——[The Deception Unfolds - When Allies Become Enemies]
Shawn barely slept.
The parchment map lay on his desk, its faded ink lines seared into his mind like a brand.
The "X" marked a location he knew too well—Dao Source Park, home to the ancient Laozi Palac, where the founder of Taoism was said to have attained enlightenment.
It couldn't be a coincidence.
By dawn, his decision was made.
Saturday morning arrived, crisp and bright.
Shawn hopped onto his bike, the wind whipping against his face as he sped through the waking city. The urban sprawl gradually surrendered to towering cypress trees and moss-covered stone pathways, the air thickening with the scent of damp earth and aged incense.
He entered through the East Gate, passing weathered Taoist statues—their eroded faces watching him with hollow eyes—and stone tablets engraved with passages from the Tao Te Ching.
The park should have felt serene, but Shawn sensed something else—a low, electric hum, like the breath of a slumbering beast.
The map had led him to a pavilion by the lake.
And someone was already waiting.
---
A lone elderly man, draped in deep blue robes, sat on a stone bench, his silver hair combed back in perfect order. His fingers traced idle circles on the surface of the water, sending ripples across the glassy expanse.
As Shawn approached, the man turned, his eyes sharp—too sharp for his age.
"Sit ," he commanded, his voice smooth yet oddly familiar. "I 'm William. We have much to discuss."."
Shawn hesitated, but the weight of the Thunder Arcane Core beneath his shirt pulsed, as if urging him forward. He took a seat.
Without another word, William reached into his robe and produced a photograph, sliding it across the stone table.
It showed a purple jade pendant, its surface carved with intricate, swirling patterns—identical in design to Shawn's own Thunder Core, but thrumming with a different energy.
Wind Arcane Core.
Shawn's breath hitched. He had heard this before—Quinne had mentioned it .
"Is this yours?"Shawn asked, unable to mask his eagerness.
William chuckled, shaking his head. "No. But its wielder is close."
Shawn frowned. "Where?"
William gestured toward the lake. "On the island."
---
A lone rowboat, half-hidden by reeds, bobbed near the shore. Shawn climbed in, the wood groaning under his weight. The oars creaked as he pushed off, the water unnervingly still beneath him.
As he neared the island, mist coiled over the surface like spectral fingers, curling toward the sky. Ancient trees loomed ahead, their gnarled roots twisting through moss-covered rocks like the veins of some primordial creature.
The place was too quiet.
Shawn stepped onto the shore, leaves crunching underfoot.
Had the old man lied?
Then—movement.
From the shadows of the trees, a tall figure in white robes emerged. His garments flowed like drifting clouds, and around his neck hung the very pendant from the photograph—the Wind Arcane Core.
Shawn's pulse spiked.
The man studied him with an amused tilt of his head. "You seek the Arcane Cores," he said, voice smooth, practiced.
Shawn nodded cautiously.
"And you believe you understand their purpose?"
Shawn's fingers tightened around his hidden pendant. "I know they're keys to something ancient. And I know they're more than relics—they have power."
The man smiled. "You know enough to be dangerous."
"I need to find the others."
"Do you?" The man's tone was light, but his gaze was razor-sharp. "Then tell me… what lies hidden within the Wind Core?"
Shawn's mind raced. Every Arcane Core bore an invisible engraving, visible only under certain conditions.
For the Wind Core—it was a rooster.
This was a test.
Shawn feigned ignorance. "I… haven't seen it myself. What is it?"
The man hesitated. His fingers brushed the pendant. "It is… a symbol of ancient power,"he said vaguely.
Shawn's stomach twisted. He's lying.
Before he could react, his gaze flicked downward—to the man's exposed wrist.
There, inked into his skin, was a line of curling script:
"O.S.S"
Shawn's blood turned to ice.
He shot to his feet—but the man in white moved faster.
A dagger slid from his sleeve, its blade etched with serpentine runes. "Leaving so soon?"he purred.
Then—a slow clap echoed through the clearing.
Shawn whirled.
From the trees, five figures clad in black stepped forward, their movements synchronized, predatory. Their faces were obscured by onyx masks, their gloved hands gripping curved blades that shimmered with an eerie, violet light.
At the center of the circle stood the old man from the pavilion—William.
The warmth in his eyes had vanished, his kindly facade crumbling like ash. In its place, a cold, razor-sharp smirk.
"Did you truly believe you were the only one hunting the Cores?"
Shawn's fists tightened, his nails digging into his palms. "What do you want?"
William sighed, a slow, deliberate sound, as if the question itself bored him. "Everything." His voice was soft, almost amused. "Your Core. Your cooperation. And your silence."
Shawn's jaw locked. "And if I refuse?"
William's smile didn't falter. He simply snapped his fingers.
A masked figure stepped forward, reaching into his coat. A flick of the wrist, and a single photograph fluttered to the ground.
Shawn's stomach dropped.
His parents.
Standing in front of their herbal shop. Smiling. Unaware they were being watched. Hunted.
His breath hitched.
Then, William reached up—and tore off his mask.
Shawn's world tilted.
Dan.
The face beneath the mask wasn't that of an old man. It was his classmate. His friend.
"You… You were William?" His voice was barely a whisper.
Dan—William—smirked, stepping closer. "Did you really think I'd stay in your shadow forever?"
The Thunder Core burned against Shawn's chest, its energy crackling like a caged storm.
He was outnumbered. Outarmed.
But if they thought he'd break? If they thought he'd kneel?
They were wrong.
They wanted a storm?
Fine.
He'd give them a hurricane.