Chapter 160: Well Prepared

Chapter 160

In a distant building cloaked in shadows and mystery, a thunderous crack echoed, followed by a shockwave that rippled through the walls like a quake of fury.

"Not again!" a furious voice roared.

Inside the sealed chamber stood the three mightiest heroes of the modern world: The Beast, Undying Flame, and Lord Tech. Their expressions were grim—especially the Beast, whose eyes burned with a murderous rage, his entire body trembling with barely restrained fury.

They were trapped.

Encasing them was a massive, glowing green barrier, the third one they had shattered. Yet, with each layer they broke, another, more advanced one appeared in its place. It was a prison designed with maddening precision.

If the world learned that the top three heroes—symbols of power and freedom—were being held captive like this, it would spark chaos across every continent.

"That damned bastard," the Beast growled through gritted teeth, fists clenched so tight his knuckles bled. "Every layer gets more complex, more durable. This isn’t just brute strength—it’s mental warfare!"

Each barrier demanded careful thought, advanced logic, and extreme coordination to dismantle. The one responsible had anticipated their every move. It was obvious now—Drake had orchestrated this to prevent their interference in whatever was unfolding in Maurina City.

"How long will this one take?" Undying Flame asked as he sat cross-legged, his fiery aura flickering with irritation.

Lord Tech studied the barrier, his frown deepening as glowing circuits ran along the edges of his visor. "It’s worse than the last. This one’s deeply layered, multi-structured. Honestly..." He paused, letting out a defeated sigh. "It’ll take even longer than the previous three."



The other two fell silent.

Frustration brewed within them, but beneath that frustration was a growing fire—a silent oath forming in their hearts.

Once these cursed barriers were gone...

The Cursed will pay.

---

Meanwhile, in the Northern Continent...

Before the massive, fortified gates of Serenya City, several figures clad in red armor approached with unrelenting purpose. Towering, swift, and silent—they radiated an aura of death.

Standing in their way were three members of the Tryst Guild, blocking the road with weapons drawn.

"Halt! State your purpose!" one guild member shouted, his voice firm as it echoed across the open plain.

But there was no reply.

Instead, the red-armored figures exploded into motion, their speed blinding. In a blink, one of them appeared in front of a Tryst member, grabbed his neck—

Snap! Crack!

—twisting it with brutal force. The man collapsed, lifeless.

Panic surged in the remaining two as they retreated behind the great gates, shouting warnings. Five more guild members stayed behind to delay the advancing force.

They were outmatched.

They were outnumbered.

They were slaughtered.

But they had done enough. The massive city gates groaned and slammed shut, locking behind the fleeing defenders.

The red-armored attackers, known as the Red Vanguard, launched a coordinated assault on the gates, but the door held firm. Forged from reinforced arcanite and fortified with powerful runes, the gate had been designed to endure even an S Ranker’s full-force assault.

"Step back. I’ll handle the disturbance," came a calm voice from behind the Red Vanguard.

The soldiers instantly recognized the voice and obeyed without hesitation, pulling away from the massive, fortified gates of Serenya.

Metallo stepped forward.

He stood tall, crimson armor glinting under the pale sun, his tone calm—almost regretful.

"What a beautiful gate," he murmured. "Shame it has to come down."

Stretching both arms forward, Metallo’s eyes glowed faintly as his power surged.

Snap. Crunch. Crack.

A groan of twisting metal echoed across the field. Before everyone’s eyes, the great gate began to bend inward—screaming under the strain. Steel warped like paper in Metallo’s invisible grip. With a thunderous BOOM, the hinges tore free and the gates collapsed, crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust and sparks.

The Red Vanguard stood in silent awe.

It wasn’t every day they witnessed a Dark Emissary in action—and when they did, the results were nothing short of devastating.

Without delay, the Red Vanguard charged into the city.

"Hmm... they’re prepared," muttered the squad leader as he scanned the eerily empty streets. Not a single civilian in sight. Empty houses, abandoned stalls, and vacant sidewalks lined the entrance of Serenya.

The moment the Tryst Guild had sealed the gates earlier, they had sent out an emergency signal.

Under the command of Silver and the city’s other strategists, the evacuation plan was already in motion. Civilians—especially non-Awakeners and low-tiered ones—were relocated to underground shelters far from the battlefront. Meanwhile, every combat-capable member of the Tryst Guild had mobilized to confront the invading force.

From the rooftops and alleyways, they emerged.

A hundred or more guild members stood ready, weapons drawn, faces grim.

At the head of the Red Vanguard stood a man with icy-blue hair and piercing eyes: Freezer, the cold-blooded commander. Without a word, he raised his hands to the air.

The temperature plummeted.

Then, with a thunderous slam of both palms into the ground, a wave of frost exploded outward—an area-wide attack meant to sap the vitality and slow the movements of his enemies.

The guild members weren’t frozen, but the effects were immediate—frost clung to their limbs, joints stiffened, and their reaction times dropped sharply.

"Attack," Freezer commanded.

The Red Vanguard launched their assault. Fire, blades, bullets, and mystic energy rained down on the defenders. Many of the guild members fell instantly, overwhelmed before they could adapt to the freezing effect.

Others rallied, managing to defend themselves and fight back—but the pressure was mounting.

Still, fear did not consume them.

Because they knew—reinforcements were on the way.

Suddenly, an arrow whistled through the air, nearly piercing the eye of a Red Vanguard soldier. He barely ducked in time.

"Tch... those cursed bastards are really here," Shin muttered, standing atop a tall building, bow in hand, his long coat billowing in the rising wind.

But he wasn’t alone.

From the side, a massive figure barreled through two buildings like a juggernaut. With a powerful leap, he soared into the air and came down with a devastating overhead punch aimed at another Red Vanguard warrior.

BOOM!

The attack landed—but a shimmering red barrier flared around the target, absorbing the brunt of the strike.

The sheer force of Bron’s punch sent the Red Vanguard soldier skidding several steps backward, his boots grinding against the stone. But to Bron’s surprise, the man remained completely unharmed—his armor uncracked, his stance steady.

Bron’s eyes narrowed.



He hadn’t used his full strength, true—but it had still been enough to cripple most enemies. For this man to shrug it off like a casual breeze?

These weren’t the same Red Vanguard that razed Maurina.

No, this group was different.

Elite. Enhanced. Deadlier.

Outfitted with reinforced barriers, high-grade power weapons, and likely supported by tactical-level commanders.

"This fight’s going to be hell... way tougher than expected," Bron muttered grimly.

Then he exhaled, calming himself.

He wasn’t alone.

Hundreds of sleek battle drones, hovering like mechanical wasps, shot into the sky behind him. Their targeting systems locked onto the Red Vanguard soldiers in unison. In seconds, each drone began to glow—charging up for a synchronized barrage.

Then—

Zzzrrtt—BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A storm of energy blasts rained down from the heavens like divine punishment. Blinding flashes. Explosions of debris. Shockwaves cracked the air. The Red Vanguard’s barriers held at first—but then ripples began to spread across their surfaces... and one by one, they shattered.

For a moment, it looked like the Red Vanguard were finished.

But just as the blasts reached their mark—

WHUUUMMM!

A massive dome of metal erupted from the ground, encasing the entire unit in a shimmering silver cocoon. The barrage slammed against it—but not a single blast broke through. After several long seconds, the shell receded into the ground with a smooth clang.

Silence.

The battlefield stared, wide-eyed, as the Red Vanguard emerged completely unharmed. Not a scratch. Not even a speck of dust on them.

It was as if they’d never been in danger at all.

Then a voice echoed calmly across the ruined street.

"Members of the Tryst Guild," the speaker said, tone polite—almost playful.

All eyes turned to him.

A man in a jet-black armor suit, ash-grey hair slicked back, stood casually atop a half-destroyed balcony. A faint smile curved on his lips as he raised one hand lazily into the air.

"Looks like I have your attention," he said.

The guild members’ expressions darkened.

He was the one who had warped Serenya’s gate earlier. And now—he’d just turned that same metal into a protective fortress.

Metallo.

The name rippled through the crowd like a chill wind.

"Forgive my manners," Metallo said with a mock bow. "Allow me to offer you a gift."

With a single motion, the surrounding metal twisted and curled into a massive spherical mass, like a cannonball forged by a god. It hovered in the air for a moment—ominous, humming with destructive energy.

"Accept it with gratitude," he said softly.

Then he hurled it.

"EVERYONE, MOVE!" Bron shouted, already sprinting away.

The metallic sphere roared as it crashed downward—obliterating most of the drones in its path, then rolling through the city like a wrecking ball from hell. Buildings crumbled. Guild members were crushed under its weight. Screams erupted. It was a wave of pure destruction—merciless and unstoppable.

Shin stood frozen atop his perch, watching the carnage unfold, face grim with awe.

"That... That’s not normal," he muttered. Then his eyes narrowed, focusing on the smiling man still standing atop the wrecked balcony.

A Dark Emissary.

There was no doubt.

"He’s too dangerous," Shin hissed. "We need to take him out—now."

Without hesitation, he fired a volley of glowing arrows—each one packed with enough power to tear through enchanted steel. The arrows screamed toward Metallo’s chest.

But Metallo didn’t flinch.

With a lazy flick of his hand, he summoned a large metallic door from the nearest building. It soared through the air and slammed into place just in time, absorbing the full impact.

The door held.

Reinforced by his energy, it was tougher than tank-grade plating.

Shin cursed, already drawing more arrows.

But then—

"SHIN, DODGE!"

The voice was urgent. Desperate. And familiar.

Shae.

Shin didn’t hesitate. He ducked instantly.

FWWOOM—BOOOOOM!

An enormous blast of energy barely missed his head, but the shockwave clipped him hard. Blood sprayed from the side of his skull as his right ear was shredded by the force. He stumbled, disoriented, pain flaring.

But he was alive.



Barely.

He turned toward the source of the attack—and his heart sank.

There stood a second figure.

Black-armored like Metallo, but taller, broader. His dark hair framed a cruel face, and at the center of his forehead sat an ominous, glowing third eye, pulsating with yellow energy.

The eye locked onto Shin, and he felt the crushing weight of its gaze in his very soul.

No...

Not one.

The Cursed hadn’t sent just one Dark Emissary.

They’d sent two.

To be continued...

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