Silas Von's gaze locked onto Jake Nickelson, and Jake met it without flinching.
The air between them grew thick and heavy, freezing solid in an instant.
Rolly, sensing the dangerous tension, tried to lighten the mood with a forced chuckle.
"Hey, Boss, you ain't thinkin' Jake led the horde here, are ya? No way! He'd be dead meat if that were true! Right? Haha..."
"Silence! Was I speaking to you?" Silas snapped, turning a withering glance toward Rolly.
The intensity of that look hit Rolly like a physical blow; his legs turned to jelly, and he crumpled to the ground as if stared down by a prehistoric predator.
The full, crushing weight of Silas's presence—the aura of a Stellar Rank powerhouse—now focused entirely on Jake.
"Show me the Blood Crystal."
Jake, however, seemed unnervingly unaffected. He calmly reached down and helped a trembling Rolly back to his feet.
"I can show it to you," he said, his voice steady. "But let's not forget—we're partners here. This is a cooperative mission."
As Jake produced the crystal, a collective, sharp intake of breath swept through the group.
Within its depths, subtle yet unmistakable, shimmered faint, golden threads.
"A Golden-Thread Blood Crystal!" someone gasped.
"You clever little... So it was you who drew the horde!" Silas's voice was a low growl.
"What are you talking about?" Jake demanded, his guard going up.
"What am I talking about?" Silas pointing at the Blue Blood Crystal.
"This is the proof! I don't have time to explain it to you. For now, I'll be holding onto this Golden-Thread Crystal for you. It's the only way—keeping it in a spatial pack is the sole method to shield its energy from being sensed by the variant Dymin Zoan."
Jake said nothing, his eyes fixed intently on Silas Von.
The intensity of that silent stare unnerved Silas, sending a faint, unfamiliar prickle down his spine.
He was just about to unleash his anger when Jake simply extended his hand and offered up the Golden-Thread Blood Crystal.
All of Silas's simmering fury was instantly quenched by the crystal's mesmerizing beauty.
He snatched it, stashing it into his spatial pack in one fluid motion. A ghostly, almost predatory grin spread across his face.
"Smart move, kid. Alright, we're moving out!"
With that, he made a casual grasping motion at the air.
Jake and the other three Baseline Humans felt an invisible force constrict around them, lifting them effortlessly off the ground until they hovered over two meters in the air.
It was a feeling of utter powerlessness—like an infant being lifted by an adult, completely at the mercy of a will far greater than their own.
[Those below the Stellar Rank are merely ants!] Jake thought, his fists clenching silently at his sides.
Silas glanced back, his eyes lingering on Jake for a deliberate moment.
The corner of his mouth twitched upward into a faint, knowing smirk. Then, he leaped from the rooftop ledge, pulling all four of them along in his wake.
Two meters wasn't high. But the moment they cleared the edge of the rooftop, that sensation vanished, replaced by the terrifying, weightless plunge into the open air.
Jake felt his heart leap into his throat. Beside him, Rolly and Sam were completely losing their minds.
"Whoooooaaaaaaaaa... HOLY SH——CRAP!"** Rolly's scream wasn't one of pure terror, but a spectacular, roller-coaster mix of panic and perverse exhilaration, cutting himself off at the last second as he remembered who was carrying them.
His limbs flailed comically in the empty air.
Instead of dropping straight down, Silas carried them on a controlled, gliding descent through the crimson haze.
They soared just above the grasping claws of the majority of the Ash-Howlers below before their figures were completely swallowed by the thick, blood-red fog.
--------
"Leon. That's the place?" Silas asked, his eyes fixed on a patch of unnaturally pale mist lingering at the edge of the forest ahead.
"That's it, Uncle Silas. I planted a beacon there before I pulled out."
Silas gave a curt nod. With a silent command, his four mechanical hounds materialized beside him.
They were worse for wear—each was spattered with varying amounts of black gore, and one was sporting a visibly damaged forelimb.
Pulling a replacement part from his spatial pack, Silas swiftly fixed the damaged limb with practiced efficiency.
A silent gesture sent the repaired scouts fanning out, disappearing instantly into the oppressive mist.
A moment later, a fresh, updated holographic terrain map flickered to life before the team's eyes.
"Good. Everyone, check your tactical lenses. Sync your positioning data,"
Silas ordered, his voice all business. "We move."
Without another word, he plunged into the tree line. The others, exchanging determined glances, hurried after him.
"Ugh, feels like the ground's soaked through with blood—squishy and gross," Rolly muttered, wrinkling his nose as he eyed the skeletal trees around them.
"Let's just hope it's different inside the convergence point..." Sam replied, his voice trembling slightly.
"[Silence!]" A message from Silas Von flashed across their neural links.
Rolly pressed his lips together, swallowing his fear as he stared into the ashen-gray dead forest ahead. He didn't say another word.
Maybe Sam's wish came true. The farther they walked, the less of that blood-like sludge clung to their boots, and faint signs of life—tiny sprouts, less brittle bark—began appearing among the trees.
After another stretch of cautious advance, Silas suddenly raised a clenched fist—halt.
He performed a series of quick, silent operations with his interface, then turned back with a grim expression.
"I've lost contact with the mechanical hounds."
Every heart in the group sank like a stone.
Vincent Franks moved up from the rear, his voice a mix of disbelief and concern. "Director, those are Class-A military hounds! How is that even possible?!"
Silas's brow furrowed deeply. "Nothing is 'impossible' here." He fell silent for a moment, then turned to Leon.
"Leon. What was the situation like when your team came through?"
"My father didn't have scout hounds back then," Leon replied, scanning their surroundings cautiously.
"But the environmental markers… they match what he described."
Silas gave a grim nod. "Vincent, take the rear. Everyone else, stick close and stay sharp. Adapt to anything."
With that, he continued leading the way forward.
Before long, an ancient-looking palace emerged ahead—its architecture elegant yet utterly alien, unlike anything from any known era on this planet.
"[Stay alert. We have fully entered the spatial convergence point,]" Silas pulsed over the neural link.
"[Acknowledged, Director. Comms are still clear,]" Vincent responded.
The group advanced cautiously, observing the increasingly lush and vibrant vegetation around them as they closed in on the mysterious structure.
"[Initiating comm silence from this point. Maintain extreme vigilance!]" Silas ordered.
After a final glance back at the team, he pressed forward into the unknown palace.
The great hall doors were slightly ajar.
Silas ran his hand over the thick, solid wood, silently marveling at its exquisite and luxurious craftsmanship.
But he didn't linger. Cautiously, he slipped through the opening into the hall beyond—only to freeze in place the very next moment, utterly stunned.