The victory achieved by the discord sown within the Purple Dawn Clan left a strange taste in Do-hyun's mouth. It was an undeniable tactical success, but he felt sullied. Playing with lies and manipulation, even against such ruthless enemies, felt like a betrayal of one's parents' memory. Would they, the idealistic scientists, have endorsed such methods?
This thought gnawed at him during his training sessions. As he performed a series of hand-to-hand movements in the simulator, his mind wandered.
"True power is not in destruction, but in creation." Her mother's words, heard in stone's memory, returned to her with painful force. Create what, in this world of darkness and betrayal? Create more lies? No more cunning?
His distraction was punished. A level 3 vampire in the simulation took advantage of an opening and thrust his claws into his shoulder. The virtual pain, though simulated, was intense enough to bring him back brutally to reality.
[Virtual injury: RIGHT shoulder.]
[Scenario completed: FAILURE.]
[CAUSE: Lack of concentration.]
Do-hyun collapsed to his knees, panting, sweat dripping down his face. It was not physical pain that struck him down, but doubt.
"You have your head elsewhere," commented Soo-ah's calm voice from the entrance to the training room. She looked at him with her arms crossed, her expression both concerned and analytical.
They wanted to create a tool to restore balance, Soo-ah. Not to become a master at the art of betrayal," he whispered without looking at her.
She approached and squatted down near him. "Your parents lived in a world idealized by research. We live in the sewers of war. You don't fight monsters with white gloves without getting dirty. Kwan changed the rules first. We just adapted our game."
"Is that a reason to become like them?" he retorted, finally looking up at her. "To use fear and manipulation as his main weapons?"
"That's a reason to survive," she simply replied. "And to protect your sister. Moral purity is a luxury we no longer have, Do-hyun. Not since your parents died. Not since the system chose you."
His words, though harsh, echoed with cruel truth. The world was not black or white. It was gray, a dirty, deep gray, and to navigate it, you had to agree to get your hands dirty.
Meanwhile, Ji-eun, far from being traumatized by his new role, seemed to draw new strength from it. It had become a spectrum in networks, a weaving of digital illusions. She followed the repercussions of their disinformation operation with the cold satisfaction of a strategist who saw his plan unfold perfectly.
"Gorath, the traditionalist, publicly defied Kwan's authority at a Council meeting," she announced one evening, her eyes shining in front of her screens. "He withdrew his troops from the territories they jointly controlled. The Clan is effectively divided into two factions now."
"Great news," Min-ho commented without looking up from the weapon he was meticulously cleaning. "A divided threat is a weakened threat."
"But that doesn't solve the underlying problem," Do-hyun recalled as he stood up, stretching to untie the tense muscles in his back. "Kwan always knows about Ji-eun. And as long as the Phoenix Heart exists, someone will look for it. The Guardian just paused him."
The Heart. The mythical artifact, the key to everything. Where was he now? Did the Guardian hide it in another dimension? On another planet? In a place so obvious that no one would see it?
An idea, crazy and sudden, struck Do-hyun.
"What if... what if the Guardian hadn't physically moved him?" he whispered, attracting everyone's attention.
"What do you mean?" asked Soo-ah.
He said it had to be "secure" and that the window was "compromised." What if "securing" didn't mean "moving it," but "locking it"? What if the Heart is still in Gwanghui-dong station, but inaccessible? Protected by a seal or force field that only the right "key" can open?"
Silence settled in the room, the idea making its way.
"It's possible," Min-ho admitted after a moment's reflection. "It would correspond to the modus operandi of a being who seems more concerned with rules and locks than with physical possession."
"But what would be the key?" asked Ji-eun. "You?" Your DNA?"
"Maybe," said Do-hyun. "Or maybe something more... abstract."
The memory of the mental ordeal that his father had mentioned came back to him. The Heart had to be deserved. Not just found.
"I have to go back there," he said.
"It's a potential trap," Min-ho immediately warns. "Kwan knows that this place matters to you. He might have set a trap there."
"Or he could avoid it, precisely because he thinks it's a trap for him after the old man's disappearance," Soo-ah countered. "The division within the Clan works in our favor. Kwan is too busy consolidating his power to watch over a place he believes is empty."
The risk was calculated, but it had to be taken. The inaction had become unbearable for Do-hyun. He had to move forward, understand, progress. Staying hidden wondering "what if" was eating away at him.
The preparations were much simpler this time. No elaborate infiltration, no complex decoy. Just quick, discreet recognition.
They returned to Gwanghui-dong station one moonless night a week later. The place was silent, dead. No vampiric signatures nearby. The clans, in the midst of the Cold War, had visibly abandoned this place, deeming it either too dangerous or uninteresting now.
They went down to level -4, where the Heart was supposed to be. The corridor leading to the vault was exactly as they had left it: empty, silent, and still imbued with this strange energy pressure.
But something had changed.
At the back of the room, in the very place where the Heart was to rest, was now a simple door. It was not made of metal or stone, but seemed made of solidified light, a cold, impersonal bluish white. She had no handle, no lock. Just a smooth, impenetrable surface.
On this door, a symbol was carved into the light: a stylized eye, wide open, whose pupil was a complex and moving geometric pattern.
[DETECTED ANOMALIA: ENERGY gate.]
[COMPOSITION: INCUNTERNED ENERGY, OF A NATURE Similar to that of the Guardian.]
[Access: Locked.]
[OPENING CONDITION: UNKNOWN.]
"The Guardian..." whispered Soo-ah.
He had preceded them. He had not moved the Heart. He had locked it in a dimensional safe, right under their feet.
Do-hyun approached the door. He felt a weak vibration emanating from her, an energy that was both familiar and foreign to him. He raised his hand, hesitating, and then placed it on the smooth surface.
The door was cold, like ice, but it was not burning. No reaction.
"Maybe the key is you," Ji-eun suggested via the earpiece, from the base. "Try your energy."
Do-hyun concentrated his Phoenix energy and channeled it into his hand. The golden light radiated from his palm, coming into contact with the white door.
Nothing happened.
He tried the Blade of Light, knocking on the door with the flat of the blade. The energy dispersed without effect.
He tried to talk, to beg, to challenge. The door remained impassive.
Frustrated, he stepped back, examining the eye symbol.
"It's not a physical or energetic key," he suddenly realized. "It's an enigma. A test."
The eye looked at him, impassive. The geometric pattern in the pupil was constantly changing, like a moving code.
"System, analyze this symbol. Search for patterns, sequences."
[ANSIS ANISTALY IN CURRENT...]
[Symbol: GUARDIAN'S EYE.]
[FUNCTION: TEST INTERFACE.]
[THE MOTIF IN THE PUPILLE IS A ENERGY Puzzle IN CONSTANT EVOLUTION.]
[To unlock the door, the user must reconstitute the PRIMORDIAL MOTIF by channeling his energy according to the correct sequence.]
[Penalty for a Bad Attempt: Energy Release (Potential Serious Injury).]
Do-hyun reported the information to others.
"A puzzle..." repeated Min-ho, looking intrigued in spite of himself. "It fits the profile. The Guardian doesn't want to prevent access, he wants to filter it. Only someone who is sufficiently perceptive and master of his energy can enter."
"You can do it, Do-hyun," Soo-ah encouraged. "Your control has improved a lot."
Do-hyun looked at the eye. The pattern changed rapidly, a complex dance of lines and shapes. The "primordial pattern" was to be the basic form, the key hidden in this chaos.
He closed his eyes, emptying his mind. He let the stream of Phoenix energy flow through him, not as a weapon, but as a sensitive fluid, an extension of his will.
Then he opened his eyes and stared at the puzzle.
The hours passed. Do-hyun sat cross-legged in front of the door, in a trance, his fingers sometimes drawing shapes in the air as he tried to follow and decipher the sequence. Sweat beaded on his forehead. The mental effort was colossal. Once, he attempted a sequence, and a flash of blue energy pushed him away, burning his fingers.
[Slight injury: HANDS.]
[PV: 75/80.]
He was not discouraged. He began again. Observe. Understand. Feeling.
It wasn't just a visual puzzle. It was a test of synchronization, of understanding fundamental energy flows. The Guardian was testing his ability to perceive order in chaos, harmony in disorder.
As the night drew to a close, and fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, he finally saw. It wasn't a complex form. It was simple. A perfect circle crossed by a straight line. The most basic representation of balance. Stability in the middle of perpetual motion.
He raised his hand, his fingers trembling with fatigue, and channeled his energy. He did not shine a blinding light. He emitted a simple filament of pure gold, fine and precise as a master's brush.
He drew the circle in the air in front of the pupil, then the straight line that ran through it.
The moving pattern in the eye froze. Then he transformed, marrying exactly the shape that Do-hyun had drawn.
A silent click, which seemed to come from the bowels of reality itself, resounded.
The door of light faded, not as it opened, but as it disappeared, revealing the interior of the vault.
There was no sparkling Phoenix Heart. Instead, on a small stone altar, there was a single object: a perfectly transparent crystal, the size of a fist, inside which danced a tiny golden flame.
And next to the crystal, a parchment.
Do-hyun entered, his heart beating. He took the parchment. The words were written in a language he did not know, but the System translated them immediately.
To the heir who saw the balance,
"Fire is given, but power is not.
The seed of the Phoenix contains its essence.
But to grow, she needs a garden.
"Find the land of Zenith, where shadow and light dance without touching each other.
There, and only there, will the tree be able to bloom.
"The Guardian is watching."
Do-hyun looked at the crystal. The "seed of the Phoenix." It wasn't the Heart. It was his embryo. The Guardian had not returned power to them. He had given them an even greater responsibility.
The Heart had to be cultivated. Nouri. And for that, they had to find a mythical place: the land of the Zenith.
The quest had just taken a whole new direction. They were no longer hunters. They were gardeners of cosmic power.
And somewhere in the shadows, Do-hyun felt that the Guardian was watching them, waiting to see what they would do with this seed of hope and destruction.