The conference room at MHO headquarters in Washington D.C. was alive with tension. The usual hum of computers and soft chatter had vanished, replaced by a deafening silence. Every chair was filled with the highest-ranking generals, S-Rank Hunters, and High Council members. Only the sound of fingers tapping consoles punctuated the air. “Sir, the energy readings…” one of the satellite technicians began, voice trembling. He didn’t finish the sentence. The main screen flickered violently, then stabilized to show a view of deep space. What should have been a distant speck was instead a swirling distortion, impossibly vast, and radiating a raw, alien power. General Novan, normally the calmest man in the room, swallowed hard. “What… what is that? That level… it’s off the charts. We’ve never seen anything like this.” General Chen, head of the MHO’s Gate Research Division, tapped rapidly on her console. “The energy spike is… expanding. It’s not coming toward Earth—it’s already here in some

Chapter 162 The world didn’t explode. It folded. Reality bent inward as mana pressure collapsed space, the ground screaming as if the planet itself had inhaled too sharply. The moment Hal’s boots scraped broken asphalt, the battlefield tore itself apart. Vesper moved first. Wind didn’t gather. It appeared—razor-thin crescents slicing the air with shrill screams. Buildings were carved open like paper models, windows detonating into glittering clouds. “Scatter!” Hal barked. Too late. One blade skimmed past Sir Jack’s shoulder, shredding steel and flesh alike. Blood sprayed—but Jack didn’t fall. He rolled, gritted teeth, suit systems screaming warnings as he forced himself upright. The whispers came instantly. You are slow. You will die first. You always were the weakest. Sir Jack staggered. Haley reacted on instinct. Light burst from her core—not blinding, not radiant, but clean. A pulse of pure luminosity slammed outward, erasing the nearest echo-wraiths mid-formation.

Hal broke the sound barrier in less than a second.Kansas City vanished beneath him in a blur of fire and shattered air as his Celestial armor flared, stabilizers screaming against atmospheric resistance. The world watched.Every surviving MHO satellite locked onto his ascent. Emergency broadcasts, some sanctioned, most hijacked, lit up shattered cities and underground shelters alike. Soldiers, Hunters, civilians, and children huddled around cracked screens and flickering projections.A single figure rose, not in a jet.Not in a shuttle.But alone.“He’s leaving the atmosphere!”Static tore through the audio as Hal punched through cloud layers, pressure crushing inward before evaporating entirely. The sky darkened from blue to violet, then to black.Sound died, and fire peeled away from his armor in ribbons as the last vestiges of Earth’s gravity released him.And suddenly.... Silence.Earth curved beneath him, vast and fragile, glowing like a jewel suspended in nothingness. Storm s

The first blow never landed. Krygios’ weapon carved through space itself, a crescent of annihilation sweeping toward Hal with enough force to shatter moons. The void screamed as the strike passed, then stopped. Not blocked. Not deflected. It simply… failed to arrive. The space between Krygios and Hal folded inward, distance stretching like molten glass. The blade passed where Hal had been, even though he hadn’t moved. Hal floated there, suspended against the black canvas of space, Celestial armor gleaming faintly like a newborn star. Krygios’ burning eyes narrowed. “…Interesting.” He twisted midair and struck again, faster, harder. The weapon roared, shadows clinging to its edge like starving beasts. Again, the strike slowed. Again, it never reached its target. Hal exhaled softly. Reality bent. Not violently. Not loudly. It simply obeyed. Krygios felt it then. The subtle wrongness. Momentum is bleeding away. Vectors misaligning. The universe is refusing to coop

Hal descended through the atmosphere like a comet of blue and gold, Celestial armor blazing against the blackened sky. The clouds split as he passed, lightning dancing from the friction of his speed, the wind screaming in every direction. A news helicopter caught him on its cameras. The anchor’s voice trembled as it broadcast live to the world: “Ladies and gentlemen… what you are witnessing is… unprecedented… Hal Astravor, descending from the heavens…” Every city paused. Every screen, every radio, every device tuned in. Cheers erupted, shouts of hope spilling across streets filled with smoke and ruin. People cried, waved, and knelt, staring skyward. Below, the world’s most formidable generals waited on the ground, eyes wide, mouths slightly open. Phil Cobblestone, Liu Chen, Hanson Matsumoto, Karl Novan, and Alexandr Dragunov had faced countless threats—but never had the sky itself opened to reveal something so overwhelmingly real. Hal touched down with a soft thud. Dust and rubbl