Chapter 49: Blade at the Throat

Shin Lu inclined his head in quiet agreement, the motion subtle but final. “We can talk more after you have rested,” he said, his voice carrying the calm authority that seemed to settle the room without effort.

“That would be appreciated,” Jane replied. Though her posture remained straight and alert, exhaustion had begun to creep into the edges of her voice. Her eyes moved once more across the holographic map before she stepped back, already shifting her focus toward recovery and preparation for whatever came next.

“Hector, please show them to the Mont Blanc store. There should be fresh clothes and some food there already,” Shin Lu instructed.

A man stepped forward from near the doorway. He was slightly shorter than Shin Lu, broad-shouldered, with a kind, approachable face that contrasted with the hardened atmosphere of the command center. His prosthetic left arm gleamed faintly under the artificial lights, its mechanical joints moving with smooth, practiced ease.

“Right this way, everyone,” Hector said warmly, gesturing toward the exit.

Jane gave a brief nod and moved first, her leadership instinctively guiding the group out of the room. Porpo lingered for a moment, still staring at the glowing city map, her eyes narrowed in thought as if memorizing every marker and color. Jane reached back, grasped her arm, and gently tugged her along.

“Come on, Porpo,” she said.

Porpo allowed herself to be pulled away, though she glanced over her shoulder one last time at the shifting blue and red dots before disappearing into the corridor.

Lynis paused beside Leo as he passed, clapping the boy on the back with more force than necessary. Leo let out a startled yelp, nearly dropping the laptop he held.

“Steady ah, keep up the good work, kid,” Lynis said with a crooked grin and a playful wink before jogging after the others.

The room quieted as the last of them began to leave.

Jagger hesitated.

Instead of following immediately, he stepped closer to Shin Lu, the question that had been gnawing at him since the plaza finally forced its way out.

“How did you get that skill?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.

Shin Lu turned to face him fully. The man’s expression remained unreadable, but his mismatched eyes sharpened slightly as if measuring the intent behind the question.

“Instinctive skills,” he answered.

“Instinctive skills?” Jagger echoed. The phrase felt foreign on his tongue, unfamiliar and heavy with implication.

Shin Lu gave a small nod. “Before all of this happened, I was training to become a javelin thrower for the national team,” he said, the faintest hint of pride threading through his calm tone.

Jagger blinked, surprised. “Wait… how old are you?”

A chuckle escaped Shin Lu. “Twenty-five.”

“WHAT?!” The word burst out of Jagger before he could stop himself. His eyes widened in disbelief, and heat crept up the back of his neck. For a moment, he felt absurdly young standing in front of the man who had turned a battlefield with a single throw.

Shin Lu’s smile faded into something more thoughtful. “When I awakened my class as a spearman, throwing a spear felt as natural as breathing. The system recognized that instinct. It gave me a skill aligned with it. Over time, through refinement and experience, that skill evolved into what you saw outside.”

He studied Jagger for a long moment. “What about you, kid? What is your class?”

The question landed heavier than any weapon.

Jagger hesitated, feeling the weight of Ophilia’s silence in the back of his mind. “I… I don’t have one yet,” he said at last, the lie slipping out before he could reconsider. He forced a casual shrug. “I’m eighteen, by the way,” he added under his breath, almost as if reminding himself how far behind he felt.

Shin Lu’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That is strange,” he murmured. “Most people awaken with a class the moment they survive their first real trial.” He paused, studying Jagger’s posture, the tension in his shoulders, the way he avoided eye contact. Then his expression softened, though the curiosity remained. “I have never heard of a case like that.”

He stepped aside, glancing down at the growing puddle forming around Jagger’s boots. “We will discuss this in the morning,” he said evenly. “You are getting my floor wet.”

Jagger blinked and looked down, suddenly aware of the water dripping from his clothes onto the polished marble. Embarrassment flushed across his face. “Y-yes. Thank you for your hospitality,” he said quickly, bowing his head before turning to follow the others down the hall.

Shin Lu watched him go.

The boy’s back was tense, shoulders hunched not just from fatigue but from something heavier, something unspoken. Shin Lu’s gaze lingered long after the rest of the group disappeared from view.

“Aiko,” he called quietly.

She approached without hesitation. “Yes, boss?”

“Keep an eye on them,” he said, his voice low enough that it barely carried beyond the room. His eyes remained fixed on the corridor where Jagger had vanished. “Especially him.”

Aiko followed his gaze, her expression sharpening with interest. “Will do, boss,” she replied.

–

The Mont Blanc store sat on the opposite corner of the floor, close to the main entrance, far from the polished glow of the Rolex command center. The contrast was immediate and jarring. Where the previous room had hummed with screens, lights, and quiet authority, this place felt forgotten.

Only a single standing lamp illuminated the interior, its weak yellow glow pooling in one corner, leaving the rest of the space swallowed in shadow. Display shelves had been stripped bare and pushed against the walls, stacked with boxes, folded clothing, and miscellaneous supplies. What had once been a luxury boutique was now little more than an improvised storage room. Functional. Unadorned. Safe.

Hector stepped aside and gestured broadly. “It’s not much,” he said apologetically, his voice echoing softly off the wooden walls, “but it’s warm and dry.” He pointed toward a cluster of crates and open boxes near the back. “You can find your sizes over there.”

Behind him came a middle-aged woman carrying a dented metal pot that steamed faintly despite the cool air, followed by a quiet man holding a stack of mismatched bowls. The woman smiled as she entered, lines creasing at the corners of her eyes.

“Eat up, everyone,” she said gently. “You must be starving.” She introduced herself as Mei, her voice calm and steady, and mentioned she was in her late forties. Her warmth felt practiced, like someone who had learned how to offer comfort even when her own reserves were long depleted. The man beside her, David, nodded in greeting. He looked to be in his fifties, his face drawn and tired, heavy bags sagging beneath his eyes. The kind of exhaustion that came from loss, not lack of sleep.

Mei set the pot and bowls near the door. “We’ve set up some sleeping bags in the back, too,” she added. “You can use them for the night.”

“Thank you!” Porpo chirped immediately, already scrambling onto a crate and digging through the pile of clothes like a child let loose in a toy store.

Lynis and Jane took a moment to survey the room before offering their thanks. Porpo, meanwhile, emerged from the clothing pile holding up a shirt and a pair of pants, her eyes wide.

“These are very expensive clothes,” she said, squinting at a dangling tag. “WOAH. Bloody hell. This one is two thousand dollars. What the…”

“Yeah,” Jagger muttered as he lowered himself onto the floor, his back resting against a stack of boxes. The adrenaline had drained from his system, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that made even sitting upright feel like an effort. “It’s a Mont Blanc store.”

Lynis let out a low whistle. “Eh, at least we die looking good, lah.” He grabbed a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, inspecting them with approval.

Jagger’s gaze drifted to Jane.

She was still on guard.

Even here, even now, her posture remained tense. Her eyes traced the room again and again, mapping corners, walls, angles. He followed her gaze, forcing himself to take note. The store had no windows. The walls were thick, reinforced wood. Jane knocked against one, listening, then frowned slightly before testing another. Cement had been poured between the panels. There was only one entrance, and even that door had been replaced with reinforced plating.

Secure.

And yet, she did not relax.

The tension in her shoulders was unmistakable.

“Alright,” Hector said after a moment, glancing around with a satisfied nod. “We’ll see you all in the morning. Rest well.”

He turned to leave with Mei and David, but before they reached the doorway, Jane moved.

“Quick Step.”

For a heartbeat, she vanished.

She reappeared directly in front of Hector, her dagger materializing in her hand as she drove it forward toward his chest. The movement was sharp, decisive, and lethal.

Hector reacted.

With a minimal shift of his body, he caught her wrist.

There was no struggle. No clash of strength.

Jane’s feet left the ground as she twisted instinctively, using her momentum to swing her other leg up in a vicious hook kick aimed at his temple. It was fast, efficient, and meant to incapacitate.

Hector ducked.

Still holding her wrist, he pulled forward and down, redirecting her momentum. Jane flipped backward and slammed into the floor on her back, the impact knocking the air from her lungs. The entire exchange lasted less than three seconds.

That was all Lynis and Porpo needed.

Lynis charged with a roar, attempting to tackle Hector head-on. Hector stepped aside with effortless precision, grabbed Lynis by the back of his collar, and hurled him back into the store. Lynis crashed into the stacked boxes at the far wall, wood and supplies collapsing around him in a noisy cascade, not before colliding with Porpo’s shoulder, disrupting her stance and causing her Gale Trigger to misfire harmlessly into the ceiling.

Then Hector moved.

He released Jane and closed the distance to Jagger in a blur. A jagged dagger appeared in his hand, its edge pressing cold and firm against Jagger’s throat.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Hector said quickly, his tone calm despite the blade. “Easy. Easy. What was that for?”

Everything froze.

Lynis pushed himself out of the wreckage of boxes, eyes wide. Porpo stood perfectly still, her hands half-raised as the magic she had been gathering dissipated into nothing. Jagger did not move. He did not even swallow. The steel at his throat felt impossibly cold.

“Guys,” he whispered hoarsely. “Calm down.”

Jane was on her feet instantly, her body coiled and ready, daggers drawn in reverse grip. Her eyes never left Hector.

“Let him go,” she said flatly.

Hector raised his prosthetic arm slightly, palm open. “You’re the one who attacked me,” he replied, genuinely confused. “I didn’t even do anything. What happened?”

Before anyone could answer, the door burst open.

Jane was slammed forward as a man grabbed her arms from behind and wrenched them back with brutal strength. He stepped into her legs, sending her face-first into the floor. Her nose struck hard, pain exploding as the smell of iron filled her senses. One dagger skittered away across the floor as his body came down on top of her, pinning her completely.

The man wore a leather vest, his hair pulled into a tight man bun, his beard thick and unkempt.

“The fuck are you doing?” he snarled.

“Kade, stand down,” Hector barked. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“Looks like a pretty fucking big misunderstanding to me,” Kade replied, shifting his weight but not releasing her. His mass crushed the air from her lungs.

“GET OFF HER!” Lynis and Porpo shouted together.

More figures rushed in.

In seconds, Lynis was kicked back down, a blade pressed to his throat by a burly woman with a shaved head. Porpo found herself staring down the barrel of a shotgun wielded by a lanky man with twitchy movements and nervous eyes.

The room had become a trap.

Kade leaned closer to Jane, his breath hot against her ear. “How dare a sweet thing like you try to kill my friend?” he whispered.

He thrust his hip into hers in a mocking motion.

He was enjoying this.

Jane’s mind went blank. A flicker of fear surfaced in her eyes, raw and unguarded. Memories she had buried clawed toward the surface. Panic tightened her chest. Her thoughts screamed, but no words left her lips.

Jagger saw it.

He saw the fear.

Something inside him snapped.

It was not a rational decision. It was not a strategy. It was instinct. A violent surge of defiance tore through him, louder than fear, louder than caution. The dagger at his throat stopped mattering. The hunters surrounding them stopped mattering.

All he saw was Jane on the ground, vulnerable.

’Don’t you fucking touch her.’

The thought was not quiet. It burned.

“Corrupted Surge.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep