Chapter 002
1594 Words
The moment Dylan Brooks stormed out of the lecture hall, the world beyond the doors responded as if summoned by an invisible command.
Three thousand Empyreans, who had been standing guard outside the hall in absolute silence, dropped to their knees in perfect unison. The sound of armor meeting stone echoed across the vast plateau like a single, thunderous heartbeat.
“Master!!”
The cry rolled across the mountains, heavy with reverence and awe.
But Dylan Brooks did not turn his head. He did not slow his stride. His entire being was focused on one thing, one destination, one name that burned like a brand in his mind.
He boarded the private aircraft without hesitation.
At almost the same instant, a man with five stars gleaming on his shoulders—Thomas Reed, the undisputed War Marshal of the Solaria Republic—charged into the cabin after him. Without waiting for instructions, Thomas moved straight into the cockpit, his movements crisp and decisive, his posture deferential to the extreme.
“Teacher,” he said, voice tight with urgency yet laced with reverence. “I’ll fly. I’ll take you anywhere you need to go, at the fastest possible speed.”
Dylan Brooks’ eyes were bloodshot, the storm within him barely contained. Every word he spoke seemed carved from rage and pain.
“Kingsley,” he said. “Southshire State.”
“Yes, sir!”
Thomas Reed personally pushed the aircraft to its absolute limits. The private jet—worth tens of billions of dollars—roared down the runway and tore into the sky, engines screaming as if they, too, sensed the gravity of what was unfolding.
The plane pierced the clouds, ripping through layers of white like a blade splitting silk, as though the heavens themselves were being forced aside.
Inside the cabin, Dylan Brooks finally let the truth crash down on him.
“I have a daughter…”
His voice trembled despite his iron will.
“I actually have a daughter. Her name is Gabby.”
The words sounded unreal even as he spoke them. He pressed his palm against his chest, as though trying to steady a heart that felt ready to explode.
“Why… why didn’t you tell me sooner?” he whispered hoarsely. “Sophie… why didn’t you tell me?”
The thought of it alone made his entire body shake. He wanted nothing more than to be there—to reach Kingsley, to pull his daughter into his arms, to prove that she was no longer alone in this world.
Five years ago, he had been framed, ruined, dragged through mud and disgrace until even breathing felt like a crime. His name had been trampled, his future erased, his existence reduced to something worse than death.
When he had stood at the edge, ready to end it all, it had been Sophie Walker who appeared.
She had reached into hell and dragged him back out, one agonizing inch at a time. She had given him a reason to live when the world had given him none.
“And that night…” he murmured, memories slamming into him with brutal clarity. “When I lost control… when my injuries drove me mad…”
His fingers clenched into fists.
“I told myself it was a dream,” he said, his voice cracking. “I convinced myself it never happened. But it did… didn’t it? I really hurt you.”
When he finally recovered, Sophie Walker was gone.
She disappeared without a word.
He searched for her, desperately, but at the same time he was being hunted by enemies who wanted him dead. Every hour was a fight for survival. In the end, with no other choice, he had been forced to leave Kingsley.
Then fate had led him to Empyrean Summit.
There, he had obtained an inheritance that defied reason—power that could overturn heaven and earth, authority that could decide life and death with a single thought. Within the sect, he commanded a hundred thousand Empyreans. Beyond it, his disciples were scattered across the world like stars.
Those who studied warfare under him became generals without equal, warlords whose names alone could end conflicts.
Those who learned the art of assassination from him became shadows, executioners whose presence was never seen and whose targets never survived.
Those who followed his teachings in medicine could reverse decay itself, drawing the attention of presidents, monarchs, and tycoons alike.
Those who learned commerce under him amassed fortunes capable of shaking entire national economies.
The moment Dylan Brooks began his descent toward Kingsley, all of them felt it.
Across continents and borders, his disciples dropped everything. Meetings were abandoned. Wars were paused. Operations were canceled without explanation.
All roads led to the Solaria Republic.
All paths converged on Southshire State.
All momentum surged toward Kingsley.
At the same time, inside the War Department of the Solaria Republic, chaos erupted.
An elderly man in full military dress slammed his palm onto the table and surged to his feet. His hair was white, but his eyes were sharp, burning with fury.
“What is Thomas Reed doing?!” the old marshal thundered. “What does he think he’s doing?! Mobilizing a hundred thousand elite cavalry without authorization, deploying aircraft, tanks, armored divisions—what is this?! Is he trying to start a rebellion?!”
“Marshal, please calm down,” said a young female officer in uniform, her posture straight, her expression resolute despite the tension. “We’re attempting to contact General Reed. He has always been loyal to the Republic. Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
Before she could finish—
“Report!!”
A senior officer burst into the room, panic etched across his face. “Marshal, urgent situation! Massive numbers of mercenary forces are approaching our borders. Some neighboring states are also mobilizing troops toward our territory!”
“Report!!”
Another officer rushed in before the first could step aside. “Marshal, intelligence confirms that tens of thousands of operatives from Nether Court have entered the Republic. Their objective is unknown!”
“Report!!”
A third followed, his voice tight with disbelief. “The six Poison Sovereigns of Divine Herb Vale have all left the valley simultaneously. They once swore never to step beyond its borders again in their lifetimes. Along with them are the four Medical Saints—and the Valley Master himself!”
The room went dead silent.
The old marshal sucked in a sharp breath, his pupils contracting violently.
This wasn’t a disturbance.
This was a storm capable of rewriting history.
“What in the world is happening…” he murmured. “Are they trying to turn the entire Republic upside down?”
For the first time, fear crept into his voice.
“Immediately,” he ordered, steadying himself, “use every means available to contact Thomas Reed. Deploy a hundred thousand elite troops to the borders. Inform all forces—this land is not to be trespassed at will.”
Back in Kingsley, inside the Nolan family of Kingsley estate, despair reached its breaking point.
Sophie Walker sat before a vanity mirror, her reflection barely recognizable. Her once luminous face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and hollow.
Behind her stood two burly men, their expressions twisted with impatience.
“Hurry it up,” one snarled. “Our young master doesn’t like waiting.”
Sophie’s hands trembled as she nodded.
“As long as he lets my daughter go…” she said shakily. “As long as he releases her, I’ll do whatever he wants.”
Her fingernails dug into her palms, breaking skin. Thin rivulets of blood stained her fingers, but she didn’t seem to feel it.
She forced herself to breathe, to steady her shaking hands, and applied her makeup with mechanical precision, as if painting over despair itself.
When she stood, it felt as though every ounce of strength had been drained from her body.
“I’ll go now,” she whispered. “I’ll do what he wants. Let my daughter go.”
The two men exchanged cold smiles.
“Good,” one said. “Follow us.”
Moments later, they stopped before a closed door. A knock echoed.
“Come in,” Matthew Nolan’s voice answered from within.
Sophie’s body shuddered at the sound, but she pushed the door open.
“Where is my daughter?” she demanded, her voice breaking. “Where is Gabby?!”
Matthew chuckled and gestured lazily toward the operating table.
“Isn’t she right there?”
Sophie’s world collapsed.
Her daughter lay motionless, her small chest already opened, her body unnaturally still. The doctor—Dr. Taylor—continued his work without pause, the sharp instrument moving with horrifying calm.
“Gabby!!”
Sophie screamed and lunged forward, instinct overtaking reason. She seized a surgical tool, driven by raw desperation.
She was too slow.
Matthew caught her easily, pulling her back into his arms. His laughter was sharp, filled with sick excitement.
“Don’t interfere with my son’s operation,” he said gleefully. “If you’re that impatient, I can deal with you right here.”
“You animals!” Sophie screamed, her voice tearing apart. “You monsters! You’ll all pay for this!”
Matthew laughed louder.
“Monsters?” he said. “You’ll see soon enough.”
With a brutal tug, he tore at her clothing, the fabric ripping apart as Sophie struggled, her scream echoing through the room—
And far away, tearing through the sky at impossible speed, Dylan Brooks was coming.
- Writer
