The atmosphere in Klaus's private quarters was sterile, smelling of cold ozone and high-grade floor wax. The moment the heavy reinforced door hissed shut, the mask of the stoic security chief cracked.
Klaus stumbled into the bathroom, his large frame nearly colliding with the marble vanity. He gripped the edges of the sink so hard the stone groaned under the pressure. His chest heaved, but the air felt like liquid lead—heavy, suffocating, and impossible to pull into his lungs.
He looked into the mirror. His own reflection felt like a stranger's.
Behind his eyes, a dull, rhythmic throbbing began—the sound of a file being deleted in slow motion. When he had scanned the MACE profiles earlier, his system had flagged the faces of the infiltrators. Sonia,Yunli, and, Vincent.
"I know them," Klaus wheezed, splashing freezing water onto his face. "I know the way the guy moves. I know the frequency of the girl's vibe."
But every time he tried to reach for a specific memory—a shared meal, a training session, a laugh—it felt like grabbing a handful of dry sand. The details were squashed, mushed into a gray, unrecognizable blur. A fierce, instinctive hatred surged through him, a rejection of their presence, and beneath that hate was a terrifying emptiness.
He was furious at himself. When they were at the gate, when the portal was tearing open, he had held his fire for a fraction of a second. His finger had locked. His brain had sent the command to kill, but his body had momentarily revolted, paralyzed by a ghost of a feeling he couldn't name.
"What do they have to do with me?" he growled at the mirror, his fist shattering the glass. Blood bloomed across his knuckles ignorant, he didn't feel the pain. He only felt the suffocating weight of a life he couldn't remember.
The MACE Safehouse —Secure Channel
Miles away, beneath the shadow of a crumbling cathedral, the remaining members of the team huddled around a flickering holographic terminal. Yunlin lay unconscious on a nearby cot, his breathing stabilized but heavy.
She also had a severe nose bleed as a result from the stasis effect.
Sonia adjusted the dial on a specialized, deep-frequency communication system. The screen flickered to life, revealing the sharp, regal silhouette of Athalia.
"Any updates," Athalia commanded. Her voice was a calm anchor in their chaos.
"The mission is compromised, Lady Athalia," Sonia said, her voice trembling with a mix of exhaustion and grief. "We encountered Klaus. And... he didn't recognize us. Or rather, he recognized us as enemies, but the person we knew is gone. His memory has been messed with. It's not just brainwashing; it's a total rewrite."
"And the Divisions?" Athalia asked.
Yunli stepped into the light with swollen eyes, her red hair matted with sweat and dust. "We were wrong" she said weakly. "We thought the four divisions were the primary merchandise and estimated that the man behind AXILE, Ian was selling the serum and the rifles. But those were just... appetizers. Prototypes to show off his engineering."
Athalia's expression shifted, a rare shadow of concern crossing her features. "Is that all?."
"Ian mentioned a 'Fifth Division' and a 'Primary Lot,'" Yunli continued. "But the data we intercepted from the internal server suggests something far worse. The real merchandise isn't a machine or a chemical."
"It's a biological artifact," Athalia finished for her, her voice dropping an octave. " The Human thousand Eyes, preserved in a stasis-fluid that maintains its connection to the nervous system of a wise one. It is scheduled to be delivered to a high-ranking Dark Magic user in the Eastern territories by dawn."
Sonia gasped. "A dark magic user? With that kind of sensory link, they could use mind control on multiple targets... they could track anyone in fairly large places with more specifics now."
"Which is why you are to abort," Athalia suggested rubbing her temples form the screen.
"Abort?" Yunli's drowsy eyes snapped. "How are we supposed to escape with the stasis device being placed all over..."
"No," Athalia interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You have faced stasis anchors, a hijacked weather system, and a memory-wiped Klaus. Vincent and Sonia are bleeding from neural strain. If you stay, you aren't just risking the mission; you are delivering yourselves to Ian who most likely would kill you all leaving only Vincent alive as his ability would serve them a great deal. Your survival is now the priority. Get to the secondary extraction point. That is an order."
The screen cut to black.
Yunli again just fell back to her bed while Sonia swallowed a few pain killers which apparently looked dangerous but she didn't care. They both stared at the wall clock and began packing.
To them being hunted by Ian's security combined with scarlet and Klaus was nothing short of suicidal. Ian's team had dangerous weapons to argument their slightly weak skills not to talk of their main security teams and Scarlet team combined with Klaus was definitely a no go.The Next Move was definitely to pull out since Athalia already had the information she need.
In the silence of his private suite, Mahito sat cross-legged on the floor, the Division Two serum resting on a low lacquer table before him. The purple liquid pulsed with a sickly, rhythmic light, casting long, distorted shadows against the walls.
He didn't look at it with the hunger of a buyer. He looked at it with the weary recognition.
"Organs of humans," Mahito murmured, his voice a low rasp that seemed to vibrate in the stagnant air. "Harvested at the moment of peak adrenaline. Bound with the salt of the earth and the whispers of the Old World then a large amount of blood from same organs apparently drained before death."
He reached out, his finger hovering just above the glass. "This is not medicine. It is a mould of curse. Each drop is a vessel for a thousand vengeful spirits, their final screams woven into the chemical lattice. If one's will falters for even a second..." He closed his eyes, remembering the five-minute hypnosis—the cold, dark space where he had seen their faces. "...the spirits don't heal the flesh. They consume the host soul slowly."
A sharp, arrogant laugh echoed from the corridor outside, cutting through his meditation.
"A hundred million for a bottle of grape juice," Stephenson's voice boomed, thick with the scent of expensive cigars and unearned confidence. "I suppose the Yakuza have more money than sense these days."
"Or perhaps he's planning to start a winery in the afterlife," Alois added, his French accent dripping with intentional mockery as their footsteps slowed near Mahito's door. "Though I doubt the 'Great Mahito' has much of a future left if the rumors of his failing health are true. He looks... fragile, wouldn't you say?"
The two tycoons laughed again, the sound of their heavy shoes receding down the hall. They spoke loudly, deliberately, testing the boundaries of the tiger they believed was restricted from AXILE's making.
Inside the room, Mahito didn't move. His hand remained steady. But the shadows on the wall behind him suddenly twisted into cracked webbed wall.
"Fragile," Mahito smirked then his guards drew out their knives ready to attack as soon as they were given the order.
"We shall see who breaks first when the spirits start to hunger."
The Bakery Lodge — Nightfall
The warmth of the ovens had long since faded, replaced by the biting, unnatural chill of the stasis-storm pressing against the walls. The "Jade Charm" lay shattered on the wooden table, its light extinguished, its purpose served.
Oscar hands moved swiftly and with precision, he packed compact medical kits, silenced magazines, and the few remaining fragments of their surveillance tech into reinforced rucksacks.
"We move at 04:00," Oscar said, his voice flat with focus. "Athalia's orders were clear. Survival is the priority. If the stasis field is still up, we blow the southern wall and run the coastal gauntlet."
Vincent sat on the edge of the cot, his hands finally steady, though his face remained pale. He was folding his cream-colored bakery vest with a strange, lingering slowness. He looked around the small kitchen—the place where he had spent months blending in, kneading bread, and watching the world go by.
"The blockades won't matter," Vincent said quietly.
He looked at the heavy duffel bag at his feet, filled with the tools of a trade he had hoped to leave behind. He felt the weight of the "so it was an Eye" the thought of a Dark Magic user gaining that kind of power made his skin crawl. But the blood on the floor from his own nose was a reminder of his limits.
"If Klaus is at the gate, I'll hold him," Vincent added, his eyes hardening as he looked at Oscar. "You get Sonia and Yunli to the extraction point. We have to be careful if Ian turns the whole city into a war ground like Gaspe peninsula. We're leaving this place tomorrow."
Oscar stopped packing and looked at his friend. He saw the resolve behind the exhaustion. "We leave together, Vincent. You'd be a subject for capture if we get overwhelmed by our emotions. Pack your gear. We have four hours of sleep before the city is on our back."
Outside, the snow reached the height of the windows, a white shroud for a city that was about to become explosive and guns blazing or maybe not.