In those moments, news of Nova's death finally reached the members of the organization.
The upper ranks, however, showed no sign of surprise they were already aware of Alaric's true strength.
Selena, one of the organization's elite assassins known for handling high-risk covert operations stood beside her teammate Drago, whose role centered on direct eliminations and the protection of the upper echelon. She admitted, with a hint of disbelief, that Nova's death had caught her off guard… and that, from this moment on, she held a growing resentment toward Alaric.
Drago did not respond immediately. He remained silent, his mind working with cold precision. *Why would Alaric go this far?* he wondered. After a brief pause, he finally turned to her and spoke in a calm, controlled tone:
"You don't know him well enough… nor do you understand how deeply he's tied to this organization. I suggest you stay out of this for now. We wait for orders from above."
He then added, shifting the conversation:
"Contact Alexander. I want to discuss our next mission."
The mission in question was far from simple. Their objective was to capture *the Fox* or at the very least, uncover the force supporting him. The situation was dangerously unclear. They had no solid information about their target's allies, strengths, or weaknesses. Every move from here on could be a fatal mistake.
Selena reached out to Alexander, who, in turn, summoned Orion the organization's reclusive genius. Orion specialized in advanced technology, cyber infiltration, and intelligence gathering. He was a man of very few words, possessing an extraordinary intellect. Thin, pale, with blond hair and a distant gaze, he carried himself like someone detached from the world around him.
Before Alexander could even ask a question, Orion spoke:
"Before you say anything… take a look at the file I prepared."
Without waiting for a response, he left the room and headed upstairs, where he resumed reading his current novel *The Brothers Karamazov* by Dostoevsky completely indifferent to the tension unfolding below.
Alexander opened the file and studied it carefully. His sharp mind quickly absorbed its contents. Without wasting time, he forwarded it to Selena, who then passed it along to Drago.
(And yes… for the record, those two are married.)
After reviewing the information, Alexander suggested something unexpected:
"Let Alaric design the attack plan."
It was a bold decision but one that spoke volumes about his confidence in Alaric's capabilities.
Alexander went to find him. He discovered Alaric sitting alone in his room, surrounded by chaos—papers scattered everywhere, an unsettling reflection of the mind behind them. They spoke briefly, and without hesitation, Alaric began outlining a strategy.
(A plan you're probably curious about… but let's keep that as a surprise.)
After reviewing the plan from multiple angles, Alexander grasped its brilliance almost instantly. His natural intuition allowed him to see what others might miss.
Soon after, he left to meet Drago at the designated location.
Drago stood there, an imposing figure—broad-shouldered, muscular, with a perfectly balanced physique. His long, jet-black hair fell over a dark wool coat, and resting across his shoulders was a massive, wide-bladed sword that seemed as heavy as his presence.
Without a word, the two mounted his motorcycle and sped off into the night.
They eventually arrived at a location that resembled a museum elegant, refined, and filled with individuals of influence and power. It was the kind of place where secrets hid behind polished surfaces.
They approached the main entrance.
Three men stood guard.
"Who are you? What do you want?" one of them demanded.
In the blink of an eye Drago moved.
A single, fluid motion of his blade… and the three heads fell, rolling lifelessly to the ground at Alexander's feet.
Alexander glanced down, then back up, unfazed.
"As aggressive as ever," he remarked dryly.
Drago smirked.
"We don't have time to waste on trash."
They stepped inside.
And that's when they saw him.
A man sat quietly just beyond the entrance, writing.
Completely calm.
Completely indifferent ,As if the violence that had just unfolded meant nothing.
Yet something about him was… wrong.
A presence.
A pressure in the air.
An aura so dangerous, it made even silence feel heavy.
He didn't look up.
He didn't react.
He simply continued writing.
And somehow that was far more terrifying than any weapon.
{Who is this guy ?}