2024-12-23 17:39:48If there's anything more terrifying than a crime, it's the West Line.
That sentence was always drilled into the heads of every law enforcement officer and government official.
So, it was clear—Samuel’s request to go to West Line was the most insane idea they had ever heard.
"I’m sure you’re fully aware of how West Line operates, Mr. Hayes, and it’s not a good idea!"
Joey clenched his fists, his expression filled with unease. He ruffled his hair in frustration.
"The largest supplier of every kind of drug is there! It’s the hub!"
"And that’s not even mentioning the weapons assembly distributed on a massive scale, or the human trafficking! Oh, my God!"
Douglaz, who had been sitting silently with his head bowed, took a deep breath. He looked up, raising one hand.
"Permission to add, Chief—one of my friends died when he entered West Line."
"His body was never found. All that was sent to his house was a small box."
"That box contained... his finger bone."
Joey slammed the table, shouting, "It’s just a fucking thumb, Mr. Hayes!"
Samuel remained unshaken, his gaze deep and resolute.
"I’ll make it work, don’t worry."
"My goal is just to make my presence known."
"Or would you rather I stay here and play along with their game?"
A dilemma indeed.
Following Madaline’s demands was not an option Joey was willing to entertain.
But allowing Samuel to go to the most dangerous place wasn’t wise either.
"J&S wouldn’t last long without you. It may affect the city! Everything that’s happened is under your control!"
Samuel stood firm, shaking his head slightly—a clear answer to the plea.
He had always believed in not sharing his plans until they were successful.
The name West Line had long been embedded in his mind.
It was on his list of crucial sites.
Beneath the desolate and dangerous West Line lay abundant resources; lithium, cobalt, and copper—three vital elements buried in the land.
Arthur had a great ambition to conquer it—a perfect move to turn the tables.
"You only need to do one thing: issue a special statement about me now."
"Say that I’m uncontrollable, that I’ve yelled, raged, attacked—whatever you like!"
"Describe how you’ve taken strict actions, and finally, I’ve been exiled to the most terrifying isolation cell in this city, Chief Joey Gunther."
Samuel raised his eyebrows, his eyes sparkling.
Silence fell.
Joey felt helpless. He couldn’t force Samuel to reveal anything about his plan.
"Alright, I guess everything’s clear. I have to leave now!" Samuel declared.
Joey swallowed hard, bowing his head slightly before replying,
“Wait! Mr. Hayes. At least let me I prepare a special vehicle to take you!"
He signaled Douglaz and the two younger officers to approach, handing them his car keys.
"Take my car home and exchange it for another one. Just tell the guards there—it’s ‘The 12.’"
"Y—Yes, Chief!"
Joey then turned his gaze back to Samuel.
It weighed heavily on his heart to let his lifesaver venture into such a terrifying place.
Joey extended his hand toward Samuel. "Call me whenever you need, Mr. Hayes."
Samuel didn’t say a word. He simply smiled.
As Samuel’s steps brought him closer to the vehicle, Joey felt a weight lift from his chest.
"My task now is just to find out who’s behind all this. It must be Arthur Brooks," Joey murmured.
“Good luck, Samuel Hayes.”
--
9 AM
“So, for the time being, Mr. Hayes is forced to—”
“Hey, you, turn up the radio!”
Madaline kicked the back of the driver's seat as the radio broadcast about Samuel caught her attention.
A sly grin spread across her face as she reached for her phone and dialed Arthur.
“Hello, Dad, have you heard the news yet?”
“Yes, I’m quite concerned. But people who belong below will always return to where they came from, right?”
“Sure, Daddy, life always serves justice. By the way, I arrived at the airport now..”
Madaline took out her lipstick and reapplied it while glancing outside.
“Great, give him a warm welcome. I’ll be holding a press conference about Samuel’s arrest.”
“He’s moody, so make sure to keep him in a good mood, Madaline.”
“Oh, that’s easy. Leave it to me!”
She hung up and stepped out of the car, dressed to the nines. A tight red dress, perfectly styled hair, and an intoxicating fragrance surrounded her.
She walked briskly toward the VVIP area, where Gideon’s private jet had landed.
“Ah, Gideon!”
Madaline raised her hand toward a man with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes.
“Madaline, you’re as stunning as the last time I saw you five years ago.”
Gideon kissed her. To the Hawthorne heir, Madaline was nothing more than a tool. The J&S fortune, now valued at $15 trillion, made Gideon impatient to lead the company.
Madaline had no idea.
Looking at Gideon, who exuded wealth from head to toe, she felt only relief.
Relief that she had left that useless loser behind!
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
619
At first, they thought it was just an echo.A flicker on the surveillance net. A brief distortion near the old Echo Chamber beneath Bastion’s west wing — long abandoned, used only during the early calibration of shard synchronization. The space had since fallen into disuse. No power, no systems, no reason to return.Until now.“Tell me you’re seeing this,” Sarah muttered, leaning over the monitor.The image was faint: a silhouette pacing slowly inside the chamber, pacing in exact steps Sarah had once taken.“Looks like you,” Joey said, frowning.“That’s because it is me,” she whispered.“But that can’t be—”Samuel entered behind them, already reaching for his personal interface. “Pull the prism scanner. I want a temporal signature.”Sarah tapped in the override.A moment later, the analysis came through.Thread anomaly: 94% match.Anchor origin: Flame Net timeline [Locked: UNKNOWN]Subject: SARAH, VARIANT 3B - INVERTED FLAME“Jesus,” Joey breathed. “It’s a version of you. From another
618
Not the kind that followed battle. Not the heavy kind that came after decisions like the one they'd made — to delay sealing the world, to buy time they didn’t understand.This silence had shape.It bent.It listened.It waited.And then, without warning, it spoke.Joey was in the lower observatory, seated by the paneled dome where the artificial stars had begun to glitch. Every few minutes, a light would flicker and repeat itself — blinking patterns out of sync with the constellations.He was alone.Or he thought he was.“Still think we made the right call?” he muttered aloud, fingers tracing the rim of his cooling tea.No answer.He reached for his comm-link, considered calling Lin, then Sarah… but didn’t. The others were all in their corners, dealing with the consequences in their own ways. Samuel had retreated to the eastern wing, no doubt reviewing models and constructing fallback rituals. Sarah had been pacing the upper deck like a hawk for the past hour. Lin was—nowhere. She dri
617
The Bastion’s war table hadn’t been used in months.Dust lined its edges. Old energy signatures flickered faintly along its curved interface, echoing long-erased battle maps. It was built to track enemies—Void incursion zones, Ashborn troop lines, shard anomalies.Tonight, it displayed Earth itself.Not the Earth they remembered.Not the Earth they had fought for.The globe was fraying. Threadlines glowed red across the surface—unraveling. Symbols blinked where entire cities once stood. Others spun erratically, overlapping. Multiple realities clashing for space, like two ghosts trying to possess the same body.Joey stared in silence.Lin sat with a heavy shawl around her shoulders, pale but awake.Sarah stood stiffly across from Samuel, arms folded.Nobody had spoken in five minutes.Until Joey said softly, “We’re already losing it.”Samuel said nothing.Sarah’s voice came next, hard-edged: “Not yet.”Joey turned to her. “What would you call what just happened? We opened a hole in the
616
No one touched the relic at first.It hovered midair in the center of Bastion’s Deep Chamber — spinning, slow, silent, and not entirely present. Shaped like an orb, but its edges shimmered and warped, refusing to settle into a single dimension. Every time someone looked too long, they saw something different: a beating heart, a writhing knot, a tiny flame.Samuel stood closest, arms folded, the memory of Kael’s echo still fresh in his mind.Sarah and Joey flanked him. Lin hadn’t woken yet — her mind was still torn open from the Spiral’s flood.“Where did it come from again?” Joey asked, voice barely above a whisper.“Kael gave it to me,” Sarah said, hand tight around her shard. “Or what’s left of him. He called it a key. Something older than the Net.”Joey eyed the orb. “It doesn’t look like any relic I’ve seen. Doesn’t feel like one, either.”“It’s not a relic,” Samuel muttered.Sarah turned to him. “Then what is it?”“It’s a hole.”They didn’t believe him at first. Not until the orb
615
The corridor was silent, save for the soft pulse of the emergency lights. Sarah moved carefully, her fingers trailing the wall, her shard still flickering from the chaos at the ridge. She wasn’t sure why she’d come down here — the lower levels of the Bastion were sealed, memory-locked since the first Wave.But the shard pulled her. Not through flame. Through grief.Room B-17. Her mother’s old chamber.Except it wasn’t.The moment she stepped inside, the light shifted. Everything became thinner, quieter — like sound had been tucked under glass. Dust didn’t settle here. No time passed.And in the center of the room stood Kael.Her breath caught.He wore the old uniform — burnt red sash, blade across his back. He looked… unchanged. His expression unreadable, his hair slightly windblown as if he’d just returned from patrol.“Kael?” she whispered.He didn’t answer.But he smiled.“I watched you climb the cliff once,” he said. His voice was softer than she remembered. “You were thirteen. Th
614
Flames crawled along the blackened hillsides like serpents starving for breath. The sky above the Eastern Ridge had begun to turn the color of bruised plum, a prelude to something no one wanted to name. Ashborn forces, once so unified, so terrifyingly synchronized, now moved with jagged rhythm, like puppets on strings too tight or too frayed.Samuel stood at the ridge's edge, panting, one hand gripping the hilt of his flame-blade. Around him, the remaining Guardians kept their weapons drawn but hesitated to attack. Not because the Ashborn had stopped advancing, but because they were... speaking.Not shouting. Not chanting.Whispering.He couldn’t understand the words, not fully. The tones were warped, soaked in static, like memories being replayed through a broken machine. But the cadence was unmistakable.Voices from the Void.One Ashborn, eyes glowing with leaking violet light, fell to its knees. Another followed. Then three more. Their mouths moved, and Samuel heard it more clearly
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