Chapter 81
Shocking truth (2)
Hise ran his hand slowly through his long raven-black hair, his fingers weaving.
He opened his mouth. through the strands with casual grace, almost mockery. The silence hung like fog—heavy, suffocating. Every second he paused felt like a dagger twisting deeper into IAM's already broken chest.
Then, with a breath, Hise broke it.
"This whole operation," Hise began, voice low and laden with meaning, "began long before you were even born." He slipped his fingers behind his back, gaze drifting.
His voice carried the weight of years. There was a strange gleam in his eyes—a distant nostalgia, as though he were reminiscing about an old friend rather than unveiling betrayal.
"We infiltrated quietly," he said. "Patiently. We climbed into positions of power, embedded ourselves deep within their systems… so deep, in fact, that most believed we had always been part of it. That was the key—convincing everyone we belonged."
His lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes still lost in memory.
"I spent years grinding my way up to where I stand. Decades. Our organization worked in the shadows, always watching, always waiting. And when we had secured enough influence—when we had just enough hands in the right places—the operation began."
IAM's blood was ice.
He didn't interrupt. Couldn't. Every word Hise spoke was another puzzle piece falling into place, and IAM was powerless to look away.
He gestured subtly toward the orb still perched like a glowing god in the ruined dome.
"We staged a discovery," Hise continued gesturing casually toward the glowing monstrosity at the heart of the dome. The Divine Orb. "We claimed to have found lost technology buried deep in the Deadlines. Something powerful. Unexplored. Dangerous. We proposed it be brought back to the Hold, placed at the highest level for study and protection. Of course, our engineers—our people—were the ones assigned to research it."
He looked toward the orb, admiration gleaming in his gaze like a child regarding a father.
"And no one questioned it."
A pause.
He turned back to IAM, and the air felt colder somehow.
"We began by pushing this war behind the scenes, manipulating reasons why the war was necessary. Once that began, my role was now ready to be completed."
IAM's heart pounded. His vision blurred with tears. His pulse rattled in his throat.
Hise's tone shifted again. More businesslike. "Now we need to set path formations in the hold to destroy their structures and restrict their path methods... But how could we do it? It takes a long time to form a path formation and with the amount of formations needed to be made and the complexity… It would be very difficult to achieve."
A sharp twinge scratched the back of IAM's skull. Something clawed at his thoughts. A faint itch of realization. Something he hadn't let himself think about before. A fragment of memory scratched insistently in the back of his mind.
Hise continued, unblinking. "Quite a lot of specific paths would be needed. How could we possibly bring them in without arousing suspicion?"
The question hung in the air. IAM's throat contracted. And then he spoke—quietly, strained, the truth on his tongue.
"Volunteers... Those who volunteered who came from different backgrounds... The only time people who had not been in the military for a long time could enter the army unsuspected. With your position overseeing the process it was simple. As long as there no was incriminating record on the person—and even if there was... MOST came from the slums, petty crimes or strange movements. People seemingly appearing out of thin air is the norm."
Horror mounting in his chest.
His vision flickered. He remembered them now.
The nameless faction. The misfits. The ones who didn't fit into any single unit. The ones who came from the slums. Petty criminals. Orphans. Outcasts. People the Hold never batted an eye at.
They weren't questioned.
Memory flooded him in flashes.|
A familiar voice. Footsteps echoing.
"…you wanna check out the east side today? Tomorrow we can hit up the north. Maybe we co—"
But they vanished before he could catch even the rest.|
IAM gasped, stomach dropping.
He looked down at the ground, bile rising in his throat. The awful suspicion—the one he'd buried in the corner of his mind—was no longer a suspicion.
It was truth.
He whispered, shaking: "The volunteers that seemed to be unruly and was called an unnamed faction were actually all moles who were tasked to forming the path formations... Usually actions such as exploring restricted areas would be more severely punished. But with your role you let them do as they pleased with the excuse of them being a bunch of uneducated misfits that were simply curious.... You ignored it."
"You let them wander freely, ignored every report—dismissed it as curiosity. They weren't disobedient. They were following orders."
Hise raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Your critical thinking is actually not too bad. But do you seriously think a bunch of novices' formations would be enough to gain the effect it did?... They were simply there to tie up the repetitive and easy parts of the formation."
IAM's head bobbed in horror, brain spinning.
Hise's voice turned colder. "To do it perfectly, we would need a lot of experienced and master level ascenders... And I'm sure you will recognize a few of them."
He swept an arm toward the hooded figures. Slowly, deliberately, they pulled their hoods back.
IAM stared in breathless shock.
Jason. Loria. Riley. Bell Jones. Hen.
He sees some of the masters that had helped rescued him from the deadline... Some were missing.... presumably dead.
IAM's world trembled.
IAM's vision blurred with tears.
From behind Hise, another figure stepped forward—Milo.
His calm, disciplined demeanor was gone.
His face was twisted in madness. His eyes wide and gleaming with insanity.
"Why waste time with this kid?" he snarled. "Let's kill him. Let me kill him. Let's gorge out his guts and see what pretty color they are—"
He sounded unhinged. Raw. Dangerous.
But Hise's voice cut across it like ice.
"Control yourself. And do not speak."
Milo's face contorted in fury before he obeyed.
Milo reeled back, silenced—but his presence lingered like poison.
But IAM wasn't watching him anymore.
He was vomiting.
He couldn't stop.
Blood and bile poured out of his mouth as his body convulsed.
Tears ran down his cheeks as the contents of his stomach hit the floor.
He felt sick. Hollow. Numb.
It was all a lie.
Hen was not the mole.
He was A mole.
Tears and blood pooled in the dirt beneath him. He saw nothing beyond the horror. Nothing but truth laid bare before him.
Hise continued, ignoring the sounds of IAM retching.
"For years we built the formations," he said coolly. "The volunteers helped, as did our hidden allies."
"In every single tent there was at least one mole, so we could monitor everyone. Once our volunteers were done, they would mingle to keep watch and avoid suspicion."
Hise smiled, cold and satisfied.
"Now came the critical part of the operation. We had to ensure everyone was gathered in the Hold on the critical day of the attack—to leave no witnesses to complicate us. But everything had to be done naturally… We were still outnumbered."
IAM shaking, couldn't stop the tremor in his voice. "So… what did you do?"
Hise's eyes gleamed in the gloom. "We staged the devil incident. Dragged a devil into a cave. Baited devilborns. And among those groups… were three with no moles. Including yours."
IAM blinked, swallowing hard. He looked like he might collapse.
"You were all meant to die," Hise said. "We had trackers in your hoodies. After your group was slaughtered, we would recall everyone under the pretense of a threat. But…"
A choking silence.
They prepared for what came next.
Hise's words even stopped IAM's convulsions. "But then… you lived. You survived. A bug. A mistake."
IAM's head dropped.
"So we had no choice," Hise said, his voice hardening, "but to directly deal with the problem."
He paced slowly, the sound of his boots echoing like war drums in the silence.
"When I suggested the lockdown, it was accepted—temporarily. Just a few days. Enough to give the illusion of caution. Enough to keep up appearances."
His tone dripped with contempt.
"But after we swept the ten-mile radius surrounding the Hold and found nothing suspicious—no trace of interference, no signs of danger—we couldn't justify keeping everyone grounded any longer. The masters were already growing restless. Any longer, and questions would've started crawling out of the cracks."
His lip curled with disgust.
"We had to let everyone out again. Back on their missions. Back into the field."
He turned toward IAM now, eyes narrowing. His voice dropped into something cold. Personal.
"So we waited."
He took another step forward.
"Waited until every last scouting mission was completed. Until every last soul had returned to the Hold. Until the pieces were finally, perfectly, back in place."
He inhaled slowly, then exhaled with quiet fury.
"And that's when we'd strike."
A pause.
"You," he said, voice tightening, "you were the anomaly."
IAM didn't move.
"You... a bug... delayed an operation that had been meticulously planned—refined, adjusted, sharpened—for decades. Before you were even born."
His jaw clenched. His voice deepened.
"Sure. In the grand scheme, you meant nothing. A grain of sand in a desert of precision. But still…"
He leaned down slightly, his stare sharpened like a blade.
"How could such an insignificant piece of the puzzle fail the entire sequence?"
A beat passed.
"You were supposed to die that day."
He whispered: "Why... why mine?"
IAM stared into the void.
"Why…" he croaked, barely audible. "Why my team?"
"No reason," Hise said simply. "You were just… unlucky."
Unbearable. Empty.
"Why do all this?" IAM asked, voice stripped of strength.
"Life force," Hise answered simply. "Ascenders' life force is far stronger than normal people."
IAM swallowed.
"You need it for what?" he rasped.
Hise's tone closed like a trap. "Our goal is not something a bug needs to know."
IAM was shaking.
"What's your name? Your group?"
"Our organisation is called the Circle of the Divine."
IAM's mind reeled.
"What about Claw?"
Hise nodded. "Handled. Our comrades did the same to them as the hold."
IAM lowered his head. He said nothing.
Tears burned his eyes. Everything had been a lie.
He whispered barely audibly: "What will you do to me?"
Hise exhaled: "I will kill you." He said it with terrifying simplicity. No roar. No flourish. Just cold inevitability.
He motioned for the hooded guards to stand down. Freed.
IAM stood—numb—spotting the blood mixture on the floor.
"You've delayed my thirty-year plan."
He beckoned IAM forward.
"Come. Have your final moment. You've earned it."
IAM felt something ignite in him. Rage. Despair. A desperate final act.
Hise stepped back.
"I am actually… slightly annoyed," he said, brushing dust from his robe, "that someone like you managed to delay my thirty-year plan. You—of all people. A child. A fluke."
His voice was calm, but something dark simmered beneath the surface. His eyes gleamed with restrained wrath, a god disappointed with his creation.
IAM staggered to his feet slowly, painfully. Every part of him screamed. His right arm dangled limply, shattered beyond use. Blood ran down his temple, soaked through his hoodie, pooled at his feet. His body was a ruin.
But his eyes…
His eyes still empty.
He said nothing. No dramatic speech. No threats. No curses.
He just stared.
Hise opened his arms slightly, inviting.
"Come," he whispered. "I'm sure you have a great deal of grievance. Let it out."
And IAM did.
He roared.
It wasn't human—it was primal, torn from the depths of despair.
He drained all of his mana—everything—into that one step forward.
And then another.
And another.
He sprinted—not with grace or speed, but with rage. With desperation. His broken arm flapped uselessly at his side, bones grinding inside the flesh.
His vision blurred from pain.
From hate.
He didn't even care if he lived anymore.
He just wanted to hurt him. Just once.
He opened his mouth.
[DIE]
Mana surged through his shattered body.
But it was not enough .
Not even close.
The backlash hit instantly—violently.
But he didn't stop.
He charged forward, blinded by hatred.
Closer.
A bolt of pain exploded in his chest, his body convulsing mid-charge. Blood sprayed from his mouth as his body twisted unnaturally in the air.
He didn't even see the strike.
One moment, he was charging Hise…
The next, he was flying backwards.
Launched.
His body smashed against the ground, flipping violently before sliding to a stop.
Every limb was shattered.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't even feel his body anymore.
He could only see.
He saw the feet approach.
Slow. Measured.
Elegant.
The black boots stopped inches from his face.
Hise had moved without sound, without warning.
IAM didn't even know how he'd done it.
All he knew was that he had failed.
He was dying.
And Hise hadn't even tried.
IAM's lips trembled.
But instead of screaming…
He laughed.
A quiet chuckle at first.
Then it grew.
It became something horrible. Something animalistic. Something… wrong.
It echoed across the silent battlefield, dark and cold and blood-curdling.
He laughed as the blood filled his throat.
Because what else was left?
He was going to die.
There was no more fight. No more revenge.
Just death.
Just failure.
Hise crouched slowly beside him.
And then grabbed IAM by the neck—one hand.
He lifted him off the ground like a piece of meat.
IAM's legs dangled uselessly.
His spine screamed in pain.
His air was cut off completely. The grip was absolute—like steel wrapped in death.
IAM could hear nothing but the pounding of his own heart.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Hise stared up at him.
Cold.
Expressionless.
"A bug like you," he said, "was never meant to be alive anyway."
IAM's body spasmed.
His vision flickered black.
"Just because you had a few little achievements," Hise sneered, "you thought you could attack me?"
IAM's throat was collapsing.
He couldn't speak.
He couldn't breathe.
Hise's grip tightened.
IAM's neck began to fold in on itself—vertebrae popping like distant firecrackers.
"Listen to me, IAM…" Hise said, voice dropping low.
His next words etched themselves into IAM's dying soul.
"YOU. ARE. NOTHING."
His lips curled.
"And that is all you will ever be."
"Now... PERISH."
Then—
Crack.
With one brutal, final twist—
Hise snapped IAM's neck.
The sound was grotesque.
His body fell limp.
Completely, instantly.
Lifeless.
The last of IAM's breath left him in a quiet exhale, like a whisper lost to the wind.
Hise grunted slightly and threw the body aside as if it were trash, letting it crash against the rubble with a heavy, wet thud.
He stared at it for a moment.
Unblinking.
Then slowly turned.
He raised his hood over his head again, his voice rising one last time:
"It's time to leave. Let the world remember the name…"
He walked toward the others, their hoods already raised.
"The Circle of the Divine."
One by one, the cloaked figures vanished into the shadows.
Their footsteps faded into silence.
Time passed.
The air stood still.
And IAM…
Was dead.