The sun never touched this part of the ruins—an abandoned transport depot buried beneath a mountain ridge. Cold air clung to the ground, thick and unmoving. My breath misted in the silence as I stood alone, watching shadows stretch across the broken concrete.
Mission was simple. On paper.
Capture a high-tier fugitive hiding out here. No backup. No squad. Just me.
Zach's ceremony was too important. Team One needed to be there, sharp and unified. Someone had to keep our merit steady, and if that someone had to take the hard job alone? Plus to me this is vacation.
I rolled my shoulders and exhaled."Let's get this over with."
He emerged from the dark like a boss monster spawning late. Big guy. Muscular. Matte red armor. Scar through one eye. Every step he took sounded like a challenge.
High-tier operative. Essence type unknown. Domain confirmed Level Two—possibly bordering Level Three.
"You Organization brats really think you're untouchable, huh?" he growled, stepping forward like I was already on the floor. "Should've brought friends."
I cracked my neck, still sore from wiping out his underlings. "Didn't want to embarrass you."
We both activated our domains almost at the same time. The depot trembled around us—two forces colliding hard enough to make the air feel thin. My pressure flared. His power surged back. It wasn't subtle.
The fight was fast. Clean. Dangerous. A blur of momentum and missed death. He was sharper than expected—too strong to break quickly, too mobile to corner. Every opening I found, he sealed. Every time I pressed in, he answered back. And the bastard had stamina.
I was holding back. Chaos still untapped. Not ideal.
Then I noticed something worse.
We weren't alone anymore.
From the ridgeline above, I felt them before I saw them—half a dozen new signatures lighting up in quick succession. Ambush. Coordinated. Armed. Mid-to-high tier backup, from the feel of it.
I slid behind a broken beam just as a spear of essence tore through where my chest used to be.
"Cute," I muttered, eyes narrowing. My hand drifted toward my sword.
And then the whole world just… paused.
Not from fear. Not from pressure. Something else. Something bigger.
It was like the air itself recoiled.
A weight hit the battlefield—no domain trigger, no announcement, no signature. Just presence. And when it landed, you knew. Every single one of them froze. One dropped his weapon with a clatter that echoed too loud for comfort.
She had arrived.
The Fortune Keeper.
Her heels tapped once on fractured concrete. That was all. No fanfare. No theatrics. Just absolute control. She wasn't even using a Level Three domain—just her Level Two, folded so tightly into her essence it distorted the space around her. Reality itself respected her.
Three of the ambushers dropped to a knee. The high-tier fugitive didn't speak. I don't think he could.
I stepped aside. Instinct.
She didn't look at him. She barely looked at me. Her voice cut through the cold like heat.
"I heard there'd be a battle. But I see a misunderstanding."
The fugitive raised a hand, voice trembling. "I—this wasn't—"
"You should run," she said flatly. "But I wouldn't."
They didn't.
They couldn't.
She didn't raise a finger. Didn't even blink aggressively. Her presence alone shut the whole fight down.
That's what she was. A walking disaster. One of the top seven powers in the world. The kind of person who didn't fight wars. She ended them by showing up.
She turned to me, brushing off my collar like we were at brunch. "You're holding back."
"I wanted to see how far I could take it alone," I admitted.
She smiled faintly. "That's cute. Let's not make that a habit."
And with that, she turned away like the entire field wasn't still silent with fear.
"Oh," she added over her shoulder. "I'll be attending the Breaker Clan's ceremony. A little public reminder that the Fortunes stand with them."
Then she walked off—heels clicking, power humming around her like a storm politely waiting to be asked in.
Mission complete. But no one who'd write the report would believe how.