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Russell set down the risk assessment document and reached for the office phone, his fingers already dialing Luther's extension.
"Director Luther, I need you in my office."
Within minutes, the square-faced director stood before him, curiosity evident in his expression. "You wanted to see me, Vice President?"
Russell slid the document across his desk. "Walk me through this. There's something wrong with this secret realm, isn't there? Otherwise it never would've made it to my desk in the first place."
He was right, of course. Random secret realm appearances were handled by local branches—they didn't escalate to Gold-rank Vice Presidents unless something was seriously wrong.
Luther's grave expression confirmed his suspicions. "You're absolutely right. This one's different—it's materialized right in the middle of a residential district in Laiyang County. We've established a perimeter, but whether we evacuate depends on what we find when we get there."
The implications hung heavy in the air. A secret realm in a densely populated area could mean catastrophe.
Russell was already on his feet. "Then we shouldn't waste any more time. Let's go."
The summer afternoon pressed down on East-Haven like a wet blanket, especially after the morning's rain. Steam rose from the pavement as old-timers gathered on the street corner, fanning themselves with whatever they could find.
"You hear about Old Pan's neighborhood?" An elderly man in a sweat-stained vest leaned forward conspiratorially. "Whole place is locked down tight."
But his companions weren't interested in gossip—they were too busy admiring the small device in his hand that somehow produced cool air despite the oppressive heat.
"That son of yours really takes care of you," one of them said enviously. "Those cooling cards aren't cheap."
The old man's chest puffed with pride, gossip instantly forgotten. "Eight hundred dollars! Can you believe it? I gave that boy an earful—'Why waste money on your old man?' I said. But look at this beauty—the Association's finest: [Portable Electric Fan: Cooling Endurance Super Enhanced Edition]. Even someone with my pathetic mental strength can run it for hours!"
A young man hurrying past caught fragments of their conversation. Unlike them, he knew the gossip was true—he lived in that locked-down neighborhood. The Association had relocated everyone to temporary housing, but he'd left something important behind. Something that couldn't wait.
Dylan Lin clutched the cigarette pack in his pocket as he approached the perimeter, hoping to bribe his way in. But the Association guard who stopped him looked about his own age and completely unmovable.
"Area's restricted. You'll need to find another route."
"Look, brother," Dylan tried his most ingratiating smile, offering a cigarette, "I just need five minutes. Left my work documents inside—if I don't get them, I'll lose my new job."
The guard's expression didn't even flicker. "Area's restricted. Find another route."
Dylan stood there, paralyzed by indecision. The Association could reissue his identification eventually, but by then his job opportunity would be long gone. He was gathering courage for another attempt when the guard suddenly stiffened, then jogged toward two figures Dylan hadn't noticed before.
A young man who couldn't be much older than Dylan himself stood at the community entrance, accompanied by a stern-looking middle-aged man. The guard spoke rapidly to the younger one, who then looked directly at Dylan.
The gaze hit him like a physical force. Every instinct screamed danger—as if some apex predator had fixed him in its sights. His whole body locked up, trembling, until just as suddenly the feeling vanished.
The young man said something to the guard, who hurried back.
"President Russell wants your name and address. He'll retrieve whatever you need—just wait here."
Dylan's mouth worked automatically. "I'm... Dylan Lin. Building 7, Unit 602, Laiyang Village Phase 3."
President Russell? THE Russell? The national champion?
"You sure about this, Vice President?" Luther kept his voice low as they entered the deserted community.
Russell's casual wave dismissed his concerns. "If this guy can somehow fool two Gold-rank cardmakers, then I deserve whatever happens."
A Shadowkhan materialized beside him, bowing before melting into darkness toward Building 7. Russell turned his attention to more pressing matters. "Did you send anyone in to scout the realm?"
"Couldn't." Luther shook his head. "It's been unstable since it first appeared—just fluctuating space cracks. No way to enter safely until it solidifies."
Which made sense, Russell knew. Secret realms didn't just pop into existence fully formed. First came the spatial instabilities, cracks in reality that slowly widened into stable portals. Catch them early enough, and a powerful spatial ability user might be able to collapse them entirely—though 'collapse' wasn't quite right, since no one really knew what happened on the other side.
This was his first time seeing one appear in such a populated area. If only I could use Kumoko here, he thought. Her spatial magic might be able to destabilize the whole thing. But that would blow his cover completely.
"Well then," Russell said, striding deeper into the ghost town the neighborhood had become, "let's see what we're dealing with."
Luther watched the young man's retreating back, something unreadable in his expression, before following.
Back at the perimeter, Dylan had been sitting on the curb for what felt like hours. The afternoon sun beat down mercilessly as he waited for the Vice President to return with his documents.
He glanced at the stone-faced guard. "So... that really was Russell? The tournament champion?"
The guard seemed to consider for a moment, remembering Russell's instruction to be more personable. "Yeah, that's him."
"Damn," Dylan muttered. "We're basically the same age, but look at the difference. Though wait—isn't he supposed to be Silver-rank? Can a Silver really be Vice President?"
The guard's tone turned odd. "Vice President Russell broke through to Gold recently. Haven't you seen the videos online?"
"Gold? Already? What videos—"
The ground suddenly lurched beneath them.
Then the explosion hit.
The sound was beyond deafening—it was a physical force that knocked Dylan flat. When he managed to look up, several apartment buildings in his community were simply... gone. Collapsed into rubble.
"MY MORTGAGE!" The absurd thought burst out of him. "Thirty years of payments! Two thousand a month!"
Suddenly that dark internet joke wasn't funny anymore—the one about Association cardmakers throwing your car at demons and missing, hitting your house instead.
The guard was already moving. "The Association will rebuild everything—just RUN!"
Dylan tried to stand but the ground wouldn't stop shaking. His legs, already weak from fear, betrayed him completely. He crashed back down, hands and knees bloodied from the rough concrete.
"Fucking disaster movies were right all along," he gasped, trying again to stand. "Background characters really do just fall down and die."
This was it. This was how normal people died when cardmakers fought.
Meanwhile, at the epicenter of the destruction, Russell stared up at what had once been a hairline crack in space. Now it gaped like a wound in reality itself, still spreading, having already consumed most of a residential building.
"How long until it stabilizes, Director?"
Luther studied the pulsing edges with an expert eye. "Two days at most. The expansion rate is already slowing compared to initial formation."
Russell nodded, about to respond, when the chaotic energies suddenly snapped into focus. The crack stopped flickering. A deep blue vortex materialized within the tear.
His cards materialized instantly, surrounding him in a protective formation.
"Luther, evacuate everyone NOW! We've got an invasion—demons are coming through! And contact headquarters—we need backup yesterday!"
Luther, a veteran of countless coastal engagements, recognized the danger immediately. He could feel it—malevolent presences pressing against the barrier between worlds.
"On it!" But he hesitated. "Vice President, you should pull back. We have no idea what's coming through—"
"I'll retreat if necessary," Russell said without looking away from the portal. Above them, storm clouds were already gathering, pregnant with lightning. "Right now, I want to see what we're dealing with."
Luther stood there for a moment longer, clearly torn, before his expression hardened with resolve. "Then I'm staying too. We'll face this together."
Russell shot him a surprised look, then understanding dawned. The Ambivalent Addict. Always torn between duty and desire, safety and glory.
"Your choice," he said simply.
Dylan's desperate crawl away from the destruction was pathetically slow. Behind him, orange energy beams split the sky while something purple and massive—half-giant, half-specter—moved through the ruins of what had been his home.
I'm going to die here, he thought with crystalline clarity. I'm going to die because I can't run fast enough.
"Come ON!" He slapped his own legs, trying to force them to work. "Move, damn you! I've got a future as a corporate wage slave to look forward to!"
The dark humor helped, somehow. His legs found a little more strength.
Then he heard it—carried on the wind like a battle cry:
"CALIBURN!"
He couldn't help but look back. A golden torrent of pure energy descended from the heavens, consuming everything where Laiyang Village Phase 3 had stood. From the ground, countless attacks in every color imaginable rose to meet it—a reverse rainbow of destruction.
The two forces met with a sound beyond sound. The world seemed to hold its breath.
Then came the explosion.
"This... this is what they do?" Dylan whispered, awed despite his terror. "This is what cardmakers really are?"
Reality crashed back as he realized a shadow had fallen over him. Not metaphorical—an actual shadow. He looked up to see a building, its foundations finally giving way, toppling toward him.
So this is how I die. Crushed by architecture.
He closed his eyes.
The crash came, deafening, but... no pain. No darkness.
Dylan opened his eyes to see steel beams and iron plates suspended above him, holding back tons of concrete that should have crushed him flat. Through the dust and smoke, he could make out a massive figure in the distance—a giant made of black sand, electricity coursing across its surface like living tattoos.
Standing atop its head were two figures: a young man and a girl with brown hair.
The young man was looking right at him.
Before Dylan could process this, someone appeared at his side—blue-skinned, dressed in black, moving with inhuman grace. The figure grabbed his arm and pulled him down into shadows that swallowed them both.
The next thing Dylan knew, he was standing several kilometers away, the battle a distant light show on the horizon. The blue-skinned figure pressed something into his hands—a document bag containing his work papers—then vanished without a word.
Dylan stared at the bag, then back at the distant giant, his racing heart finally beginning to slow.
"He saved me," he whispered. "Russell actually..."
Twin bolts of lightning, thick as buildings, crashed down from the gathered storm. The thunder that followed seemed to shake the very bones of the earth.
Dylan clutched his documents and ran.
(End of Chapter)
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