Chapter 156: Mission

Here’s your scene expanded to 1200 words, starting and stopping exactly where you did:

Tongen stepped away after his phone began to ring, leaving the room thick with curiosity. Minutes passed—longer than expected. When he finally returned, his expression had changed.

He stood before them in silence, studying their faces as if weighing something heavy.

Then, with a commanding voice that cut through the air, he declared, “We have a mission.”

The words struck like lightning.

Jelo felt her pulse quicken. Atlas straightened instantly, eyes wide with excitement.

“So soon?” Atlas breathed. “I didn’t think they’d call us in this fast.”

“So what’s the mission about?” Atlas asked, leaning forward.

Tongen shrugged slightly. “Nothing much. Some Dabas have been spotted on the outskirts of the city. You were assigned to deal with them. That’s all.”

Atlas blinked.

That’s it?

He almost couldn’t believe how casually Tongen said it — the way someone might mention picking up groceries or closing a window. No urgency. No weight behind the words. Was he that skilled? That powerful? Atlas wondered, studying the man’s face for some kind of hint.

Then he reconsidered.

Even Jelo could probably handle something like this alone. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Mira could hold her ground to some extent too. They were capable. They’d trained. They weren’t helpless.

But Atlas?

He was the only one who still needed help. He couldn’t face multiple Dabas alone — not yet. That truth settled in his chest like a stone, quiet but heavy.

Without wasting time, they got into Tongen’s car. Nobody spoke much. The city blurred past the windows and slowly gave way to something rawer — wider streets, fewer people, the kind of silence that only showed up when something had already gone wrong.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the scene.

The outskirts were chaotic. Buildings cracked open like broken teeth. Smoke hung low in the air, thick and grey, carrying the smell of something burning that had no business burning. Civilians ran in every direction — stumbling, shouting, clutching children and bags and whatever else they hadn’t let go of in the panic.

Tongen stepped out calmly.

He looked around once, read the scene the way someone reads a page they’ve already memorized, and turned to face the group.

“So here’s the plan. Mira, Atlas — evacuate anyone nearby. Get them to safety.”

“And Jelo?” Atlas asked.

“You support me,” Tongen replied, already looking elsewhere.

“Go, go, go!”

Atlas and Mira immediately dashed off into the chaos, cutting through crowds, guiding people away from the worst of it.

Jelo remained beside Tongen.

The noise around them grew louder — crashing, roaring, the distant sound of something massive moving through concrete like it was paper.

“So what do I do?” Jelo asked, facing him.

Tongen didn’t even look at him.

“Just watch me,” he said, stepping forward.

Jelo’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to watch. I can help too. Isn’t that why we’re here?”

Tongen paused.

It was brief — barely a second — but it was real. He actually considered it.

“…Fine,” he said. “Let’s do this instead. Let’s see who can take down the highest number of Dabas.”

Jelo grinned. “Now that sounds better.”

They both launched forward.

The battle erupted.

Dabas — towering reptilian creatures over six feet tall — roared as they charged from every direction, claws scraping against asphalt, bodies crashing through what remained of storefronts and fences.

Tongen moved first.

No powers. No flashy techniques. No buildup, no announcement.

Just raw physical strength.

Every punch cracked the air like a thunderclap. Every kick sent a Daba flying — not stumbling, not staggering, but fully airborne, crashing into whatever was behind it. He moved through them like water through cracks, effortless, unhurried, almost bored. He wasn’t even trying.

Meanwhile, Jelo went all out.

Flames erupted from his fists, hot and sharp and orange at the edges. His dragon claws extended, slicing through scales that should have been difficult to cut. Scale guard hardened around his body in thick, layered plates, absorbing impact and reforming where it cracked. Then came the dragon armor — blazing with heat, heavier, more complete, the kind of transformation that cost something to maintain.

He fought fiercely. He used everything he had, pulling from each ability in turn, stacking them where he could.

One Daba.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Breathing hard, sweat cutting through the ash on his face, Jelo finished off his fifth opponent and spun around looking for another target.

But then—

He froze.

Dabas were piled high across the battlefield. Bodies scattered in every direction, some still twitching, most completely still. The ground was torn up. The air smelled like ozone and burnt scale.

And Tongen stood in the middle of it all.

Untouched.

Calm.

His breathing was even. His clothes were barely disturbed. He looked like he had stepped outside for air, not walked through a battlefield.

“You’ve got to be kidding me…” Jelo muttered, clearly frustrated — not at Tongen exactly, but at the gap. The undeniable, humbling gap.

Tongen glanced at him.

A faint smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. Small, but real.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

“The information I was given about you says you’re F-rank,” Tongen said calmly. “But after sparring with you… and after watching you fight those Dabas… something clearly isn’t right.”

He stepped closer, eyes sharp and steady and not unkind — just precise.

“So are you going to tell me what’s really going on?”

Jelo looked at him.

He had expected this question eventually. He just hadn’t expected it now, here, with smoke still in the air and his armor barely cooled. He shouldn’t have shown so much. He hadn’t thought Tongen would be paying attention to him during the fight — he had assumed Tongen would be too focused on the Dabas, too caught up in his own rhythm to notice what was happening ten meters away.

But that was his mistake.

Tongen wasn’t just strong.

He was observant. The kind of observant that didn’t announce itself, didn’t ask questions mid-fight or make a show of watching. It just absorbed. Catalogued. Filed everything away for exactly this moment.

Jelo exhaled quietly.

“When I was tested for my ability,” he said carefully, “I was ranked F-class. That’s all there is to it.”

Even as the words left his mouth, he knew how they sounded. Hollow. Like something recited rather than remembered.

Tongen’s expression didn’t change.

“An F-rank doesn’t fight like that,” he replied.

Silence fell between them, sitting heavy in the space where an explanation should have been.

Jelo held his gaze and didn’t look away.

Because deep down—

They both knew the ranking system had either made a mistake…

Or Jelo was hiding something far bigger.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep