The crash didn't sound like any landing, it was more like an explosion.
Out of the bleak grey sky, two escape pods, battered by magma and impossible pressure, tore downward and slammed against the icy shelf of the Northern Wasteland. They gouged deep, ragged scars into the permafrost, sending up arcs of half-frozen slush before smashing into the foot of a jagged, coal-black mountain.
Scalding steam burst from the hot metal, shrouding everything in a choking fog that stank of sulfur and raw ozone.
Then, the wind took control. It ripped through the mountain peaks, yanking away any lingering warmth in a matter of seconds.
One of the hatches blew open.
Lens clambered out of the scorched crater, dragging himself onto the ice. He toppled straight into a snowdrift, every breath scraping harshly in his chest, like working a bellows with a puncture. The cold was an assault, a hammer after the steam and fire of the abyss.
"I hate... abrupt climate changes," he panted, rolling onto his back to glare at the storm-swollen sky.
"Thermal shock. Bad for the joints. Bad for the soul."
Forcing himself upright, his mechanical arm protested with a sluggish whine, its servos refusing to cooperate in the bitter cold. He glanced at the second pod, which was wedged deep in the ice, silent.
"Verdict."
Silence.
He scrambled over the slick ground, slipping twice before reaching the sniper's pod. Metal fingers clawed into the seam; Lens wrenched the hatch open.
Inside, Verdict looked like a corpse, face blue, breaths faint and shallow, hands gripping a lead-lined box so tightly it would take dynamite to pry them off.
"Wake up," Lens barked, slapping Verdict's frostbitten cheek. "We're here. You can walk yourself."
Verdict's eyes finally fluttered open, unfocused and glassy.
"The box," he rasped.
"I see it. You're obsessed. Now move."
"My legs... gone."
"They're not gone, just numb. Get up."
Verdict made the effort, failed, and slumped back, groaning.
Lens surveyed the frozen wasteland.
The Order of the Broken Horizon had no patience for weakness. There were twelve shadows, if you broke, you fixed yourself, or you simply got replaced.
"Fine," Lens muttered, tightening his goggles.
"I do the thinking and the lifting. Really ought to get double pay."
He cranked the overdrive gears in his mechanical arm, earning a high-pitched whine from the servos. He seized Verdict's harness and dragged him out, dumping the man on the ice.
"Walk, crawl, doesn't matter. Just head for those rocks," he growled.
With his good hand he hefted the heavy lead box, and with his mechanical arm, he shouldered most of Verdict's weight. Inch by inch, they forced themselves toward the base of the looming, sheer cliff of black granite.
There was no door. No visible gate. Just a flawless wall of ancient stone.
At a nondescript crack in the rock, Lens stopped. He pressed his artificial palm to the freezing surface.
A pale blue scan flickered across his hand.
Clack. Hiss.
Instead of sliding aside, the rock face simply melted away, an ancient illusion swallowing itself and revealing a dark, polished tunnel boring into the mountain's depths.
The two men collapsed through the entrance.
The wind vanished instantly. Deep silence filled the space, crushing, absolute, and thick with the scent of dust that hadn't moved in a millennium.
"We made it," Lens whispered, sliding down against the wall.
Lens glanced over at Verdict. The sniper was out cold again, but at least his breathing had steadied, thanks, no doubt, to the base's ambient energy patching him up.
"Stay put," Lens murmured, giving Verdict's shoulder a quick pat. "I'll let the boss know we made it. Try not to bleed everywhere. This place doesn't need more stains."
Tucking the lead box under his arm, Lens straightened his uniform, wiping away smears of oil and blood as best he could. Then he stepped further into the darkness.
The Silent Citadel wasn't a fortress; it was something even more unsettling, a cathedral built for a dead god.
Long, arched corridors stretched out before him, vast and silent. Cold white lights lined the floors, marking the way forward. There were no guards stationed, no servants bustling about. Varian didn't allow distractions.
Lens's footsteps echoed sharply, swallowed by the emptiness.
At last, he reached the central chamber. A towering circular door, marked by the emblem of the Broken Horizon: a circle fractured into three jagged pieces—barred his way.
As he drew near, the door slid open without a whisper.
The throne room was cavernous, its ceiling lost somewhere in the darkness. The floor was polished black stone, so smooth it mirrored everything above, except the shadows.
In the room's heart, lit by a single shaft of pale light, stood a throne of white marble.
And upon it sat the Saint.
Varian was draped in simple white robes that seemed to drink up the light. His silver hair spilled over the floor, gleaming like molten metal. He sat perfectly still, hands resting gently on either side of his throne.
At the center of his chest shone the Echo Compass, a strange device of brass and crystal, pulsing softly to an unhurried beat—almost like a second heart.
The Hollow Saint. Level 96 Super Douluo.
He didn't look up. His attention was locked on a massive, floating projection of the continent, hovering in the air before him.
"You rattle when you walk, Lens," Varian said, his voice soft and melodic, yet heavy enough to thin the very air.
Lens bowed low, forehead nearly touching the cold stone. "My apologies, Saint. The Guardian… it put up a fight. Planetary-class thermal engine. Verdict's out of commission."
"And the prize?"
"Right here."
Lens climbed the steps and set the lead-lined box carefully on a waiting pedestal.
Varian finally turned.
His face was hauntingly beautiful, features too perfect to be real. But his eyes weren't normal, they shone like mirrors, polished silver with no pupils or irises. Lens saw his own frightened reflection staring back at him in the Saint's gaze.
Varian laid a pale hand atop the box.
"Open it."
Lens undid the latch with trembling fingers.
A deep, ferocious red light spilled across the room, its heat exploding into the air. It warped and twisted the atmosphere around it, but Varian didn't so much as flinch. Calm and deliberate, he reached forward and pulled the Abyssal Forge from the box.
It pulsed like a molten heart, a geometric core of lava and gleaming metal, alive with the fury of the ocean's boiling depths.
"Warm," Varian muttered, his voice low, almost reverent.
The Compass embedded in his chest spun like a cyclone, responding to the Artifact's energy field. It vibrated in harmony, resonating with the Forge.
"The heart of the ocean's fire," he whispered, a serene, almost demented glow shading his features. "With this, we step closer. One more piece to burn through the World's roots. To cauterize the wound."
He rose to his feet and strode toward the floating map. His movements were unhurried, as though time itself bowed to him. On the projection of the continent, a faint green light pulsed in the mountains: the Stone of Serenity.
Carefully, he placed the Abyssal Forge into a slot set into the console.
Ping.
Another light ignited on the map, this one submerged in the ocean's depths, glowing crimson.
"Two," Varian said softly, his hand brushing over the Compass. His voice carried the weight of inevitability. "Two keys to break the cage."
Then, his tone sharpened. "Now... we find the rest. The Echo does not lie."
The Compass thrummed with purpose. Its magic rippled out in an invisible wave, sweeping across the continent faster than thought, seeking the locations of the remaining Artifacts.
Lens stood to the side, nervously wiping the condensation from his goggles. "We should prioritize the Skyhaven Vault," he suggested.
"The logs indicate the Wind Artifact is secured there. Or perhaps... the Flesh Pit in the Sunset Forest? Shadow 4 still needs the biological samples."
Varian didn't respond.
He continued staring at the map, his mirrored eyes unreadable. The seconds bled together as the Compass pulsed faster, its hum climbing into higher and more frantic tones.
And then it stopped.
No signal.
Skyhaven remained dark. And so did the Sunset Forest.
The air in the room shifted. It wasn't just quiet anymore, it was oppressive.
"Saint?" Lens said hesitantly, his voice cracking. "Is... is the scanner damaged? Atmospheric interference, perhaps? That storm...."
"The scanner," Varian cut in, his voice barely above a whisper, "is flawless."
Slowly, he lifted one pale hand and touched the blank spot on the map where Skyhaven should have been.
"They're gone."
Lens frowned, his thoughts struggling to catch up. "Gone?" he repeated, disbelief heavy in his words. "That doesn't make sense. Artifacts are geological anchors...they don't just disappear. They can't."
"No," Varian murmured, his tone somber, dangerous.
"The energy is not dormant. It is absent. Someone has removed them."
The realization hit Lens like a punch to the gut, sending a deeper chill through him than any frost outside ever could. "But... that's impossible. The Compass is the only tool capable of tracking them. And only Mo Lin had the locations. There's no way anyone else could....."
"A variable," Varian interrupted.
His voice changed. The ethereal melody was gone, replaced by something harsh and grinding, like tectonic plates grinding against each other.
"Someone is tracing our steps, Lens," he growled. "And they are erasing the path."
Varian turned and returned to his throne, his grip on the stone armrests tightening until the cold marble cracked, filling the silence with a sharp snap.
"We underestimated the game," the Saint said quietly. His tone was colder than the ice fields outside. "We assumed we were the only players. We were blind."
Lens swallowed hard. "What... what do we do now?"
Varian's gaze locked on him, his tone leaving no room for hesitation. "We adapt. Wake the Spy. Wake the Saboteur."
His mirrored gaze shifted back to the map, zeroing in on the region of the Heaven Dou Empire.
"The Artifacts are not lost. Someone has hidden them. Find the one who moves unseen. Find the anomaly."
Leaning forward, his eyes pulsed with predatory intensity as they seemed to swallow the faint light around him.
"We're no longer collectors, Lens," Varian said, his voice dropping to an ominous murmur. "We're hunters."
---
Heaven Dou Imperial Academy
Morning sunlight poured in through the wide windows of Dormitory C, wrapping the room in its warm, golden glow.
Arthev stirred, opening his eyes reluctantly. He blinked against the brightness before pushing himself into a stretch that popped his joints one by one. The deep sleep had done its job, the pain behind his eyes from the Mangekyou backlash had faded entirely. He felt lighter now. Stronger.
Rising from the bed, he moved to the window and took in the academy grounds below. Students filled the walkways, heading to their classes, their laughter and chatter carried on the gentle breeze. The scene was idyllic, a vision of utter peace.
Arthev smiled.
He had everything. The Prince's unwavering trust. A secure key to the Library. And two priceless Artifacts tucked safely away in the pendant hanging at his chest. Everything was falling into place, exactly as planned.
Adjusting his uniform, Arthev gathered his books and stepped out the door.
He couldn't have known that, thousands of miles away, in the hollow heart of a mountain, a Mirror God had taken notice of him.
And marked him
To be continued...