Twinlight

Chapter 24: The Axis of the World

Kuo Hu rubbed his bald scalp, his voice booming across the silent yard. "Let's skip the pleasantries. I'm here for Reality Artifact ACE-005. Tell me where it's contained in this prison. I'll retrieve it and leave."

Lucian Reed gently nudged the massive cat off his lap. It padded away with regal disdain before he answered, his tone deceptively mild. "Courtesy toward one's elders often prevents unnecessary... discomfort."

Kuo Hu snorted. "Give me ACE-005, and you'll find me exceedingly courteous."

Lucian’s eyebrows lifted with genuine curiosity. "Since when did the Spades Syndicate covet Reality Artifacts? That tone makes you sound like an Arbiter from the Aegis Tribunal."

Kuo Hu closed the distance, stopping five meters from Lucian. "The Spades require this Artifact."

"And what purpose does it serve?" Lucian inquired.

"That's our concern—" Kuo Hu countered, then narrowed his eyes. "Speaking of, rumors say you struck a deal with the Chimera Syndicate. Guarding an Artifact to keep it from the Thornes? True? What is it you guard?"

"You mishear," Lucian replied patiently. "I made no deals with the Chimeras. Don't weave tapestries from whispers."

Nearby, Elian Thorne listened intently. The Aegis Tribunal. He’d seen the name only in Alex's guide video – an organization dedicated solely to Reality Artifacts. Was ACE-005 the objective of his own "Shadow Gambit"? The key to his trial?

Kuo Hu took another step forward. "Where. Is. ACE-005?"

Lucian shook his head. "I know. I won't tell you."

"Why not?" Kuo Hu demanded, stepping closer. The tribal tattoos coiling across his arms and scalp seemed to writhe, patterns shifting like living shadows.

​​THOOM.​​

The ground trembled faintly under his footfall.

Lucian smiled faintly. "No grand reason. I simply happen to like it."

Like a released coil, Kuo Hu lunged. His fist, hard as a siege bell, shot toward Lucian's face with thunderous speed. ​​WHOOSH!​​

Above, the Metal Tempest turrets whirred to life. ​​WHIR-CLICK!​​

Thirty-six of the seventy-two massive rotary cannons mounted on the steel sky rotated instantly. Pandemonium erupted among the three thousand prisoners.

"Demigods fighting, mortals dying!" someone wailed.

Amidst the chaos, only Elian remained utterly focused—not on the fighters, but on the steel ceiling. Unnoticed, he retreated a few steps, then turned and walked calmly toward a specific spot.

​​BRRRRRRRT!​​

Thirty-six turrets unleashed a torrent. Not metal slugs, but Rubber Rounds—designed for suppression. The other thirty-six, loaded with live ammunition, remained ominously still.

A black rain hammered down. ​​THWACK! THUD! THWACK!​​Rubber Rounds pounded concrete like hailstones, ricocheting wildly. Inmates screamed, diving for cover. Many caught too slow crumpled under the barrage, faces swelling into bruised masks. Kuo Hu’s thunderous blows echoed the mechanical storm.

​​CRACK!​​Lucian’s palm met Kuo Hu’s fist. The Demigod stood unmoved, a mountain in human form. He had raised a single hand, halting the devastating punch as easily as catching a thrown apple.

Lucian glanced back, a flicker of concern for Elian—an ordinary youth caught in a superhuman storm—crossing his features.

He stopped, surprised.

Two meters behind him, Elian sat perfectly composed at Lucian’s usual table—the very spot where the man pondered chess puzzles daily.

The rubber storm raged. Trajectories crisscrossed the air in a lethal lattice. Yet Elian sat within Penitentiary-18’s sole Dead Zone—an island of stillness. Ricocheting rounds hissed past him ​​SFFT! SFFT!​​, missing by millimeters. Not a single drop of the black rain touched him.

It was as if the world pivoted around the calm, seated youth.

...

The downpour from the steel sky ceased. An abrupt, ringing silence fell.

Every prisoner except Elian, Evander Vale, Kuo Hu, Lucian, and Silas Locke lay groaning on the floor, clutching bruised heads and bodies. Many bore swollen, discolored faces. Moans filled the air.

Amidst this tableau of suffering, Elian’s serene composure at the table radiated an almost ethereal detachment. Lucian felt an unexpected warmth bloom in his chest. How is it I’ve known this boy only days, yet feel such affinity? Is this the caliber of heir the Thorne Syndicate breeds for their Shadow Gambit?

With a casual push, Lucian sent Kuo Hu stumbling back five meters. ​​WHOMPH!​​The giant barely kept his footing. Kuo Hu didn’t press the attack. Instead, he sank cross-legged to the floor, breathing deeply like a bellows. The entire confrontation hadn’t even ruffled Lucian’s pristine white Training Gi.

Past his prime? Ha! Legends of Lucian Reed's ascension to Demigod status were clearly understated. Seeing was believing.

Lucian’s gaze lingered on Elian a moment longer, a thoughtful crease forming between his brows, before returning to Kuo Hu. "Continue?"

The tattoos on the giant’s skin had settled into inert patterns. "No point," Kuo Hu rumbled, wiping sweat from his brow. "Can't win a fight against a mountain. But mark my words," he added, a stubborn glint in his eye, "I'll find ACE-005 with or without your help."

Elian found the man intriguing. Ferocious as a storm one moment, surrendering with pragmatic resignation the next. The shift was jarring, almost... tactical.

If Lucian knows the Artifact’s location,Kuo Hu reasoned silently, I’ll just shadow the old fox. He might just slip up.

"By all means," Lucian replied, utterly unperturbed, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Search at your leisure."

Dismissing Kuo Hu, Lucian moved to sit opposite Elian. "Calculated that position?" he asked, gesturing to the Dead Zone around the table.

Elian shook his head. "My processing is above average, but not enough for real-time trajectory mapping of thirty-six Metal Tempest turrets. It was an educated guess."

Lucian also shook his head, his gaze sharp. "An ‘educated guess’ wouldn't place you thatprecisely. Not a millimeter to spare."

"A brief calculation narrowed it to four possible Dead Zones," Elian stated calmly, meeting Lucian's eyes. "Your habitual seat was one. The rest," he paused, "required no further computation."

He’d gambled, choosing the spot based on probability, observation, and the immutable patterns of Lucian Reed. And as always, when the stakes involved logic and odds, Elian Thorne won.