——[Sanctuary in Shadows.]
Shawn's heart pounded like a war drum, each beat a deafening reminder of his predicament. Every breath carried the weight of inevitability.
William—no, Dan—stood before him, a cold, calculating smile carved into his face, his gaze sharp as a dagger.
Around him, the black-clad figures moved in silent unison, their presence suffocating, their steps ghost-like. Shadows incarnate. The very air seemed to coil tighter with their every motion, pressing against Shawn's chest like an invisible snare.
His fingers brushed against the Thunder Arcane Core at his chest.
It pulsed beneath his touch—a familiar hum of power. But against five trained adversaries, it was woefully insufficient.
And beyond them, an even greater danger loomed—his family. Vulnerable. Exposed.
Dan's voice sliced through the silence, smooth as silk, laced with venom.
"Do you know, Shawn, how easy it would be to tear this world apart?" He tilted his head, as if pondering something amusing. "The power we seek is already within our grasp, thanks to the Arcane Cores. But there's one missing."
He stepped closer, slow and deliberate. His breath, icy as death, ghosted against Shawn's skin.
"You. You must join us."
Shawn's jaw clenched.
Words were useless—Dan had already won this standoff. Every escape route was cut off, every avenue of reason long extinguished.
Then—
A flicker of movement.
A shift in the darkness. A shadow flitting through the trees, too fast to be natural.
The air changed.
The black-clad figures hesitated. Their perfect formation wavered, uncertainty rippling through them like cracks in glass.
And then—chaos.
A blur erupted from the forest.
Figures clad in gray materialized from the night like living specters, their movements impossibly fluid, their robes billowing like smoke.
No heavy armor.
No clanking steel.
Only silence.
Only precision.
The first strike was nearly invisible—a whisper of motion before one of the black-clad men staggered back, his breath caught in his throat.
No cry. No warning. He collapsed.
The others reacted instantly, blades unsheathing in a synchronized flash of steel. But their formation was already broken.
One of the gray-cloaked figures stepped forward—older, his face lined with time, yet his eyes burned with unwavering intensity. Symbols shimmered faintly across his robes—M.O.S—ancient markings pulsing with quiet power.
In his hand, he held a staff. At its peak, an insignia gleamed in the moonlight—a perfect circle enclosing a sharp "V."
Shawn barely had time to register it before the man raised the staff—
And the world shattered.
A force unlike anything Shawn had ever felt exploded outward.
It wasn't the raw, unstable energy of the Arcane Cores.
This was something older.
Something deeper.
Something primal.
The very earth seemed to awaken.
The black-clad men reeled, their faces paling, their footing faltering as if gravity itself had turned against them.
The air twisted, bending to the will of this unseen force.
Shawn staggered, the pressure crushing the breath from his lungs.
But before he could fall, a firm hand gripped his arm—steady, unwavering.
"Come with us. Now."
Shawn hesitated—just for a second—then ran.
Instinct overruled doubt.
The gray-cloaked warriors moved like shadows dissolving into the night, guiding him into the trees.
A final flicker of motion—
Dan was gone.
No trace.
No sound.
Just emptiness where he had stood moments before.
The older man's gaze lingered on the space, unreadable.
"They'll be back," he murmured. "But we won't let them find you."
---
The path through the forest was treacherous. Twisted roots and uneven terrain conspired to slow them down. Yet the gray-cloaked warriors never faltered.
Their steps were deliberate, their movements precise—like ghosts retracing a familiar path.
Shawn struggled to keep pace, his body screaming in protest, his mind a storm of unanswered questions.
Who were these people?
Why had they saved him?
After what felt like an eternity, the trees parted.
An ancient structure loomed in the moonlight, hidden deep within the wilderness.
Laozi Palace.
Shawn barely found the strength to take it in.
Towering stone walls, etched with symbols beyond his understanding, stood untouched by time. The structure exuded a quiet reverence, as if it had existed long before history itself. Lanterns burned softly at the entrance, their golden glow stretching into the darkness.
The group halted in the clearing. The older man turned to Shawn.
"Rest," he said simply. "You are safe for now."
Safe.
The word barely registered.
The weight of the past hour bore down on him—the Arcane Cores, William's betrayal, the black-clad assassins, and now these enigmatic warriors who had intervened.
A woman stepped forward, dark hair pulled into a simple knot. Though young, her gaze carried the weight of experience—a quiet strength that contrasted the chaos Shawn had just escaped.
She handed him a small pouch.
"Drink this. It will help steady your nerves."
Shawn hesitated.
His instincts screamed no.
But exhaustion won.
He uncorked the pouch and drank.
The liquid burned—bitter, unfamiliar—but almost instantly, the fog in his mind cleared. The dizziness faded.
The older man's voice carried a new weight.
"We are the Origin Wardens. We protect those connected to the Arcane Cores."
Shawn's pulse quickened.
"What do you know about the Cores?"
The older man studied him before answering.
"The Cores are not mere relics. They are the keys to unlocking a power beyond imagination—a force that could reshape the world itself." His expression darkened. "But they are also a weapon. A weapon that must not fall into the wrong hands."
The woman stepped closer.
"You were marked for death, Shawn. Those who hunt the Cores—the O.S.S—will not stop until they have them all. William is not just a collector. He is one of them."
The name sent a chill through him.
The O.S.S.
It carried the weight of something mysterious, something ruthless. Like the black-clad enforcers of a forgotten regime, or the ghost of an intelligence agency that never officially existed. But unlike them, the O.S.S. did not serve a nation.
It served something else. Something unseen.
It felt like something ripped from a nightmare.
Shawn opened his mouth—then closed it.
Then—
A gray-cloaked figure guided him into a concealed chamber within the temple. The stone walls were etched with symbols, pulsing faintly with light, whispering of secrets buried in time.
He stepped inside, his thoughts racing.
The answers he had sought for so long…
They were finally within reach.
But first—
He had to survive the night.