An eerie silence settled amidst the devastated landscape of rubble and blood. Corpses lay waste, scattered on the ground. Wreckage burned asunder as the scent of ash and metal drifted through the air. It was a horrifying nightmare incarnate, akin to hell on earth.
In the midst of the ravaged mercenary camp stood a young man, dressed in black, his head adorned with a fedora. His face was as calm as a motionless lake, unmoving and undaunting. Beside him was a monstrous hound whose tail wagged as if yearning for praise.
"You did well, Hound..." Damien muttered under his breath, complimenting his peculiar yet somehow cute dog. It was the first time he summoned Hellhound, and it was a resounding success. Perhaps speed mattered more than power in this situation.
In any case, the mercenary group was completely annihilated, their corpses littered on the grassy landscape of the park. An unfortunate sight, it was. But there was no regret within his heart.
Just as the mercenaries saw lives as a mere transaction. Damien saw them as nothing more than greedy goblins whose avarice bent their morality. Nonetheless, he didn't curse them for their choices.
He solely made them pay for standing in his way. Nothing more, nothing less. 'I have to become stronger. Things will only get harder for me from now on.'
Damien wasn't ignorant; he understood the implications of CORE moving against him. It seems that Miss Alastair's reputation wasn't enough to completely shield him from adversaries. But it was enough, regardless.
Even some would dare to stand against beings of nigh omnipotence. It was simply the result of humanity's indomitable spirit. Although it was wielded for unpleasant reasons rather than good ones.
'At least, I have managed to acquire a few aetheric weapons for myself. However, I do wonder how to transport it back into the SIGIL Headquarters.' Damien wasn't retrieving it for those politicians.
He wanted these weapons to be utilized by Block 7, or his future juniors. With the backing of both Miss Alastair and Francine, it wasn't impossible.
Taking a phone from the inner pocket of his black suit, he called his gorgeous senior, wanting to request some assistance. Unfortunately, nothing connected from the other side. "Jammed?"
Signal jamming wasn't unheard of within the exclusion zones, but the encrypted frequency of SIGIL shouldn't have been obstructed by the jammers. 'CORE again, huh?'
"No wonder they dared to do this so close to the headquarters of SIGIL. I guess even the federation isn't safe from their grimy hands." He whistled as he acknowledged the intertwining connections of the New World.
It wasn't as simple as black and white.
'More like alternating interests.' Even though he disliked such an intricate part of reality, it was the natural result of consciousness, ideas, cultures, and societies. There will be interests. He didn't consider himself free from analogue.
"Eclipse has taken over a hundred human lives, but it appears that only two-thirds of the evolution bar has been filled. Compared to the dhampir, human life seems to be a smudge. The system acknowledges this."
Damien shook his head and decided to return to the headquarters. He planned to report everything to his senior, including the aetheric weapons. "I don't want to abandon it, but there's not much I can do."
As he was about to leave the devastated mercenary camp, a crushing oppression enveloped the entirety of his body. It was immense, reminding him of the time he first met the seventh Paragon, Miss Alastair.
He turned his sable-tinted gaze towards the origin of the pressure. 'Miss Alastair?' He pondered before shaking his head. Although it was similar, it felt different. Without a doubt, the oppression was weaker than his boss's.
"A Paragon..." Without any hesitation or delay, he sprinted towards one of the remaining encampments. Inside were none other than the hostages, the researchers who were kidnapped by the mercenaries.
All of them were unconscious, perhaps drugged by the mercenaries. Damien glanced at them, shackled to metallic poles, and sighed inside his mind. 'These bastards don't even care for their employees.'
He realized why his senior had been worried about the commission. The corporations in the New World were backed by CORE. Laws couldn't restrict them; the government was reliant on the continued existence of society.
Perhaps, the only ones that could stand against CORE were SIGIL. Even then, it wasn't perfect as its higher echelons were riddled with bureaucrats. Some of which could be in the payroll of these corporations.
"The Paragon is heading towards me. I need to complete the primary mission beforehand and get ready." Unfortunately for him, Fractured Blink wasn't at its highest level. It was a teleportation skill with some complexities.
It couldn't transfer him with others and vice versa. Not wanting to abandon his first primary mission, Damen decided to teleport the researchers out of the exclusion zone and receive his rewards.
"Eclipse, get them out of the area. I want them transported to the Brooklyn Bastion Bridge." As he commanded his first summoned monster, the air above the shackled researchers cracked.
It shattered into pieces while a black hand descended from it and engulfed the unconscious hostages. A black mist flooded the tent, prompting Damien to cover his face with his arm.
'So this is how others see me when I use Raptured Blink. Not bad.' He nodded in satisfaction as the black mist added some wow factor to the teleportation. It was interesting to the eyes, to say the least.
At any rate, his perception shifted as a notification window materialized before him. It gleamed with a bluish hue, displaying recently received notifications. The primary mission was finally completed.
| Congratulations, Oberon! You have successfully completed your first primary mission! |
| You have been rewarded 1,000 Terror Points! |
Damien observed the notifications and felt pleased. He could barely control himself from spending his newly acquired wealth. Fortunately, his mental endurance wasn't to be underestimated.
'I would have withdrawn, but this could be an opportunity.' While he was a cautious and logical young man, a fierce competitive spirit was shackled within his heart. There were times when men couldn't retreat.
And to be honest, this was his time to stand his ground.
Stepping out of the tent, he turned his head towards the northern direction and remarked with a smile. "You must be the sixth Paragon, the chief of Block 6. No wonder you radiate a strong sense of oppression."
In the distance was an old man attired in a black suit. Strands of his silver-aging hair swayed with the calm and eerie breeze while a sheathed blade hung beside him. Damien felt as though he was gazing upon a monster.
'This old man isn't even bothering to control himself.' Unlike Miss Alastair, whose oppression felt refined and arrogant, the old man shed savagery and stubbornness. "But compared to my boss, you seem lacking."
Hearing the words of the Aberrant in front of him, the old man merely sneered and responded with a cold voice. "Your courage and foolishness are to be respected, Aberrant. But for the sake of the world..."
"I shall eliminate you from this plane. You are too dangerous to be left alive, roaming this soft and delicate reality." The old man unsheathed his blade, its metallic surface ringing with ravaging glee.