OLD-WORLD EXTRA

Eight hunter group leaders were present.

Maharajah wasn't there; the group couldn't contact him.

He just didn't reply no matter how many times they asked for a report.

But they didn't worry.

It wasn't the first time he had done something like that.

Besides, his status appeared normal, with no severe injuries or blood loss.

He was only exhausted, irritated, and likely still in the middle of combat.

Lionheart couldn't get there as well, busy healing the students near the exit.

They were still fighting their way out, and if nothing changed, it wasn't going to end any time

soon.

So with just the eight of them, Southern Cross calmly led the way.

Phoenix followed closely behind him, her heart pounding hard, hoping to find them safe. The rest walked in a formation around her, their eyes scanning their surroundings.

This section of the ruin was eerily quiet, a contrast to the explosions and gunfire from the outside.

While the front lines weren't so far behind them, the deep rumbling from beneath pushed away the noise.

Whatever the cause was, they didn't know.

They didn't try to know either.

Not a single one of them cared to find out.

It wasn't in their job description to examine the place.

Curiosity had always killed the cat, and dying wasn't something they wanted to tick off their bucket lists any time soon.

Their singular focus remained on locating the missing cohort.

If something had happened to them, or if fate forbid they died, then...

The consequences would be catastrophic.

They simply couldn't imagine what would happen to their lives.

Most of the available professors weren't idle, as they had realized that fact too.

The fighting had died down slightly, allowing them to search in other sections nearby without worrying for the lives of their fellow professors.

Their hope of finding the cohort was low, but it was certainly better than doing nothing.

But eventually, it turned out that they had wasted both their effort and time.

Further in the main station, smoke hung in the air from an unknown source, clouding eight Seraphims that walked past a few rusting trains.

They were hard to see, mixing in with the environment, and the same applied for those eight.

Even their much upgraded eyes could not see through the heavy fog.

But that didn't stop them from identifying shapes in the distance near the train tracks.

There, bodies lay scattered across the ground, unmoving.

Aquila's steps slowed as dread filled his chest.

The others beside him didn't react any better, especially Pheonix, hands trembling at her sides, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"No..."

She truly wanted to save the students-not for monetary gain or to fulfill her obligation-but simply for the sake of saving them.

Elite or not, they were kids, and this...

This horrific scene announced their failure.

"This can't be happening!"

They moved closer, and it became clear.

Sofia, Max, Ava, and Arthur lay together, their eyes closed, and their bodies-or what remained of them-burnt to a crisp.

Blood stained the ground around them, dark and dry, revealing that death had claimed them long before they arrived.

Aquila's face went pale as the reality of it all hit him like a tide.

Southern Cross clenched his fists, his jaw tight.

Shinobi lowered his head, his clothes hiding his expression.

Kalahari covered her mouth, the shadows hiding hers.

Kremlin and Iron Reich were indifferent but also slightly angry.

They had expected more from these Elite students.

They had expected more from Amon and Emir.

This wasn't supposed to happen under their watch.

And then there was Red Dragon, whose mind was already racing ahead.

Unlike the others, he didn't linger on the loss.

He was thinking of their next move, of ways to escape the Elites' wrath.

If blame were to fall on them, he knew they needed a way out.

Failure had its consequences, and he wasn't going to stick around to face them.

It wasn't just him, however.

None of them escaped the gut-wrenching realization that the lives they had fought so hard to protect were now extinguished, snuffed out like candles in the wind.

Phoenix dropped to her knees beside Sofia's body, tears welling up in her eyes.

She reached out a trembling hand, touching the girl's crisp, cold cheek.

"We were too late..."

Her murmur was barely above a whisper, filled with a raw pain that twisted in her chest.

It was a pain not only for the loss of the students but for her own future, or whatever remained of it.

The sounds of rumbling remained, but at that long moment, all they could hear was the beating of their own hearts, each for a different reason.

"W-Wait.."

But Phoeenix's sudden voice cut through all of that, ending the moment.

Something felt off.

Sofia's skin was... unusual.

Phoenix knew how burnt skin felt firsthand, and this wasn't that.

It was close to the texture, yes, but it wasn't the same.

That was enough.

Suspicion had formed.

"There's something wrong about this."

As soon as her words echoed, the air around her seemed to ripple, almost like a mirage on a

hot day.

She blinked, trying to clear her vision, but the strange distortion only grew stronger.

Suddenly, the student's bodies began to flicker, like holograms on a broken holoscreen.

Phoenix pulled back as the scene around her wavered.

The others noticed it too, and their shock turned to confusion.

"The fuck's happening?"

Aquila muttered, stepping closer to the flickering figures.

Not surprising anyone around him, he kicked the most annoying of them.

His once muscular body ragdolled across the ground, and then, with a faint shimmer, he

broke apart.

The rest followed soon after, their lifeless bodies gone, replaced by empty ground.

It didn't take the group long to understand what happened.

The entire scene had been a trick-an illusion, a trap.

Before they could react, eight shadows emerged from nearby rubble.

Then, without wasting a moment, each figure attacked one of the eight HGLS.

'Those fuckers were aiming for us since the start!'

At once, Aquila realized that these eight were completely different from what they'd faced

earlier that day.

Deacons didn't even come close to matching them.

These were the leaders of not only Templar but also the Liberation Army.

While priests could be relatively easy to deal with, based on their history record, the

"commies" would undoubtedly pose a tough challenge.

He recognized some of them and, in turn, knew that his people would die if he didn't

interrupt their ambush.

But he couldn't attack all eight at once; he wasn't fast enough.

Instead, he opted for the next best thing, tricking them into thinking that he was fast enough

to do so.

Aquila raised his assault rifle and aimed at the strongest of the lot.

It was the one who was gunning for him.

Inwardly, he chanted Illusionary Bullets and pulled the trigger.

The rifle didn't truly fire, but it sure sounded and appeared like it did.

Eight bullets 'exited' its chamber and moved faster than sound, tracking each enemy.

They were upon the figures before they could even get close enough to attack.

That forced them to defend themselves, using their weapons, which ranged from swords to a

shotgun, to block the shots.

Yet when the bullets had reached them, they dissipated on contact, taking their minds for a momentary spin.

This allowed the rest of Aquila's group enough time to counter or escape. Right after, loud clashes and gunfire resounded, the loudest of them being Aquila's.

His bayonet clanged against a LA leader's curved sword, blocking it from moving.

He was up against a Blade Dancer-one of the worst possible matchups for him. Speed had always been his major weakness; after all, a faster target was much harder to hit. Though he thought that, he still managed to react to her Flash Step.

That displayed his ample experience, resulting in a matchup that wasn't so one-sided.

Next to him, a figure cloaked in dark robes, wearing an eye visor, stood by himself.

Kalahari was his opponent, and she stepped away the moment she had a chance, slippery like

all Shadow Binders.

The air around him shimmered with Aether due to the many enchantments on his body, pump-action shotgun, and augmented suit.

Runes covered him from top to bottom like tattoos.

There was no need to guess; he was the Arcanist belonging to Templar, the one responsible

for the false vision they had seen, and he was definitely responsible for the other illusions in

the ruin as well.

His hands had caused the deaths of many.

"It's ironic how compassion saved you... making you see through my little trick."

His voice was calm, almost mocking.

"But it's too late now. Our plan is complete."

These words were the last thing they heard as chaos erupted right after.