The Severed Thread
[Date: August 6, 980 GD. Time: 23:15. Location: The Under-City -- Sector 7G (Uncharted Zone)]
The corridor was narrow, dark, and smelled of old sulfur—the distinctive scent of earth untouched by fresh air for too long. No neon here. No beggars. No signs of life. This was a crack between the walls of the city's reality, a place forgotten by the architects when building The Great Tether.
Kara walked in front, her steps silent despite her large, muscular frame. She used Valdor military Night Vision Goggles glowing a dull green, scanning every corner with the efficiency of a veteran used to life in the trenches.
Behind her, Solstice walked casually, serving as their light source. The thin steam of heat emanating from her body glowed a faint blue, enough to illuminate a two-meter radius without triggering long-distance visual alarms.
"You're too bright, Neon Lamp," Kara whispered without turning, her voice barely audible. "The enemy could spot you from a kilometer away."
"And you smell too much like grease, Scrap," Solstice retorted flatly, her voice not a whisper but not echoing either. "The enemy could smell you before seeing me."
"Tsk. At least I don't need an umbrella underground."
"This umbrella prevents me from accidentally melting your face. You should be grateful."
Kara snorted, amused. Strangely, she was starting to like this disaster of a girl. Solstice didn't talk much, didn't complain much, and had a high potential for violence. Those were good friend criteria for Kara.
Kara stopped at a dead-end junction. The wall ahead was just damp, cracked concrete.
"Dead end?" Solstice asked, spinning her umbrella boredly.
"No," Kara crouched, feeling the thickly dusty metal floor. She raised her finger, showing a smear of fresh oil.
"Fresh tracks," Kara whispered, her tone turning serious. "Heavy boots. Vulcanized rubber soles. Not civilian flip-flops, not Valdor soldier boots. This is expensive imported gear."
Kara took a pinch of dust, sniffing it.
"Gunpowder. And... high-grade weapon oil."
Kara stood up, pressing the wall in front of her. A soft click was heard, and a section of the wall shifted—a simple optical illusion hiding a hydraulic door.
"There's light ahead," Kara said, turning off her Goggles. She glanced at Solstice, a savage grin appearing on her face. "Ready to play with fire?"
"Always," Solstice replied.
They stepped inside. The corridor opened into a vast natural cavern, hidden deep beneath the city's foundation. Its ceiling was high, covered in stalactites dripping acidic water.
In the center of the cavern, a secret logistics operation was underway.
A deep black, unmarked Sub-Train was being unloaded. The train's engine hummed softly—magnetic levitation technology far more advanced than Valdor's rusty trains.
Around the train, a group of men in dark grey tactical uniforms were working. Their faces were covered by full-face masks. Their movements were efficient, silent, and coordinated.
Not Vance's thugs. Not Kora's bike gang.
These were Special Forces. Top-tier mercenaries.
"Twelve," Kara counted quickly from behind a protective rock. "Suppressed kinetic weapons. And look at their cloaks... those are Anti-Mana Cloaks. Weave fabric that absorbs magic. They're professional mage-hunters."
"And look at the boxes," Solstice pointed.
The cargo crates being unloaded didn't have standard Hex-Crate markings. They were made of polished black wood, sealed with red wax without any stamp.
"That's not food," Solstice said, narrowing her eyes. "It's heavy. And it smells... dangerous."
"Boss's order: Destroy," Kara stretched her neck, a satisfying crack of bones heard. She glanced at Solstice.
"You want left or right?"
Solstice stepped out from cover, her black umbrella slung over her shoulder. She didn't take a stance. She just stood straight, looking at the enemies with a bored gaze.
"I want the center," Solstice answered. "Where there are the most."
Kara chuckled softly. "So greedy. Leave the commander for me."
Without warning, Solstice walked casually towards the center of the room, her boots clacking loudly on the stone floor.
"Hey!" she called out casually, her voice echoing in the vast cavern.
All twelve mercenaries turned simultaneously. No shouts of surprise. No questions. Within 0.5 seconds, twelve gun barrels were aimed at her.
"You're blocking the way," Solstice stated flatly.
One of the mercenaries—probably a sniper—fired.
Pfft.
The sound of a suppressed bullet split the air. The metal projectile shot towards Solstice's heart at supersonic speed.
Solstice didn't dodge. She didn't raise a hand. She just... breathed.
Her body heat spiked drastically.
TING.
The bullet didn't hit her body. It melted in the air, one meter in front of her, vaporizing into molten lead that dripped to the floor. The heat around Solstice was so intense it created a thermal shield that vaporized soft metal.
"My turn," Solstice murmured.
She took her black umbrella from her shoulder. She didn't open it. She held it like a fencing foil.
"Flame Lance."
WOOSH!
Not an exploding fireball. But a thin, dense, highly concentrated beam of blue flame shot from the tip of the umbrella. Like a cutting laser.
The beam pierced the first soldier's chest, went through his Anti-Mana cloak as if it were tissue paper, then pierced the second soldier behind him.
They didn't burn. They were punctured. Their flesh was instantly cauterized.
Chaos erupted.
"CONTACT! OMEGA TARGET!" the squad leader shouted. "Delta Formation! Activate Suppressor!"
The mercenaries moved swiftly. They threw cold smoke grenades—Cryo-Grenades—towards Solstice.
White freezing smoke exploded, trying to extinguish Solstice's fire.
Solstice laughed. For the first time, she laughed. A laugh that sounded like a crackling bonfire.
"Cold..." she hissed. "I like cold. But not this kind."
She opened her umbrella.
WHIRRRRR.
The Solaris umbrella spun rapidly. Its internal blades sucked in the cold smoke, converted it into fuel, then spat it back out as a spinning firestorm (Fire Tornado).
"Burn," Solstice commanded.
Blue fire swept the room. Three soldiers trying to take cover behind cargo crates screamed as the crates themselves caught fire. Their Anti-Mana cloaks were designed to withstand magic, but not designed to withstand 2,000 degrees Celsius. The fabric melted, sticking to their skin.
On the other side, Kara moved.
While all eyes were on Solstice, Kara was a shadow of death. She didn't use magic. She used physics and brutality.
She appeared from behind a soldier aiming at Solstice.
Kara didn't use her knife. She drove her elbow into the soldier's helmet.
KRAK.
Helmet shattered. Neck broken.
Kara grabbed the soldier's body, using it as a living shield against his comrade's fire, then threw the corpse at another enemy like a sack of rice.
"Weak!" Kara shouted gleefully, leaping over a cargo crate and landing with her knee right on an enemy's chest. Ribs shattered.
"You call this special forces? My grandma hits harder!"
In the center, Solstice was bored of playing with the lance. She wanted the area cleared.
"Kara, get down," Solstice ordered casually.
Kara immediately dropped to the floor without question.
Solstice raised her umbrella high.
"Heat Wave."
No visible fire. Just a massive distortion of air. An invisible wave of heat exploded from her body in all directions.
SSSHHHHHTT!
The entire cavern hissed. Stalactites on the ceiling melted and fell like lava rain. The train's iron warped. Weapons in the soldiers' hands turned red-hot, burning their own hands.
They dropped their weapons, screaming in pain as their skin blistered just from touching the air.
"Hot... so hot!" one soldier screamed, trying to rip off his mask which was starting to melt onto his face.
Within three minutes, the battle was over.
Twelve mercenaries incapacitated—most unconscious from mass heatstroke, the rest with broken bones from Kara.
Kara stood up, brushing dust off her pants. She looked at Solstice, who was closing her umbrella with a graceful motion.
"You cheated," Kara said, grinning. "You cooked them inside their own armor."
"Efficient," Solstice replied flatly. She pointed at the pile of black crates still intact (because she deliberately didn't burn them).
"Mission complete. Open the crates."
Kara walked over to the pile of crates. She kicked one until its lid came off.
"Let's see what makes Vance so bold," Kara said.
She looked inside the crate. Her grin vanished.
"Damn..." Kara hissed.
Inside the crate, neatly arranged on velvet foam, was not food. Not gold.
It was Kinetic Assault Rifles. Ancient models, Pre-Tear Era. Weapons using gas mechanisms and gunpowder. Weapons strictly forbidden by the Sovereign because they could kill mages without triggering magic sensors (as their bullets contain no Mana).
And beside the weapons were glass tubes containing a thick, black, self-churning liquid.
"Oil?" Solstice asked, approaching.
"No," Kara carefully picked up one tube, looking at the ancient warning label on its side.
"Liquid Aether," Kara read aloud. Her face paled. "It's pure explosive. One tube of this could collapse the Nexus Hall."
Kara looked at Solstice with a rarely shown expression of horror.
"This isn't ordinary smuggling, Miss Fire. This is a coup package. Someone is arming those 500 insane convicts with god-killer weapons."
Solstice stared at the weapons. Her blue eyes gleamed coldly.
"Take this to Wynter," she said. "He'll be very interested in these toys."
(Scene: Nexus Hall -- Back to the Command Center) [Time: 01:00. Day 2 of the Ultimatum]
I stared at the pitch-black assault rifle Kara placed on my strategy table with a heavy thud.
It smelled sharp—the smell of ancient weapon oil and a tangible threat of death.
Rian stood in a corner, trembling at the sight of it. In this orb, where magic was everything, ancient firearms were terrifying myths—like seeing a ghost from the past come for revenge.
"Kinetic Weapons," I murmured, touching its cold barrel with the still-numb tip of my finger. "Technology that was 'lost'. And Liquid Aether."
I looked at Kara and Solstice. They looked dirty, smelled of smoke, but were intact.
"Who sent them?" I asked.
Kara tossed a small metal disk onto the table. It was a lead seal she tore from a cargo crate.
The seal bore no national emblem. No Valdor Hammer, no Aurum Coin, no Aethelgard Flower.
Just a simple, crudely yet intricately carved image: A Hand Holding a Severed Thread.
Vianna, appearing via hologram from her office, jerked back upon seeing the seal. Her digital face paled.
"That's..." Vianna's voice trembled, losing her corporate calm. "I've seen that symbol in my father's forbidden archives. Archives that were supposed to be burned."
"Who?" I pressed. "Who uses the severed thread symbol?"
Vianna swallowed.
"Before the Sovereign ruled... before the Master Loom wove this world... there was a group that rejected that order. They weren't political rebels. They were Nihilists."
"Name, Vianna," I cut in.
"The Unravelers," Vianna whispered. "The Weavers of Unmaking. Those who believe the Master Loom—the machine of destiny in the Sky—must be destroyed so humanity can be free from the Gods' scenario."
A heavy silence fell over the room. Heavier than before.
I stared at the seal. The Loom. The Weaver.
Suddenly, the mysterious messages on my Smart-ID made sense. The person giving me orders, calling himself "The Weaver"... was he the enemy of this group? Or was he their leader?
(Wynter's Monologue) This world is woven fabric. The Sovereign weaves it. The Unravelers want to tear it apart. And me? I'm just caught between the scissors and the thread.
"Vance isn't just a corrupt official," I said softly, realizing the scale of the problem. "He's backed by ancient anarchists. Or perhaps... the anarchists are using Vance as a puppet to trigger a civil war."
"The situation has changed," I said, my voice returning to cold and tactical. The residual euphoria from Solstice was completely gone. Now I only felt the clear, frightening cold of reality.
"We're not facing a local rebellion. We're facing an ideological war."
I looked at the rifle.
I fell silent. My eyes shifted from the black rifle to the map of the Under-City.
Military logic said attack now. That was a reactive response. That was the response of someone panicking.
But I wasn't a general. I was the Grand Praetor. And to be honest... I hated the sound of explosions. I hated screaming. I hated unnecessary chaos.
"No," I answered. My voice was calm, lowering the tension in the room like turning down the volume on a too-loud radio.
Kara turned, disappointed. "No?"
"We will not attack at dawn tomorrow," I said, pushing the rifle away with my fingertip as if it were disgusting. "The original plan stands. The Three-Day Ultimatum remains in effect."
"Are you insane?" Vianna hissed via hologram. "They have mage-killer weapons! Waiting just gives them time to take aim!"
"On the contrary, Vianna," I replied softly, leaning back into the comfortable chair.
"Open war is noisy. Exhausting. And wasteful."
I pointed towards the wall clock.
"Vance is stockpiling these weapons, not to use them. He's stockpiling them because he's afraid. If we attack now, he'll panic and blow everything up. Zero Point would become a noisy death-fireworks carnival. I don't want that."
I looked at my team with a tired yet sharp gaze.
"We have to keep him in doubt. We let him rot in his own bunker, surrounded by weapons he doesn't dare use, while we silently cut his supply lines."
"So we just let him sleep?" Kara asked incredulously, twirling her knife in frustration. "Boring."
"Not letting," I corrected. "We increase the pressure. But silently."
I looked at Rian.
"Rian, prepare drafts for Titus and Kael. Day 2 is no longer about passive warnings. Tomorrow, we conduct surgical operations. Destroy his logistics warehouses one by one. Silent. Lethal. No drama."
"We'll starve him, blind him, and make him alone."
I let out a long sigh, enjoying the silence of the room.
"I like peace, Kara. I like it when my enemies die without getting a chance to scream."
Solstice, who had been quietly cleaning soot from her nails, looked up.
She didn't look disappointed about the cancelled battle. On the contrary, her shoulders seemed relaxed. The fire in her eyes dimmed to a calm ember.
"Agreed," Solstice murmured softly.
She folded her arms, looking at me with a strange understanding.
"Explosions are noisy, Ash. Hot. Exhausting. I've spent my whole life being a walking bomb. Honestly... I'm sick of the sound of shattering."
Solstice gave a faint smile—a sincere one, not a predator's grin.
"Strangling them slowly sounds... soothing. Like a nap."
I returned her smile.
"You like playing with your food, huh, Ice Block?" she teased, but her tone was agreeable.
"I like to eat without choking on bones, Solstice," I replied. "And I like to eat in silence."
I looked out the window, towards the darkness of the under-city that would soon become a silent prison for Vance.
"Let him sleep soundly tonight. Tomorrow... we'll make sure he wakes up in a quiet nightmare."