

The scenery shifted almost abruptly. The forest gave way to an ancient ruin swallowed by time. Towering arches and half-shattered pillars rose like skeletal remains, strangled in roots and heavy vines.

Moss carpeted every stone, while weather-worn statues—figures once regal, now faceless, stood in broken silence, their features eroded but their stance still noble, as if guarding secrets long forgotten.

Lydia, staring out from the bus window, could only clutch the seat in wonder and dread. She had no idea where they were, only that the place felt very ancient, very abandoned...very secluded.

The bus rolled onto a vast expanse of cracked stone flooring, stretching like an ancient courtyard. At its far end, a staircase rose toward a looming archway.

The gate was forged of blackened metal, massive and oppressive, its surface etched with intricate engravings: towering trees with dense, interwoven leaves forming an iron canopy that seemed to ripple faintly in the dim light.

The convoy slowed, the grinding of tires echoing off broken stone until the bus halted. Silence pressed down, thick and suffocating. The ruins seemed alive, watching. For the first time in a long while, dread crept into the healers’ chests.

A senior healer clapped her hands. "Okay, everyone, let’s get out now."

The young healers shifted uneasily. Even dulled by drugs, their instincts screamed danger. Their faces had drained of color, hesitation chaining them in their seats.

"Lady Anne, where... are we?" one of them asked timidly.

"This," Lady Anne said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, "This is the sacred place. Here, you will receive the Saintess’s blessing; you should feel lucky to be here."

The answer did nothing to ease them. Their hands twitched, their gazes darting from one another in growing unease.

"Enough. Everyone out!" another senior barked, her voice edged with irritation.

Her uncharacteristic harshness startled them cause they had never been treated so harshly by their seniors, who were always kind and gentle toward them; why had they changed so suddenly?

Amy’s hand reached for Lydia’s, and she gripped her hand desperately. Her lips trembled as she whispered, "Jasmine... I’m scared."

Lydia squeezed back, whispering, "It’s fine—we’ll be fine." But her icy hands betrayed her words.

"GET OUT NOW!" the senior bellowed again, then turned to the driver. "Open the door—"

’Thfft.’

A soft, sharp crack cut through the air. The senior body became stiff, as a dart hit right between her eyebrows. Soon after, he collapsed in the aisle.

Lady Anne gasped. "What are you do—"

’Thfft.’

A second dart punched into her throat, and she collapsed sideways. The remaining seniors barely had time to gasp before more darts found their mark, soft, stifled thuds as they sank into flesh. One by one, they toppled, slumping into the aisle or sagging lifelessly against their seats.

The young healers instantly screamed in utter panic, and soon, the bus erupted in chaos. The driver who just shot the senior healers raised his gun to the air and then shouted, "SHUT UP!"

His voice boomed through the shrieks. The command froze them, terror choking the sound in their throats.

Seeing everyone was obedient, he let out a wolfish smile and then took off his driver’s hat. "That’s better. I’m not killing your friends, just knocked them out. So sit your asses back down and hold on to something, we came to save you." He winked playfully to lighten the mood, but he failed, though.

Only one person was happy to see him, "Gavin!" Lydia’s voice cracked with joy. Because if Gavin is here, then everyone must be here as well. They were saved!"

He looked back, grin widening. "Hi, Lydy~." He gave her a casual wave as if they’d met on a street corner, not in a blood-stained bus.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The door rattled violently as fists pounded against it from the outside. A Dragxtarn’s furious voice shouted, "Hey! What’s taking so long? Open the damn door!"

Gavin raised his voice, sharp and urgent. "Everyone—sit down, now!" He pointed to the seats with quick gestures. As the healers obidiently scrambled back, he vaulted into the driver’s seat.

Outside, the banging grew louder, angrier. Then, suddenly, a sound of a gun came and rained down on them. The Dragxtarn outside cursed. "We’re under attack!"

"Here they come," Gavin hissed, twisting the key. The engine roared alive. He slammed the wheel hard, the bus jerking violently into motion.

The healers screamed as the bus make a sharp U-turn. Gavin barked over the noise, "I told you all—hold on to something! You girls never listen, aren’t you!" Gavin scolded.