——Who is the True Guardian?
The cavern still throbbed with the aftermath of power.
Sparks lingered in the air, glowing like fireflies trapped in a storm.
Shawn staggered, his body burning from within. The Thunder Core hadn't just awakened—it was moving.
His fingertips crackled.
But there was no time to make sense of it.
A new wave of O.S.S. warriors surged in from the tunnel's edge, weapons drawn, eyes glowing with synthetic clarity.
Shawn turned, fists blazing—barely deflecting the first strike. The impact sent him sliding back along the stone bridge.
Too many. Too fast.
His vision blurred from exhaustion and energy surge.
One enemy lunged—he blocked. A second came from behind—he turned too late.
A flash of gold intercepted the blow.
Kelly Farnham appeared beside him, moving with effortless grace. His fingers carved symbols into the air, golden light flowing from his palms.
But even Kelly couldn't hold them off alone.
A Taoist priest nearby spun his staff with practiced precision, his robes torn and dirtied. Each swing sent out shockwaves, slamming enemies against the cavern walls.
Still, more kept coming.
BOOM.
The cavern wall exploded inward. Chunks of rock flew across the chamber. A jagged stalactite crashed beside Shawn, shattering on impact. He stumbled out of the way, barely avoiding the worst of it.
Then—Quinn stepped forward.
His cloak billowed behind him as he advanced.
.His eyes gleamed in the dim light—calm, detached, cold.
"Enough."
He raised a hand. The air thickened instantly, pressing down like a crushing weight.
Shawn's limbs locked up. Some unseen force rooted him in place.
Quinn advanced, each step deliberate and unhurried. The battlefield fell into silence around him, as if even sound dared not follow.
"You can't keep doing this, Shawn," he said, voice low but clear. "You don't even understand what you are. What you're carrying."
He tilted his head, half-smiling. "You cling to that core like a kid holding onto a toy. But it was never yours to begin with."
Shawn's fists trembled. He fought to move—fought to breathe.
Kelly stepped slightly forward, golden light rippling around his arms. "Step away from him, Quinn."
Quinn glanced at Kelly and let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"Still playing protector, Kelly? Noble, but useless."
His tone darkened. "You're only delaying the inevitable. The Core inside him… will answer to me. Whether you stand in the way or not."
Kelly didn't flinch. "He'll choose his own path."
Quinn's smile faded. "He doesn't have a path. He is the path. And paths… always lead back to origin."
Shawn felt something snap. Not outside—inside.
With a roar, lightning erupted around him. The force pinning him cracked—not like glass, but like something ancient and waiting.
He lunged forward, fists blazing with raw power—aimed straight at Quinn—
But Quinn was ready. He smiled faintly.
Tendrils of shadow lashed out. They struck Shawn hard in the chest, flinging him backward like a marionette whose strings had been severed. He slammed into a stone pillar with a crunch.
The world spun. Air wouldn't come.
"Shawn!" the Taoist priest shouted, rushing toward him—but another surge of energy burst out, blocking his path.
Kelly reacted instantly. He stepped in front, golden sigils spinning into existence midair, catching the blast before it could hit.
Quinn exhaled slowly. "You're wasting your strength protecting him. He'll come with us in the end."
Shawn forced himself upright. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His arms shook from the effort—but the Thunder Core still pulsed inside him, steady and alive.
Quinn lifted a finger.
The O.S.S. warriors charged.
Shawn braced himself.
This was it.
He couldn't hold out much longer.
Fweeeeee—!
A piercing whistle split the air.
The O.S.S. soldiers halted mid-attack. Silence followed.
Then, they turned and began to retreat. No words. No hesitation. Just silent, synchronized withdrawal.
The shadow energy around them faded, dispersing like smoke in the wind.
Shawn blinked, chest heaving. He barely had time to register what just happened.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Footsteps echoed through the tunnels—steady, heavy, deliberate.
A new group had entered.
From the cave ahead, a squad of soldiers emerged. They wore dark gray armor, every step measured. Not a word was spoken.
Their helmets bore an obvious symbol.
Revolutionary Guards.
Under the cave's faint glow, their insignia glinted cold and metallic.
They didn't charge. They spread out in formation, forming a silent wall.
Their weapons rose—not toward Shawn, but toward the retreating shadows.
They weren't here to kill him. They were here to protect him.
At the center of the line stood a woman.
She removed her helmet with a soft hiss. The glow from her armor's display lit her face—sharp features, eyes focused, expression cold and unreadable.
Her gaze locked onto Shawn.
"Shawn Mercer," she said, calm and firm. "You're coming with us."
Shawn turned to Kelly.
Kelly gave a small nod, steady and composed, a flicker of relief in his eyes. "They're CP-Hub National Guards," he said. "You're safe now."
CP-Hub.
The power center of the great Eastern nation. The name alone carried weight.
But... Why them?
Shawn's fists clenched. His legs wavered. Exhaustion pulled at him, but his thoughts refused to yield.
The woman stepped in, her voice low and final. "You don't have a choice."
Shawn's eyes shifted to the shadows—Quinn stood there, half-hidden, watching. His face was unreadable… until a smirk broke through.
"This changes nothing," Quinn muttered, then turned and slipped into the dark.
The woman gestured toward the tunnel. "Move."
Shawn didn't answer. For a heartbeat, he stood still—caught between resistance and resignation.
Then his hand brushed the Thunder Core in his chest. Still pulsing. Still alive.
He moved—slow at first, then steadier.
The CP-Hub guards closed in around him. As the squad began to march, a single thought echoed in his mind—not why they came…
…but what they were about to make him become.