Chapter 161: Intrusion at 30,000 Feet

Chapter 161

An airship cruised swiftly through the skies, the letters ARC emblazoned boldly across its side. Inside, five enforcers clad in obsidian uniforms lounged in the control chamber. Normally, enforcers were all discipline and silence—but today, the air was thick with chatter.

First Enforcer: "Did you hear the latest update?"

Second Enforcer: "What update?"

Third Enforcer chuckled mockingly, eyes darting between the two. "Are you even alive, man? He’s talking about The Exterminator. You know—the most wanted criminal in the empire."

The first enforcer nodded grimly.

First Enforcer: "Rumor has it... he killed a Class S hero."

Silence fell like a guillotine. Even the hum of the ship seemed to fade for a moment.

Fourth Enforcer hesitated, then blurted out, "No way. A Class S? Can someone like that even be killed?"

Four heads turned slowly toward him, their expressions somewhere between disbelief and pity—the kind of look reserved for those who had just said something truly dumb.

His cheeks flushed red.



Fourth Enforcer: "What? It was just a slip of the tongue! Don’t look at me like I’m crazy."

The others burst out laughing, the tension melting—if only briefly.

Soon, they were deep in debate over The Exterminator’s fate.

First Enforcer: "He’ll be executed on sight. No question."

Third Enforcer: "Maybe not. I mean... if he’s strong enough to kill an S-ranker, why waste him? He might even get invited into the ranks."

Voices rose. Sides were taken. What started as banter turned heated, verging on a full-blown argument—until a bang interrupted it.

Second Enforcer: "What was that?"

All heads snapped upward. Nothing. No alarms. No movement. They exchanged glances, tension rising.

Then—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

A massive dent appeared in the ceiling. And then—

BOOOOOOM!

The roof of the airship exploded inward in a burst of metal and flame. Shrapnel rained down as wind howled into the cabin. Panic surged through the enforcers as they scrambled for weapons, drawing both power-imbued gear and awakeners’ blades.

They were ready for anything.

Or so they thought.

Three figures stepped calmly through the smoke.

But the enforcers froze—not from fear...

From disbelief.

Teenagers.

The first had hair split perfectly down the middle—white on one side, black on the other—framing icy blue eyes.

The second was a tall, chiseled blond with a cocky grin that screamed confidence.

The third was a short-haired girl with piercing pink eyes, her calm gaze scanning the room like she was browsing a market.

They didn’t look like threats.

They looked like celebrities.

Not killers.

"Hey, kids! What the hell are you doing here?" one of the enforcers barked, his voice deep and gruff as he tried to sound intimidating.

The blonde-haired teen among the trio stepped forward with a casual grin. "We’re here to pick up a friend. Mind if we borrow your ship?"

The enforcers stared at each other, stunned. Were these kids insane?

Still smiling, the blond—Aiden—tilted his head.

"You’ve got two choices," he said, holding up a pair of fingers.

"Option one: Hand over the ship and get knocked out the easy way.

Option two: Resist... and get knocked out the hard way."

He paused, then scratched his head.

"Wait... those are basically the same thing," he muttered before shrugging.

"Whatever. Time to choose."

The enforcers exchanged silent glances—then all nodded at once.

Bad move.

Blasters were drawn. Energy beams lit up the room like a disco from hell. To the enforcers, this was just another group of overconfident punks who didn’t understand how things worked in ARC.

They were about to learn.

Han’s eyes glowed blue, a quiet spark building in their depths.

In an instant, arcs of lightning erupted from his body, dancing through the air like vengeful serpents. They collided with the incoming energy blasts, tearing them apart mid-air. The room flickered under the storm’s light.

The enforcers froze, mouths agape.

Aiden let out a slow sigh, shaking his head.

"Wrong choice."

Han’s lightning intensified, crackling violently across his body.

"Lightning Barrage," he whispered.

A storm of raw electricity surged outward, engulfing all five enforcers. They screamed as their suits sparked and sputtered. Muscles convulsed uncontrollably under the relentless shock. If not for their reinforced gear, they’d have been unconscious already.

Aiden stepped forward, cracking his knuckles.

"I warned you. You should’ve taken the easy route."

With precise strikes, he delivered a punch straight to the face of one still-twitching enforcer.

BAM. THUD.

He dropped like a sack of bricks.

Aiden moved swiftly.

BAM. BAM. BAM. BAM.

THUD. THUD. THUD. THUD.

One by one, the rest collapsed.

A few minutes later, all five enforcers lay unconscious and stripped of their uniforms and ID cards, dumped out of sight.

---

Back inside the ship...

Han, Clara, and Aiden—now dressed in full enforcer gear—walked confidently toward the control deck of the ship.

Step one of "Mission: Impossible" was complete.



It had been the easiest part. What lay ahead would test their strength, wit, and resolve.

Unbeknownst to Han, however, a small oversight remained—his clothes which he’d discarded to avoid being identified. Inside the pocket, his phone vibrated softly.

The screen lit up.

Incoming Call – "Silver"

It rang... and rang... then stopped.

A new message appeared:

> "Serenya is in danger."

Han didn’t see it.

But his thoughts echoed clearly in that moment:

"Hold on, Ronan. We’re coming."

---

Meanwhile, in Serenya...

The city was in chaos. The air itself felt poisoned with fear and darkness. Following a commander’s strategic order, guild members had split up and spread throughout the city—dividing their forces to divide the enemy.

It was their only chance.

The cursed beings were ruthless, coordinated, and merciless. But what truly tipped the scale was the arrival of the Dark Emissaries.

Not one.

Two.

And they weren’t here to negotiate.

Across the chaos-ridden city, several elite members of the guild fought tooth and nail against the Red Vanguard.

The battle was fierce. Blades clashed, energy flashed, and screams echoed through smoke-filled streets. Even with superior numbers, the guild forces were struggling—badly.

"We need support over here!" a young man in a tattered Tryst Guild uniform yelled, deflecting a searing red projectile just inches from his face.

His armor was bloodied, body shaking from fatigue. Across from him, a Red Vanguard agent with unsettling holes along his fingers raised both hands. From the holes, glowing crimson bullets blasted forth—ten at a time, moving faster than the eye could track. Each shot was precise, lethal.

They had been holding the line—until two guild members dropped, clean shots to the head. No time to scream. No time to blink.

"Can’t the executives help?!" another guild member shouted desperately, parrying two bullets that nearly took off his arm.

But deep down, they knew the answer.

Two monsters—far worse than the Red Vanguard—were already in the city.

Only the executives had the power to keep them in check. The rest? They were on their own.

"If only the young master were here..." one of the fighters whispered through clenched teeth, barely dodging another bullet.

Things looked grim. The Red Vanguard agent aimed again, fingers flaring with deadly light, ten crimson shots hurtling toward the heads of the already-wounded guild team—

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

The bullets were halted midair—not by shields, not by luck, but by black battlesuits laced with glowing blue stripes.

Version 1.0 battle mechs— not the most advanced, but piloted by brave mid-rank guild members who had rushed to the frontlines.

"Reinforcements reporting in!" one of the pilots shouted.

The wounded guild members nodded, rallying with renewed vigor. Together with the mech support, they pushed forward, forcing the Red Vanguard to retreat.

And it wasn’t just here. Across Serenya, nearly twenty 1.0 battle mechs joined the fray. For the first time that day...

Hope returned.

---

Elsewhere, three guild members patrolled the ruined streets, searching for any remaining enemies.

Then they saw him.

A figure strolled casually through the war-torn avenue, as if untouched by the destruction around him. He wore sleek, dark armor. His ashen hair moved with the wind.

Two of the guild members turned pale.

Without a word, they ran.

The third looked at them, confused.

"Wait—what are you doing? Isn’t that an enemy?! Shouldn’t we attack?"

They spun around and stared at him like he was insane. Then, without speaking, they pointed upward—above the ash-haired man.

The third turned to look.

He froze.

Floating ominously above the stranger were several massive metallic spheres.

One of those exact balls had devastated half a district just an hour ago. Its power was absurd. Catastrophic. The sight alone made the third member’s legs buckle. Sweat poured down his back.

Just looking at those balls felt like staring death in the eyes.

Metallo, the ash-haired man, noticed them.

With a friendly wave, he called out,

"Hello there!"

His tone was polite—almost cheerful—but to the guild members, it sounded like the devil had just greeted them personally.

They ran. Hard.

Because they understood one thing: their lives genuinely depended on it.

Metallo tilted his head.

"Weird... why are they running?"

Then he looked up at the floating spheres.

Click.

A smile twisted across his face.

"Oh. Right."



He raised one hand lazily.

"You want one? Catch."

With a flick of his wrist, one of the spheres shot forward, whistling through the air like a meteor. It smashed into the ground with a thunderous BOOM, then started rolling forward—fast.

The fleeing guild members turned just in time to see it barreling toward them.

Their screams never finished.

SPLAT.

The ball crushed them effortlessly and rolled on, smashing buildings, tearing through concrete like paper.

Metallo watched the destruction unfold, hands behind his back.

He chuckled dryly.

"Oops. Guess they couldn’t catch it."

---

To be continued...