Somewhere on a hollowed volcanic planet—
A tall, aging Naga strode through a narrow tunnel carved straight into black stone. Scales covered half his face, dull with age but unbroken, his slit pupils sharp with restrained fury. He moved fast despite his years, a bundle of papers clenched tightly in one hand.
At the end of the tunnel stood a reinforced door.
He didn’t bother opening it.
The kick sent a shock through the corridor, the door slamming inward hard enough to make the stone walls tremble.
"How did you miss this?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the room as he hurled the bundle onto the table at its center.
Six figures were already gathered inside.
The papers slid across the surface and came to rest between them.
The Naga began pacing immediately, claws clicking softly against the floor, waiting while the others went through the contents. No one spoke as they read. When they were done, one of them ignited the stack with a flick of energy, reducing it to ash in seconds.
Silence followed.
"This is a serious failure," someone said at last.
The speaker looked like a boulder given form, an Elemental whose entire body was stone, brown veins of energy pulsing faintly beneath the surface.
"A failure?" the Naga snapped, spinning on him. "I’m asking how we did we not identify him."
No one answered right away.
Then a woman exhaled slowly. She was a Feran, her features sharp and hollow, her voice carrying a faint echo that made it linger in the air when she spoke. Someone from a bird tribe.
"Because he moved faster than our net," she said. "He left nothing behind. No trails. No residue. We narrowed it down to thirty-nine suspects, and even then the window was too small. And he was not even in the list of suspects."
She looked around the room before continuing.
"Based on what you brought us, it’s clear he was the one who destroyed the base. That much isn’t in question anymore." Her gaze hardened slightly. "The real question is what we do now."
The Naga stopped pacing and dragged a chair back with a sharp scrape, sitting down heavily at the table.
"Where did he and his group come from?" he asked, voice lower now but no less dangerous. "How was he able to dismantle one of our bases so easily? I want details on every single member. Their abilities. Their patterns. And most importantly, where their base is."
No one interrupted him.
"I’ve suppressed the news of the base’s destruction for now," he continued, fingers tapping once against the tabletop. "But that won’t hold for long."
His eyes narrowed as he looked at each of them in turn.
"And you all know what that means. The envoy won’t tolerate this kind of failure. He won’t question us. He won’t investigate." His jaw tightened. "He’ll kill us and replace us without a second thought."
The room fell quiet for a few seconds after that, the weight of his words settling heavily over the table.
Then another Naga spoke.
He had been seated slightly apart from the others, posture relaxed but deliberate. A mask covered his face completely, hiding his features. Only the faint flicker of scales along his forearms gave away his identity.
"I do have additional information," he said calmly.
The older Naga’s gaze snapped to him. "What is it?"
"You know Azalea Nag," the masked Naga replied. "She was looking for him."
The older Naga blinked, momentarily thrown off. "Why?"
The masked Naga shrugged once and said nothing more.
The silence that followed was different this time.
"That complicates things," the older Naga said slowly. "Azalea isn’t someone we can afford to ignore." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She has... connections."
A woman seated near the far end of the table shifted. She was an Elemental, lightning dancing lazily through her hair, faint blue arcs snapping and fading with each breath. "Then why don’t we let this go?" she asked. "Call it a freak incident. One base lost isn’t worth escalating over."
The older Naga leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes briefly.
"I would like to," he admitted. "But we can’t."
He opened his eyes again, sharper now. "Orders came down this morning. Directly."
That drew everyone’s attention.
"He’s been marked," the older Naga continued. "Tier Two hunting classification. Not just us, every organization aligned with Eternal interests has been notified."
A low murmur spread through the room.
"What happened on Dragos wasn’t overlooked," he finished grimly. "The demons closing a Grade Four Rift with his involvement is being taken very seriously."
A sharp flare of light cut through the tension.
A rune ignited on the older Naga’s palm, its lines burning a dull crimson against his scales. He stopped mid-breath, eyes dropping to it instantly. Without hesitation, he pressed a finger into the symbol and fed Essence into it, the glow stabilizing as the rune activated.
The room fell silent.
He closed his eyes.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. His posture remained rigid, jaw clenched, aura pulled inward as information streamed directly into his senses. Then his eyes snapped open.
Wide.
"That’s not possible," he muttered.
Everyone leaned forward at once.
"What did you receive?" the stone Elemental asked.
The older Naga swallowed once before speaking again. "Another Grade Four Rift," he said slowly. "Closed."
A low murmur spread through the room.
"Where?" the lightning Elemental demanded.
"Sector Zero," he replied. "One under the control of Ferans."
Silence followed, heavier than before.
The masked Naga let out a low breath. "That fast?"
The older Naga nodded grimly. "Same signature. Same pattern of interference. Same group of people. System runes manifested after the engagement." His gaze swept across the table. "It’s him."
No one argued.
"Two grade four rifts," the Feran woman said quietly. "In rapid succession."
"And no casualties reported," the older Naga added. "Again."
The lightning Elemental’s hair crackled more violently now. "That means he’s not just reacting to opportunity," she said. "He’s moving with intent."
"Yes," the older Naga agreed. "And he’s doing it openly."
He leaned back in his chair, the rune on his palm fading as the transmission ended.
"This changes things," he said. "He is sector 0 now."
His eyes hardened.
"And if he keeps closing rifts at this pace, Tier Two won’t hold for long."
The group fell quiet, each of them turning inward as the implications settled. No one rushed to speak this time.
At the center of the table, faintly illuminated by the room’s ambient light, lay the insignia of their organization.
The Hallowed Star.