Chapter 897: Part 1: Drage Family Chapter 897: Part 1: Drage Family Alpha City: The air hung heavy with tension as Simon and his team stepped back into the familiar yet alien environment of Alpha City.
The exhilaration of their mission had long since dissipated, replaced by a growing sense of dread.
A hushed conversation began to circulate among the group – a return to their respective families.
“I told you this would happen,” a grizzled veteran, his face etched with lines of experience, interjected, his voice cutting through the murmur.
“You shouldn’t have touched him.
Not only have you failed to eliminate Zack Lockwood, but now we’re all entangled in your mess.” His tone was a stark contrast to the earlier camaraderie.
The dam of suppressed emotions burst forth.
Accusations flew thick and fast, each member eager to voice their growing discontent.
“This is your fault, Simon,” one shouted, their voice trembling with anger.
Another, their face pale with fear, murmured, “We’re screwed.” The once tight-knit group was fracturing before their eyes.
Simon’s mind was a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.
A surge of anger coursed through him, but it was quickly eclipsed by a cold dread.
In his pursuit of glory, he had overlooked the potential consequences.
Now, with the realization that Zack Lockwood was still alive, he understood the gravity of their situation.
The rising star, backed by a powerful mentor, would undoubtedly seek vengeance.
“What are we going to do?” The question hung in the air, unspoken yet understood by all.
Simon’s thoughts raced.
Zack Lockwood was a legend in their world, a name whispered with both respect and fear.
His influence was vast, extending even to the highest echelons of power.
Simon doubted his family’s Great Elder, though a formidable Silver Mark Warrior, could withstand the pressure from the Federation Head if the matter escalated.
A flicker of hope ignited within him.
Perhaps, just perhaps, they could contain the damage.
If they could rally the support of multiple Silver Mark Warriors, their collective influence might deter Lockwood and his allies.
It was a long shot, but it was their only chance.
He turned to his team, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
“We need to contact our families and seek the protection of our elders.
If we can secure the backing of more than one Silver Mark Warrior, we might be able to weather this storm.” A collective sigh of relief washed over the group.
Simon’s plan offered a glimmer of hope.
Offending a Silver Mark Warrior was akin to challenging a behemoth, a risk no one was willing to take.
While they knew their families would likely face repercussions, they were prepared to accept the consequences.
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With renewed determination, the group exchanged solemn glances.
The road ahead was fraught with peril, but they were resolved to face it together.
Their immediate focus was clear: convince their elders of the gravity of the situation and secure their support.
…
Lowell Castle The imposing silhouette of Lowell Castle stood as a sentinel against the twilight sky.
Within its fortified walls, Jonathan, a man of quiet efficiency, occupied his time with a patience that belied the growing unease within.
His master’s absence stretched into days, and with each passing hour, the situation at the boundaries seemed to deepen in complexity.
Yet, a flicker of hope remained.
The unexpected presence of the Federation Head suggested a level of control over the volatile situation.
Perhaps, Jonathan thought, a resolution was imminent.
But even as this optimistic thought took root, another concern gnawed at him.
Zack Lockwood, the enigmatic figure at the heart of the recent turmoil, remained an unknown quantity.
Jonathan had his sources.
He knew Lockwood had retreated into the confines of his headquarters upon returning from his mission.
A calculated move, perhaps, or simply a need for recuperation.
Jonathan had half-expected a desperate attempt to extract information, a confrontation born of desperation.
But those expectations had remained unfulfilled.
Lockwood, it seemed, was playing his cards close to his chest.
A sigh escaped Jonathan’s lips as he leaned back in his chair, the weight of the world, or at least a significant portion of it, pressing down on him.
His reverie was abruptly interrupted by the shrill ring of his communicator.
The caller ID displayed a name that sent a jolt through him.
It was one of the Alpha City Teleportation Platform’s security guards.
A cold sense of anticipation crept over him as he answered.
What could possibly be so urgent that it required a direct call from security?
Jonathan’s mind raced as he brought the communicator to his ear.
“Soros,” he began, his voice low and controlled.
A brief pause as he gathered his thoughts, then, “What is it?” The guard’s voice, laced with urgency, broke through the line.
“Sir Jonathan, we’ve encountered a situation.
It’s…it’s suspicious.” A tense silence followed as the guard relayed the details of the encounter with Simon and his group.
Jonathan listened impassively, his face a mask of tranquility.
But beneath the calm exterior, a storm was brewing.
His eyes, usually so steady, flickered with a growing intensity.
The guard’s narrative painted a picture of a reckless attack, a blatant disregard for authority.
When the guard finally fell silent, Jonathan rose slowly from his chair, his movements deliberate.
A cold fury ignited within him.
“So, the young master was injured,” he murmured, his voice carrying a chilling undertone.
His mind flashed to Zack Lockwood, a man he had come to respect, a young warrior with an extraordinary talent.
To think that such a man had been subjected to such a cowardly attack was a personal affront.
As the guardian of Lowell Castle, he was the ultimate protector.
With Lowell absent, that responsibility fell squarely on his shoulders.
To allow harm to come to the young master was an unforgivable failure.
A lethal determination hardened his gaze.
“Soros, thank you for bringing this to my attention.
I will handle this.” With that, he terminated the call, the weight of the world, once again, resting on his shoulders.
A few minutes later, A Shadow Moves The imposing silhouette of Lowell Castle faded into the distance as Jonathan stepped into the cold embrace of the night.
The city, cloaked in a shroud of artificial light, hummed with nocturnal energy.
Yet, for Jonathan, there was a chilling purpose to his movement.
The arrogant hunting team that had dared to injure his master’s student had ignited a fire within him, a cold, calculating fury that demanded retribution.
But this was no simple act of vengeance.
The underbelly of the city was a complex web of power and influence.
Every shadow held a secret, every corner concealed a potential threat.
Most hunting teams, even those of modest repute, were backed by formidable figures – Black Mark Warriors, individuals of unparalleled combat prowess.
The elite, the true power brokers, were shielded by the even rarer Silver Mark Warriors, legends in their own right.
And then there were the hidden families, those who operated in the shadows, their influence solidified by the mythical Gold Mark Warriors.
Jonathan was a master of shadows himself, a silent predator in a world teeming with prey.
He understood the delicate balance of power, the intricate dance of alliances.
To act without knowledge was to invite disaster.
He needed information, a comprehensive dossier on the hunting team, their patrons, and the depth of their connections.
Only then could he strike with precision, a venomous serpent delivering a fatal bite.
With each step, his resolve hardened.
The night was young, and the hunt was on.
Meanwhile, Simon emerged from the city’s bustling heart and into the familiar embrace of the Drage Family compound.
The imposing architecture, a blend of ancient tradition and modern efficiency, was a testament to the family’s enduring power.
His steps quickened as he made his way towards the main house, a sense of urgency propelling him forward.
The study, a sanctum of authority and knowledge, was where he found his father, Alnod Drage.
A man in the prime of life, Alnod exuded an aura of quiet command.
The Black Mark tattooed prominently on his forearm was a stark reminder of his formidable combat prowess.
As the head of the Drage Family, one of the preeminent powerhouses in the inner post region, his influence extended far and wide.
Yet, despite his imposing stature, his face softened into a warm smile as his son entered the room.
Simon, accustomed to the rigors of the battlefield, was an infrequent visitor to his father’s study.
His presence was a deviation from the norm, a fact not lost on Alnod.
Curiosity flickered in Alnod’s eyes as he gestured for his son to take a seat.
Simon stood before his father, his face etched with a gravity that was unusual for the young warrior.
Alnod, with his keen eye for detail, immediately sensed that something was amiss.
His son was not a man of many words, but he was also not one to conceal his emotions.
The solemn expression on Simon’s face was a stark contrast to the typically confident demeanor of the young warrior.
A flicker of concern ignited in Alnod’s eyes as he leaned forward, his posture subtly shifting to convey his readiness to listen.
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