HSOC (Homeworld Special Operations Command) centered on dealing with human(oid) threats while their counterpart, ESOC (Expeditionary Special Operation Command) focused on classes of outworldly threats such as the Demon or Dragon Brigade and dozens others. Of HSOC, its 1st Special Homeworld Defense Force, Graylords, was most internationally renowned for their work.

Their actions across the world inspired countless medias as there was nothing more exhilarating than seeing warriors at their finest, executing international terrorists that deserved no sympathy—not even that, as the Apocalyptic designation had stripped them of all humanity. Trekking the Andes in search for the Apocalyptic Del Bosque, cracking the so-called “impenetrable” demesne of Dunia in Burundi, correcting the fallen Ringwonder.

They had seen it all and had little room left for surprises. Not even knee-deep in the worst outbreak to date accompanied by entities no one had seen before; they'd trained in worse in order to perform at their best in no matter the environment, anywhere on Earth.

As went the motto: Graylords rule over land.

Amongst the detachment, Operation Wolf Prowl was considered to be one of the easiest of their missions thanks to the [Ratcage], their honored prison of a demesne that had an anti-magick field, a blindness effect, and location-tracking effect on unregistered individuals. Pseudos, an S-Rank, maybe even Kosmos himself, you weren’t immune to the [Ratcage] unless you developed specific resistances.

Because this was magic that underwent a decade of development and refining.

All Apocalyptics acted the same once the cage slammed shut and their vision darkened as though falling into the deep sea: panic, terror, dread. They realized they could do nothing as their skills and gear were ineffective, realized they couldn’t escape as left and right were meaningless directions. Their vision was taken away but not their hearing, so they could count the number of footsteps before their hunters reached them and tremble as death approached.

Red energy bolts whistled through the air, cacophonously buzzing like killer hornets, striking as harshly as anvils dropped from a great height. Cracking, thumping, echoing throughout the derelict halls of Gnosis Facilities. Faintly there were screams. Howls. Always they would be cut off, never to be heard again.

One such scream vanished when a single shot from the [Rosario] downed the fumbling Apocalyptic, who had scrambled for a knife. His side was blasted open, biting through the armor. It left him gasping and groaning on the ground before a second went through the heart. Went limp, sprawled out.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck—!” squealed a second Apocalyptic, emerging from behind a pillar and blindly running in a random direction. Arms-out, waving like a man drowning in ocean waves. In his perspective, the world was pitch-black with a thick blanket over his head.

For Conqueror, Alexander Shen, who could see just fine as he was a registered member in the [Ratcage], watched the Apocalyptic slam himself on a desk, tumbling over and began frantically crawling, scrambling as Alexander advanced.

The Apocalyptic heard his footsteps and shot his hands up; he didn’t know how terrified he looked. Alexander had seen the very same expression on thousands of people, now: civilians fleeing the bombings, pushing and stomping and smothering each other in the chaos. That was one thing the mental magic—the intensifier as it was described—did right. These people felt anger and thus felt like society wronged them tremendously in every step of the way. So what happened when the intensified emotion wasn't anger but fear instead?

A lesson, ultimately. Of how their victims felt.

Blotches of skull fragments and brain matter, crimson painting the dusty floor.

“Good exterminating, Conqueror,” said one of the Greylords, an A-Rank Slayer by the name of Heist, was said to be a “master infiltrator” as per his namesake. He twirled a jewel-adorned dagger, whose end was a ring, around his dainty finger. It was bloody. Behind him was an Apocalyptic with his jugular cut. “How’s [Rosario]?”

Alexander looked down at the [Rosario] and laughed to himself. “I think I'm addicted.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Heist commented, kicking off the pillar he was leaning against, prancing down the thirty-fifth floor of Gnosis Facilities.

Alexander followed him, surveying the floor, looking through the walls to see if any other Apocalyptics were here. They were marked by pulsating red dots indicative of their heartbeats. Some remained, but one-by-one they vanished.

“Do you feel like a kid on a field trip?” asked Heist some moments after, stepping over a corpse.

Alexander stepped over it too, paying the rat no mind. “Yeah, this takes me back to kindergarten where we slit throats before naptime.”

“I’m jealous.”

Before Heist could say anything more, one red dot was frantically approaching their location to their right, directly behind a solid wooden door. Another Graylord operator introduced herself by blowing the door off its hinges with an explosive kick, and the Apocalyptic came flying with it. Both crashed onto the floor, and the poor man laid on the hard-wood like a prison bed.

Tandem produced a throwing knife from her belt. There was a sharp zip. The Apocalyptic’s head violently shot backwards, the back of his skull slamming against the wood, and squeezed against his forehead was the knife's handle. She was an A-Rank like Heist.

“Hey Tandem,” Heist casually said. “Give us a warning next time. You scared the shit outta the Baptist.”

“Fuck you.” She walked over and pulled the knife out, wiping off the skull and brain and whatever-else on her sleeve.

Heist turned to Alexander. “You ever did that in elementary school?”

“Nah, we couldn’t kick down doors.”

“You’re right, my bad.”

It didn't take long for the thirty-fifth floor to be cleared by the rest of the team, then regrouping confidently at the stairwell. Combat echoed above in a splendor of echoing gunfire, abruptly cut-off yelps, and crude comments exchanged between the members. But below them had taken their fancy because the thirty-fourth was where the Righteous Jin Tiehan was. He had volunteered to empty the floor out by himself. Wasn’t standard protocol but even the Graylords knew better than to stop the Perfected Cultivator.

Especially when they found the gatekeeper rat stashed at the door. Or what was left of him. His skull was completely flattened against the concrete wall. Deader than dead. Heist whistled.

A trail of bodies led them to Jin Tiehan. Gruesome kills yet the brutality was overlooked by the beautiful precision of them. Necks had been broken and twisted by a half-rotation. Spines and organs obliterated from a simple palm strike. Bodies severed at the waist by a single chop of the hand.

Following the blood, Jin Tiehan was found facing an Apocalyptic who was kneeling over a desk.

One operator in the group muttered, “That’s the B-Rank.” Like Acumen, a few of the Apocalyptics were registered, licensed Slayers.

The B-Rank in question roared something fierce at the Martial, tongue-lashing him even on his last legs. He grabbed hold of the desk, spun around and hurled it.

Immovable like a mountain, Jin Tiehan stood there inconsequently as the desk struck him, split in half, sliding across the bloody floor. It did not do damage to him.

If the B-Rank had the ability to see, he'd be insulted or discouraged. Or both.

It didn't matter. A sigh left the cultivator while he brushed the dirt off his robes, his [Thundering Four Rings] which had been forged by Thunderstrike Hammer were emitting a soft glow. His sharp eyes seemingly gave no special attention to the enemy in front of him. If you could call him that.

Through sound and instinct, the B-Rank pounced on Jin Tiehan's position.

He was too slow.

Like a glitch, Jin Tiehan buzzed out of existence and appeared behind the Apocalyptic, precisely striking the man's spine with his palm. It shattered. There was a hard crash then a yelp trying to be a scream. Symmetry was broken out of him, laying there like a twisted action figure.

The Righteous exclaimed seeing the Graylords plus Alexander, vicious eyes smiling at them. He approached, purposefully stepping on the Apocalyptic's paralyzed body. "I apologize for being rather sluggish with my extermination..."

First he crushed the legs, then the chest causing the bastard's breath to hitch, and finally the head. That popped like a balloon, the remains resting in a pillow of gore.

“...That was the B-Rank,” murmured Heist.

“No troubles, I presume?” Jin Tiehan asked, unaffected. “Conqueror?”

It took a second for Alexander to respond, knowing it would be hypocritical to be disturbed by his actions. “None."

“Good, I enjoy having no complications to speak of."

Heist engaged Jin Tiehan in a short conversation while Alexander, alongside the other operators, looked around the floor, searching for red heartbeats. None remained here; the rest were below getting wiped out by Bravo Team who had entered the building through the underground entrance.

Alexander approached the window-walls besmirched with odd stains, peering below at the streets. The area around Gnosis Facilities had been cordoned for the operation, evident by vehicles blocking the roads to prevent any traffic into the block.

Flashes of light caught his attention: combat. As expected, the area had been planted with object-bound distortions (OBDs) and they triggered. Alpha Team reacted swiftly and were in the process of systematically eradicating the distortions as they arrived. The Baptists couldn’t be seen where he was at but a sudden bout of pride flourished inside his chest.

“I count seven OBDs from where we’re at,” said one operator staring out the same window with him.

Alexander replied, “Yup, shouldn’t be nothing we can’t handle.”

“That means we ought to stop playing around and pick up the pace,” Tandem added to the conversation.

“Yes, and to exterminate the rats,” Jin Tiehan followed after.

“And tag Carn,” she reminded him, glancing at the bodies that he had personally sent to the gates. It was safe to say that none of them were the Predator of Predator himself.

Jin Tiehan hesitated for a heartbeat's time and nodded, his lips curling into an unsettling smile. “Of course. Exterminate the rats and tag Carn, you’re correct.”

~~~

[Skill Activation: Weak Sword Spirit]

[Skill Activation: Red Banner]

“Hyah!” roared Leona as her [Ornate Jikdo], infused with her pure (yet still unrefined) mana, cleaving through the toughened body of a grotesque mud-monster that looked molded by a demented child’s hands.

When her blade struck the gleaming [Corrupted Animation Core], cracked it open and shattered it, the mud lost structure and collapsed like a bucket spilling water.

Just what sort of alchemist or golemist created these monstrosities?

“Leona!” exclaimed Chunhua who was with her. She transformed into a swirl of leaves that rushed past a small group of these mud golems, each one caught in the currents and launched into the air.

Leona understood her cue and followed behind. She maintained her concentration on her [Weak Sword Spirit] and engaged the golems as they landed, fallen over and defenseless.

[Fleeting Blade]

[Red Banner]

[Carmine Point Break]

Through an admittedly exhausting series of techniques, she cleaved through the golems that Chunhua affected, leaving behind a thick trail of dark mud that sparkled with the [Animation Cores] that had once powered them.

Leona looked on at her handiwork and allowed herself the slightest smile. She couldn't have done that a few days ago. If that wasn't a clear sign of improvement, then what was?

[Five Ring Atlas: Crowd Control - Fire]

To her left, Vernon’s [Five Ring Atlas] was performing wonderfully in the battlefield thanks to Blackviper’s help. His construct fired five rounds of fire bolts into the circus of monsters—horrid greenskins and machines and carnivorous animals and more—shooting down the weaker ones while keeping the higher-ranked at bay.

A metal clash clanged throughout the street like a mallet to a church bell. Victor grunted, trying to keep himself standing but he was forced down by the towering full-armored monster in front of him, snarling and sniveling like a rabid wolf, keeping the [Talonstrider] pressed down by its heavy waraxe.

[Skill Activation: Great Psionic Aura]

There was an echoing blast of psionic energy that struck the armored fiend from the side, knocked him back, but it laughed. This ugly bastard was probably somewhere in the middle-ranks, having taken a psionic blast well and had the same reaction for the second.

It lost interest in Victor and tasted the blood in Kaiya, who was standing on the other side of the street, and clamored forward hungrily, armor and teeth clattering. But he only took a few steps before a translucent sphere surrounded him, caused by a stone thrown by Althea.

[Increase Gravitational Pull]

The warlord tasted asphalt but resisted the incredible gravitational pull trying to drag it down, and somehow it was winning, using its axe to lift itself up inch-by-inch. But it was slow. Too slow.

“Back up!” Gul commanded, pushing through her Baptists and manifesting a spear of potent, fae-infused water above the sphere. With a simple motion, the spear rammed downwards directly onto the monster with great power. The impact tore the bastard in half and the sphere’s implosion blew guts everywhere.

Gul politely created a water barrier so everyone could stay dry.

The Baptists regrouped, having dealt with the threats in the immediate vicinity. The operational area wasn’t a complete warzone, rather there were a cluster of separate battles well within their ability. Completely unlike Operation Scorcher, where there was only chaos and an overwhelming sense of existential powerlessness.

As the only high-ranker of the Baptist element here, Gul took command of both Alba and Alumnus while Alexander was needed in the target building—personally Leona had disagreed with the decision but you did not argue against Jin Tiehan. Gul listened to both the radio chatter and the communication feed over the Slayer System.

“We’re going west! Follow me!” she ordered, dashing towards the next location. Because Alba were low-rankers and thus were slow compared to the Alumnus, the entire team had to pace themselves to prevent anyone from being left behind.

It meant they would arrive slower than they would’ve liked but maintaining the formation was more important.

Over the System, Alma was heard speaking, updating them on the operation, “As far as I can tell, all current distortions are OBDs and not forcibly opened by any universe splitters.”

Everyone collectively felt relief hearing those words—it meant that a Sungrazer wasn’t here. They didn’t have the manpower nor the tactics to take on a single Comet at the moment.

Alma continued, “I would advise caution still, Baptists. We do not have the tools to spot OBDs so assume that any and all objects are suspicious. And unauthorized individuals—needless to say, you have full authority to strike them down. I…”

He paused, sounding exhausted through the call.

Althea spoke up, “What’s up?”

“Nothing, I’m tired,” he reflexively said.

“Focus, Alma,” Gul told him during their trek. “We need you at your best here; we can’t afford you to be weak-minded.”

“I know, I’m fully aware of my responsibilities. I’ll continue to update you on the operation’s progress and guide you. You are in my prayers, Baptists, and Conqueror as well. I wish for a simple conclusion to this incident."

~~~

They needed to find Carn.

“He’s not here,” Alexander said, throwing back a metal shelf as an Apocalyptic tried knocking it over to impede him. Said Apocalyptic was on the ground with half his head missing, a foul smell in the air. “Thirty-two is a bust.”

“Negative, we haven’t found him on the thirty-first,” Heist told over the comms, holding the shirt collar of an Apocalyptic in his hands. A random guy with black hair, definitely not him.

“We’re running out of targets,” Tandem murmured, double-checking through the bodies on the thirtieth and making sure none of them had accidentally killed Carn. Not a single one matched his description.

“Twenty-four is clear,” Blackviper stated. Her sheen black blade dripped blood onto the floor.

“I find only rats,” Milkor told Blackviper, frowning, visually checking the physical features of the Apocalyptics found on the twenty-sixth floor. Negative. There wasn’t even a single man with white hair since their infiltration.

Gradually with each floor, Alexander witnessed a change in the Graylords' behavior. Before they had taken the operation lightly like they were going on a picnic—with any mission where the [Ratcage] was installed, it basically was. However, as Carn continued to evade them, the bitter truth settled in, and finally on the twenty-ninth floor where Bravo and Charlie unhappily reunited, they began to treat this operation with the utmost seriousness.

That Carn was not located.

Milkor threw the last Apocalyptic—the very last one in the building—against a panel of the window-wall. The glass cracked.

The man tried to move but Milkor barked at him to stay still. "Where is Carn? The Predator of Predators? Where is he?"

“I don’t—! I don’t—!” trembled the man, stuttering like mad before something pressed against his skull: the barrel of a rifle. That shut his babbling up. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know! I swear, I don’t know! He’s not here but I don’t know!”

Alexander bit his lip hard enough that it bled.

The commanders had established this possibility, that Carn wasn't inside Gnosis Facilities but this stung. Even after having some of the best trackers plus the Graylords on his ass, he still wasn't found. Certainly this was proof of his collaboration with the Sungrazers.

Milkor gritted his teeth and glanced back at the others.

Blackviper stepped forward, indifferent. “He’s lying. Go ahead and zero him—”

“No no no no, wait! I’m not lying! I swear, I’m not lying!” The Apocalyptic raised his hands as if that was a gesture of honestly. “Carn isn’t here! I don’t know where he is but nobody saw him in-person! He talks to us in our head but that's it! That's everything! He’s not here! I’m telling you the truth, please—!”

The glass shattered and the Apocalyptic dropped, falling out the window, smoke whispering from the barrel.

Milkor tapped into his comms and began to call it in.

Alexander double-checked to see if there weren’t any Apocalyptics still hiding within the building. No one. There was no one left. The [Ratcage] was a near-perfect demesne; you needed exceptionally-advanced cloaking skills to avoid its detection and even then, the Graylords would still notice.

So that was it.

At least this operation would damper any future OBD distribution. Maybe.

“Fuck.” Alexander dropped his arms, letting his [Rosario] dangle on the strap. “Fuck…”

“Disappointed?” Jin Tiehan asked him.

“More than anything. I hoped this loose end would be wrapped up today but I guess not. I guess not…”

Like earlier, Alexander approached the window-wall, visually checking the progress down below. The fight was dying down. There was less OBDs than the last time he counted. Things will be wrapping up shortly.

Yeah, that was it.

“Motherfucker…” he whispered under his breath, reaching out and touching the gritty glass with his fingertips clad with [Ironcloth]. His reflection shimmered. He could see his own disappointment boiling over to a rage.

The glass blinked.

Alexander froze.

There were eyes within the reflection.

“What…?” Alexander stumbled from the windows, shaking his head as the eyes within noticed him. The pupils turned and shared a vibrant animosity. “What the fuck?!”

Heist called out to him, “Conqueror, what the hell is—?!”

Before he could scream at everyone to get down, familiar scarlet lasers shot from the reflections and into the operators.