The morning air over the capital was heavy with tension.
At the break of dawn, Armin summoned all the spies to the central courtyard. They arrived cautiously, each one aware that something was amiss but unsure of what was coming. The cold gleam in Armin's eyes as he stood waiting confirmed their unease.
Maverick and Kliner stood behind him, watching silently as the crowd of spies gathered. Dozens of them—men and women from various nations, each having infiltrated Armin's army under false pretenses—now stood before the very man they had tried to deceive.
Armin's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"You all did well," he said, his tone calm but chilling. "Your countries must be pleased. You fed them bits and pieces of what you learned, tried to dig into my plans, tried to manipulate my people. I commend the effort. Truly, it takes a certain kind of courage—or perhaps stupidity—to play with fire."
Some of the spies exchanged uncertain glances. Others shifted their stance, readying themselves for what might come.
"You've proven yourselves to be skilled," Armin continued. "Resourceful. Capable of surviving in the midst of chaos and still carrying out your missions. But there's one thing you forgot—"
He paused, stepping forward.
"You forgot who I am."
A silence settled, thick and suffocating.
"I knew," Armin said, his voice colder now. "I knew you were spies before you ever stepped into my camps. I let you in. I watched you plot, manipulate, pretend to be comrades. You thought you were in control—but every step you took was already calculated."
The spies' expressions shifted. Some froze in place, others paled. Realization spread through the group like a plague: their fates had been sealed from the very beginning.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Armin smiled, a small, unsettling expression that sent a chill down their spines.
"You must be wondering if I'm going to kill you all now," he said. "But no—I'm not."
A flicker of hope sparked in some of their eyes.
"I'm going to let you live," Armin said. "In fact, I'm going to let you escape. I'll give you ten minutes. Ten minutes to get out of this capital."
Whispers rippled through the crowd.
"But let me be clear," he added, "anyone still inside the capital after those ten minutes... dies."
No one moved at first. It was almost too surreal to believe. But then Armin turned away without another word. The moment his back was turned, chaos erupted.
Spies bolted in every direction. The streets were soon filled with the sound of panicked footsteps, frantic calls, and the revving of stolen vehicles. But deep down, they all knew the truth—getting out in ten minutes was impossible.
Even with the fastest transportation available, the capital's size and winding layout meant it took at least twenty minutes to reach the outer perimeter. Some of the spies had prepared for contingencies and had reinforcements stationed nearby. Helicopters roared overhead as pre-planned extraction teams swooped in to retrieve their operatives.
But not everyone had planned so far ahead.
As the helicopters arrived, some spies scrambled to reach them. They clung desperately to the landing gear and skids, pleading to be pulled aboard. But desperation bred betrayal. The spies already inside kicked at the hands of those hanging on, cutting fingers with knives to force them off. Others were pushed away with boots to the face, falling back to the ground with broken bones and bloodied faces.
"Please!" one of them screamed, reaching for the last rung of a helicopter. "I'm from your team!"
A man inside the chopper responded with a cold stare and slammed the door shut. The rotors lifted the vehicle skyward, leaving dozens behind in the dust.
Within minutes, the skies were clear again.
Armin had not moved. From the top of the central building, he watched everything unfold. Kliner stood beside him, arms folded, unimpressed.
"Ten minutes," Armin said softly, glancing at the old mechanical watch on his wrist.
Time ticked by.
Of the several dozen who had infiltrated his forces, only six escaped the capital. The rest—betrayed by their comrades or simply too slow—were caught in Armin's net.
Sheath lay unconscious in his cot, his breathing shallow but steady. The room was silent except for the faint rustling of the wind outside the camp. His body, wrapped in clean bandages, bore the marks of a fierce and brutal battle. His awakening—the surge of energy that had saved them all—had lasted only seconds, but it had drained him completely. His limbs had regenerated, his strength had surged… and then, just as quickly, it had vanished, leaving him collapsed on the floor.
Around him, his friends were scattered across the camp, all of them resting. Each bore injuries from their confrontation with Ashen and his team, now gone—defeated, slain in the chaos that Sheath's transformation had unleashed.
The sun rose slowly, casting golden rays through the torn fabric of the tent. A few minutes later, Lira stirred. Her eyes opened, squinting against the light. She sat up, groaning slightly as the pain in her shoulder reminded her of the fight. Looking around at the sleeping forms around her, she rolled her eyes.
"These dimwits are still asleep," she muttered.
With an irritated grunt, she stood up, brushed the dirt from her clothes, and stretched her sore muscles. Then, without hesitation, she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Hey, morons! Wake up! It's already morning! Put your lazy asses to work!"
No one responded.
Lira's brow twitched. "Tch… useless," she mumbled.
She stomped over to Isame and, without warning, punched him squarely in the cheek.
"ARGH!" Isame yelled, bolting upright and clutching his face. "My face still hurts! Why did you punch me, boss lady?!"
Lira crossed her arms. "Then you should've gotten up when I told you to, servant."
"I'm not your servant!" Isame shouted back, glaring.
She ignored him and moved on, waking Rein with a shake and a few choice words. Rein, still half-asleep, blinked in confusion before groaning. "Do you have to be this loud in the morning?"
"I wouldn't need to be loud if you all got up on time," Lira snapped.
Rein sat up and rubbed his temples. "Alright, alright, I'm up. Calm down."
He turned to Kale and nudged him awake. Kale groaned and stretched before sitting up slowly, clutching his bandaged arm.
As the group gathered themselves, Isame looked toward Sheath, who was still motionless. "Why didn't you wake him up?" he asked.
Lira's expression softened a bit. "He's different. His energy was completely drained during the battle with Ashen. That awakening took a toll on him. He needs more time to recover."
Kale nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense. That transformation... it wasn't normal."
Isame looked at Sheath again, concern flickering in his eyes. "He really did save all of us."
After a brief silence, Kale broke the quiet again. "Did anyone see or hear anything about Ashen's group? Their bodies?"
Lira shook her head. "No. No one came by the camp. We're the only ones who know what happened here."
Rein frowned. "So what do we do about the bodies? We can't just leave them lying around. Someone's bound to notice eventually."
Lira thought for a moment. "We should hand them over to Armin."
Rein looked alarmed. "Are you serious? What if he figures out the truth? If he learns that Sheath awakened, he'll start asking too many questions."
"He already knows we're strong," Kale pointed out. "He might assume we were able to defeat Ashen's team on our own. But… if he knows about the spy networks and their capabilities, he might suspect something more."
Lira frowned. "Worse—if he comes to the camp in person and sees Sheath, he might notice something's changed. He saw Sheath's injuries before. If he realizes those wounds are completely healed…"
"Then we're in trouble," Isame finished.
A heavy silence followed. The gravity of the situation settled on them like a thick fog.
Rein exhaled sharply. "So what's the plan then? We can't leave the bodies here, but we also can't bring them to Armin. If he even gets a hint of what really happened, it could all fall apart."
Lira looked around the tent. "Then we don't take the bodies to him. We dump them somewhere—somewhere far from here. Quietly. We make it look like they ran and were ambushed by someone else."
Isame nodded. "A fake trail. That might buy us time."
Rein still looked uncertain. "Do you really think that'll work?"
"We don't have another choice," Lira said firmly. "We have to protect Sheath. Whatever happened to him… it's bigger than we understand right now. If Armin finds out, he might try to use him—or worse."
Kale stood up, his body still aching but his voice resolute. "Then we move tonight. We take the bodies and drop them far off, somewhere they'll never be found."
Lira nodded. "Good. We'll leave no traces. No gear, no signs. If we do this right, Armin will never know what really happened."
They all looked toward Sheath again. His chest rose and fell steadily, his expression peaceful in sleep. Whatever had awakened inside him had changed everything.
And now… it was up to them to protect him, no matter what.
Armin stood at the edge of the clearing, his hands behind his back, expression cold and unreadable. The morning air hung heavy with tension as the remaining spies stood before him, their faces pale and slick with sweat. The ten-minute countdown he had given them had already passed.
"The time is up," Armin said calmly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Now, prepare yourselves."
A wave of dread swept through the group. Some clenched their fists, others trembled. Just as panic began to take hold, a sudden, deafening explosion echoed through the forest. The ground shook beneath their feet, and everyone instinctively turned toward the direction of the blast.
In the distance, thick black smoke billowed into the sky. Through the trees, they could see flaming debris crashing down—what was left of a helicopter. Its remains slammed into the forest floor with a thunderous crack, sending birds scattering into the sky.
"What… what was that?" one of the spies gasped, eyes wide with shock.
Armin didn't flinch. His gaze remained fixed on the rising smoke as he spoke, voice devoid of emotion. "In this cruel world, everyone pays for their sins. I wasn't going to kill them… not if they had at least shown a shred of decency."
He turned his eyes back to the group.
"But even with enough space on their escape helicopters, they abandoned you. Left you behind to die." He gestured toward the distant wreckage. "So they received their punishment instead."
The spies stood frozen. Guilt, fear, and disbelief flickered across their faces. Some lowered their heads, others looked away.
One finally mustered the courage to speak. "Then… will you let us live?"
Armin nodded slowly. "Yes. But not without a task."
A murmur rippled through the group.
"You will return to your countries," Armin continued. "And deliver a message. Tell them something is coming—something beyond your understanding. It's a force that will bring death to all humanity, and unless every nation unites, there will be no surviving it."
Another spy stepped forward hesitantly. "What do you mean… something? What is it?"
Armin's gaze darkened, the weight of his knowledge showing in his eyes. "You won't understand now. But when you see it… when you feel it breathing down your neck… you'll know."
The forest grew still again. The fire in the distance continued to burn, a grim reminder of betrayal and consequence. The spies, once enemies in secret, now stood as messengers of something far greater than espionage or politics.
Something apocalyptic was on the horizon.
And Armin had just sent them to warn the world.
Maverick approached Armin with a furrowed brow. "I've been going over the reports," he said. "It feels like some of the spies are missing—at least five of them."
Kliner nodded. "Yes. Ashen and his team. They're dead."
Maverick's eyes widened. "Dead? What happened to them?"
Kliner glanced at Armin before responding. "Sheath killed them. He's awakened his powers."
Armin stepped in, his voice calm but deliberate. "His awakening was sudden. He unleashed tremendous energy, but the effort left him unconscious. Right now, he's recovering."
Maverick blinked in disbelief. "Sheath… finally awakened?"
"Yes," Kliner confirmed. "And he wiped out Ashen's entire team with ease. They didn't stand a chance."
Maverick let out a low whistle. "That's… incredible. We always suspected he had potential, but for him to awaken now…"
Armin's gaze shifted toward the window, eyes narrowed in thought. "His friends are trying to keep it under wraps. They haven't reported it to us yet. They think we don't know."
Maverick looked puzzled. "So what should we do? Confront them?"
Armin shook his head. "No. Let them believe their secret is safe—for now. There's no need to make them suspicious."
Kliner leaned against the wall. "You think they're hiding it to protect Sheath?"
"Of course," Armin replied. "They know what kind of attention his awakening will attract. The last thing they want is for him to become a target again, especially after what he just went through."
Maverick folded his arms. "Then we're just going to wait?"
Armin nodded. "Yes. Let them keep their little secret. When the time is right, it will reveal itself—and when it does, we'll see how the pieces fall into place."
Kliner smirked. "So we act like nothing happened."
"Exactly," Armin said. "For now, silence is our strategy. But when the truth surfaces, we'll be ready.
A few hours after the confrontation, the surviving spies gathered their belongings and quietly began their journey back to their respective countries. Their expressions were grim—haunted not only by the trauma of their near-death experience but by the knowledge of what they had seen, what they had failed to do, and the terrifying warning Armin had delivered. Most traveled in silence, consumed by a storm of conflicting emotions—relief at having survived, guilt over those who had not, and dread over the message they were now burdened to carry home.
Meanwhile, in a high-security war room far from the chaos of Armin's capital, the world leaders had already convened in a tense emergency meeting. The atmosphere was thick with anger, frustration, and panic. At the center of it all was one man's name: Armin.
One of the leaders, red-faced with fury, slammed his fist onto the table. "That maniac Armin!" he shouted. "He told our spies that if they could escape his capital in ten minutes, he would spare them—and my team did it! They actually made it out! But what happened? He shot down their helicopter! He murdered them in cold blood!"
Another leader nodded gravely. "And let's not forget what he said to the rest of the spies. That they were allowed to live only to carry a message of doom. He warned them about something coming to destroy all of humanity—and that we must unite if we want to survive. We don't even know what he's talking about!"
The first leader pointed an accusing finger toward the main display, which showed satellite imagery of the capital and its surroundings. "Don't you get it? He's manipulating us. Spreading fear, lies—whatever it takes to keep us from coming after him. He killed some of our most skilled agents. That alone is an act of war."
A third voice joined in—calm, but no less intense. "Armin has killed enough. We've waited too long. We thought we could monitor him, contain him. That was a mistake. We should have acted when we had the chance."
"We should have killed him before he ever built up that army of his," another leader agreed, his voice sharp with regret.
"He's a threat to every single nation on this planet," the first leader said, standing up. "This isn't just one man with delusions of power anymore. He's demonstrated the capability and the willingness to slaughter spies, manipulate armies, and disrupt global stability. Now he's speaking about some unknown force that's supposedly going to wipe out all of humanity? Enough of this madness!"
There was a long pause in the room. The leaders exchanged looks—some uncertain, others determined. Then, the same leader broke the silence.
"I say we launch a full military campaign against him. Assemble our forces, combine our intelligence, and take him down before he becomes even more powerful. This is war now. We can't sit on our hands any longer."
Another nodded in agreement. "He has crossed the line too many times. We need to bring Armin down before he causes even more destruction."
"I'll mobilize our air units," one of the generals offered. "If we act fast, we can catch him before he regroups."
"Coordinate with every nation that's willing to join," the lead commander said. "We attack together, and we attack hard. If Armin wants war, then war is what he'll get."
But amidst all the fervor, one older leader sat quietly, deep in thought. He had heard Armin's message, the part most others ignored—the warning of something coming that no single country could stop alone. His instincts whispered that this wasn't just about Armin anymore. Something bigger was moving beneath the surface. Something far worse than any of them were prepared to face.
Still, the room erupted into agreement, the decision made: they would gather their forces and march to war.
But none of them could see what was truly coming.