The robotic sound was deafening and loud, shaking the air.

The gazes of Erion and every single person in the expansive hall snapped toward the hallway where the noise had come from, their expressions hardening.

Every warrior in the room instinctively readied themselves, weapons drawn and auras flaring to life.

This wasn’t just any sound; it was a familiar one, everyone of them had the same artifact and knew that robotic sound. Despite having seen no real action for five long years, their battle honed instincts remained razor sharp.

The atmosphere in the hall shifted dramatically.

They were the Obsidian Order’s main fighting force— warriors who thrived on combat, completely addicted to the thrill of the fight.

The years of inactivity hadn’t dulled their edge but rather kept them hungry, eager to unleash their pent up energy.

Now, to think that an intruder had actually attacked them? The hunger was palpable.

Before anyone could make a move, a sudden, oppressive wave radiated from the hallway, washing over them like a tidal wave.

The air grew heavy, and an eerie stillness settled over the hall. Erion and his crew, along with a few of the more perceptive members, instinctively turned their gazes upward, their senses heightened.

Erion’s eyes narrowed, his instincts kicking in. He could feel it— a subtle yet unmistakable shift in the atmosphere, as if the very air had thickened. He figured out the reason instantly

Outside, enveloping the entire enormous building, an air barrier had formed, sealing them all inside.

…

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“Hm?”

“What?” Alvis asked, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Ronad had suddenly stop mid sentence, his gaze fixed at one direction.

Ronad simply brushed it off with a grin. “It’s nothing. Those kids must be having fun.”

Ronad was an air elementalist and he had felt a change in the air, a slight disturbance that make him feel that something was happening on the east side of the village.

But the idea that anyone could breach the abyssal chasm, let alone enter the artifact, was completely absurd. Something he wouldn’t even dream of. Alvis would have detected any unauthorized use of the ring, and the loyalty of their members was absolute—they made sure of that.

Still, Alvis followed Ronad’s gaze, but no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn’t detect anything. Perception had never been his strong suit, and the distance was very considerable.

“Back to our matter! Tell me when!” Ronad demanded, shaking off the unsettling feeling.

Alvis sighed inwardly. ‘Fucking idiot,’ he thought, but something gnawed at the back of his mind, a lingering sense of unease.

He turned again toward the spot Ronad had been staring at. ‘Why do I have this bad feeling?’ he wondered. But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Ronad’s incessant pestering.

…

Suddenly, the hallway exploded with noise as multiple figures, or what looked like bodies, were violently hurled back, crashing into the walls with brutal force.

The sound of men shouting and screaming echoed through the hallways, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh being sliced open, punctuated by the dull thuds of lifeless bodies hitting the floor.

It was happening all around them, at a terrifying speed— first on the ground floor, then the next, and the next, in a rapid, circular pattern around them.

“Erion,” called the katana wielding crew member, Kellack, his voice still cold but filled with urgency and seriousness. He turned to Erion, along with the others, waiting for his orders.

But Erion was already deep in thought, his mind racing.

‘It’s just one person… and he’s strong,’ he realized.

The speed, the precision— it was almost surreal. Erion could sense it, even if many others couldn’t. This intruder was moving at an insane speed, phasing through walls as if they were made of water, dispatching anyone he encountered with mind numbing efficiency.

‘He’s trying to kill the people in the room before coming to us,’

It didn’t take long for Erion to figure this out. Considering the situation, it was obvious that the intruder hadn’t expected for his presence to be found out and was trying to cover up.

Erion tensed slightly. ‘He’s almost as fast as me,’ he thought, his pulse quickening.

‘How did an intruder enter the artifact without Master knowing about it? What’s his goal?’ Erion’s mind buzzed with questions, each one demanding careful consideration before he could make a move. The strength of the intruder was startling and he wanted to tread carefully.

‘Separating now would be a bad idea considering that speed. He’s not a grandmaster which means we should be able to take care of him,’

Meanwhile, the others in the hall were growing restless. Weapons were drawn, auras flared, and battle cries filled the air as they brandished their weapons.

“Let’s go get that bastard!” one shouted, his voice dripping with anger. frёewebnoѵēl.com

“Attack!” another yelled, eager for the fight.

But before they could charge forward, Erion’s calm, authoritative voice cut through the noise. “Maintain your positions. He’ll come to us.”

His crew members immediately obeyed, their loyalty to Erion was absolute. But the others were reluctant, their anger and pride was clashing with their desire for revenge.

The sounds of their comrades dying all around them only fueled their rage. It wasn’t about camaraderie; it was about pride—someone had dared to attack them, the Obsidian Order.

But despite their seething anger, they held their ground. Erion was the strongest among them, and his word was law.

As the seconds ticked by, the hall fell into a tense silence, broken only by the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoing from one of the hallways.

Every eye in the room turned toward the entrance, hearts pounding as the figure approached. The tension was almost suffocating.

A figure came into full view, clad in a completely black exo-suit, with a red shroud covering his face.

His entire body was drenched in crimson blood, which dripped soundlessly from the morphed sword in his arm.

He moved slowly, unhurriedly, despite the fact that nearly 300 battle-hardened men and women, all of them at least master- rank, had their gazes and auras locked onto him.

Erion’s eyes narrowed as he quickly assessed the situation. ‘A master- rank? How is this possible? And that exo-suit…’