Executioner's League-Chapter 71: The Loyal Commander of the Fallen Threat!

The lights across the

Bastille flickered violently before dying out completely, plunging the

structure into complete darkness. Silence followed—a suffocating kind of

silence only broken by the slow creaking of ancient gates being drawn open.

From the shadows emerged a tall figure draped in a black and green cloak. His

face was obscured by a gleaming helmet, marked with jagged emerald streaks that

pulsed like veins of energy. Gripping a massive sword, the stranger stepped

into the dim corridor.

"Ready for your endgame?"

the man declared, his voice echoing unnaturally.

Kael stepped forward, eyes

narrowed, visor scanning. "That's my line," he muttered. Then, turning to his

allies, "Senjuro, Kyrin—go. Head to the basement and try to override the

Bastille's control systems. I'll keep this one busy."

"You sure?" Senjuro asked,

already shifting into position.

Kael gave a firm nod. "We

can't waste time. He's mine."

Without hesitation,

Senjuro and Kyrin turned down the corridor toward the heart of the Bastille.

But the man wasn't done.

"Not so fast!" he barked, hurling a small but fast-moving knife at their backs.

In a flash, Kael dashed

sideways, spinning in a fluid counterclockwise motion. He caught the knife's

trajectory midair, redirected it, and hurled it back toward its sender. The

assassin caught it mid-flight, smiling behind his helmet.

"You're quite the

assassin," the stranger mused.

He raised both hands,

summoning a storm of energy—small glowing blades that shimmered a violent

violet and began multiplying rapidly. The blades spiraled like hornets toward

Kael, each one locked onto him with deadly precision.

Kael's visor flared, and a

holographic sequence scrolled across the interface. "Hybrid," he whispered, and

his core responded.

A radiant pulse of pure

gold exploded from his chest, bathing him in a shimmering aura. His body pulsed

with the power of Hyper Resonance Flux, and even the air around him

began to tremble.

"My core doesn't just channel

an energy," Kael said, his voice now deep and resonant. "It resonates with all

surrounding fluxes—absorbing, analyzing, and converting them into a custom

variant. You won't find another like it."

The assassin snarled,

unimpressed. "You can't outsmart me."

He snapped his fingers,

shutting down the residual flux nodes scattered across the Bastille. Lights,

sensors, and ambient energy faded as his manipulation of the environment took

root.

But Kael merely smirked.

"You really don't understand what Resonance means."

He spread his arms.

"Resonate."

In an instant, his flux

adapted, extending invisible threads throughout the darkness. As they touched

the residual remnants of deactivated flux, it reignited under Kael's control.

His aura pulsed brighter. His breath slowed. His entire body now radiated with

raw synergy between his energy and the environment.

The assassin's posture

shifted. "You infused flux directly with your chakra... That's a move I've never

seen."

Then he vanished.

Kael's sensors flared.

"Fast one."

The man reappeared behind

him, dual daggers poised to strike, each blade lined with sharp black

serrations. But Kael's reflexes were already primed. His dagger met the strike

with a sharp clang, halting the assassin's momentum. With a swift leap, Kael backflipped

mid-air and launched a set of triangular, glinting blades.

The enemy dodged, spinning

and weaving through them like liquid shadow. But that was Kael's plan.

Each blade, embedded with

flux tracking codes, had lured the assassin into a tighter space. Kael landed,

both arms crossed over his chest as he activated his attack.

"Spirit Flame Breaker!"

From Kael's hand erupted a

searing storm of celestial red fire—its heat shimmering with echoes of

Hypernova Shine Flux, enhanced through resonance. His visor locked on the

target. A circle formed on-screen, glowing red with an "X" marked above the

heart—his exposed vital point.

He struck.

The firestorm hit the

assassin dead-on, blowing him back into the wall. A shockwave rippled through

the room, and the corridor glowed from the radiant aftershock. The man crashed

onto his knees; helmet cracked.

His breathing was heavy,

staggered.

But Kael lowered his

weapon slowly. "Wait..."

The helmet clattered to

the floor, and a face was revealed—middle aged, surprisingly so, with pale eyes

and worn features. Not the cold mask of a hardened killer, but a haunted gaze

filled with something deeper.

This wasn't one of the

Organization Z elite assassins. Kael's expression darkened.

"You're not one of them,"

he said quietly. "Who sent you?"

The man didn't answer.

Instead, he looked up with pained clarity. "They told me it was the only way to

free him... The only way to bring him back..."

"Who?" Kael demanded.

But before the assassin

could speak again, a burst of static came from Kael's earpiece.

"Kael, it's Senjuro—we've

secured partial control of the Bastille. But it's not clean. Someone else is

still linked to the core systems. You need to get down here."

Kael's gaze didn't leave

the fallen attacker. "Understood. I'll be there in moments."

He turned and sprinted

toward the corridor, leaving the man unconscious but alive, left for the team

to retrieve and question.

As Kael ran, he tapped

into the team comms. "We have a bigger issue. Someone's pulling strings—this

attacker wasn't Z, but was fed lies. I think we're in the middle of something

larger than we thought."

"Good," Senjuro replied

grimly. "Then we're getting closer to the truth."

Kael sprinted into the

darkness, eyes burning with clarity. The Bastille still held its secrets, and

he was ready to unearth every last one of them.

Senjuro and Kyrin stepped

into the dim-lit chamber where the mysterious man stood, his posture calm yet

guarded. Senjuro's voice echoed through the silence.

"Who are you?"

The man straightened, his

cloak brushing against the stone floor as he turned. "Zenyin Wysper," he

replied coolly. "You can call me the Warden."

Kael narrowed his eyes,

stepping forward. "Now speak up. How are you here? And what is your true

connection to this place?"

Zenyin let out a tired

breath. "It's a long story," he said, his voice carrying the weight of years.

"I was once an A-Rank assassin of Aqualis. My team and I were dispatched to

infiltrate the Bastille and recover Dr. Kaelon Heshira. But the mission went sideways.

We found no trace of the doctor. Instead, we were ambushed by forces loyal to

Eryx Heshira."

Senjuro leaned in,

curious. "You survived that?"

"Barely," Zenyin said. "I

fought until the last man fell. I was critically wounded and left for dead. But

the villagers who lived deep in the forest... they found me. They nursed me back

to health, gave me shelter, food, protection."

Kyrin blinked in surprise.

"There's a village down here?"

Zenyin nodded. "Yes.

Hidden at the edge of the ravine that stretches below the Bastille. But things

changed... when one of Eryx's most loyal commanders found us. He took control

and forced me to operate the Bastille systems on his behalf. For the past thirteen

years, I've been his puppet."

"Do you remember the name

of that commander?" Kyrin asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

Zenyin shook his head. "He

never showed his face. Always cloaked in shadows. I only knew him by his voice.

Ruthless. Calculated. Always watching."

Kael's brows lifted.

"Thirteen years... that's a long time to be in hiding."

Suddenly, a strange

vibration pulsed from Senjuro's jacket. He reached into his pocket and pulled

out a jagged, crystalline object.

"It's the Phantom Shard,"

he said, surprised. "The one I found on Eryx Heshira's corpse after our final

battle."

Zenyin's eyes flicked

toward the shard. "You also have the keycard, don't you? The one embedded with

that same shard's material."

Senjuro blinked. "Yes.

After my first mission, during the celebration, a man in black landed in a

chopper and gave it to me. I didn't recognize him."

Zenyin gave a slow nod.

"That was me. I gave you that card as a marker—of hope. Of one day being freed

from this prison."

Kael stepped forward,

skeptical. "If that's true, why didn't you or the villagers ever reach out to

us?"

Zenyin hesitated. Sweat

beaded on his brow. "W-We had no resources to contact the outside. We were

trapped."

Kyrin frowned. "Where

exactly is this village?"

"Down in the forest

ravine, southeast of the Bastille," Zenyin replied, voice wavering slightly.

But Kael's expression had

hardened. "Zenyin Wysper... your name doesn't appear in any post-war Aqualis

assassin records. They recovered all missing data by 2046. How is it that

you're not there?"

The room grew still.

Zenyin's eyes darkened. His demeanor shifted—less exhausted, more calculating.

"I... That's because my

service predates the war," he stammered.

"Not good enough," Kael

snapped. "All data, even pre-war files, have been restored."

Then, in a sudden flash,

Zenyin's hand darted toward his cloak. A blade shimmered into view, and he

lunged—aiming straight for Senjuro.

But Kael was faster. In a

blur of motion, he intercepted the strike, locking Zenyin's wrist and twisting

the blade from his hand.

"Your time's up," Kael

hissed. "Who are you really?"

Zenyin broke free and

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dashed backward, his stance shifting into that of a trained killer. His voice

was now venomous.

"I am Zenyin Wysper,

yes—but not the man you thought. I was Eryx Heshira's most loyal commander. His

shadow. His blade in the dark."

Senjuro took a step

forward, fury rising in his voice. "You had us fooled—but not anymore."

Kael raised a hand.

"Senjuro, Kyrin—go. Find that village. Free the people."

Senjuro gave a sharp nod.

"On it."

The two of them sprinted

toward the exit, but Zenyin raised his hands and roared, "Not so fast!"

Dozens of Hydro-Solar

Spheres burst from the floor, glowing blue and gold, hurling themselves toward

Senjuro and Kyrin. But Kael was already in motion.

"Try stopping them first,"

he whispered.

"Counter Voidstep."

He blinked through space,

appearing in front of the projectiles, his dagger-scythe—Xalvareth—already

in hand. With a sweeping arc, he deflected the spheres effortlessly, each

impact sending ripples of shock through the walls.

Turning to Zenyin, Kael's

voice was steel.

"This ends now."

Zenyin drew his dual

hydroblades. "Then let it begin."

The room exploded into

chaos.

Kael surged forward,

Xalvareth glowing with Hyper Resonance Flux, adapting to every pulse of energy

in the Bastille. Zenyin countered with brutal speed, but Kael read every

move—his visors scanning, mapping, predicting.

Blades clashed. Sparks

danced. The war between two elite warriors ignited in a dance of skill and

power.

Meanwhile, Senjuro and

Kyrin dashed through the iron corridors, weaving through locked chambers and

collapsed halls. With the coordinates Zenyin gave them, they raced toward the

hidden entrance of the ravine village, hearts pounding.

The deeper they went, the

clearer the truth became: Zenyin was never a prisoner. He was the gatekeeper,

the manipulator... the executioner.

But they would break his

grip. No matter the cost.

Back in the chamber, Kael

whispered, "Spirit Flame Breaker." Red celestial flames burst from his scythe,

crashing toward Zenyin, who barely dodged. The blast cracked the wall behind

him, sending debris flying.

Zenyin gritted his teeth.

"You're stronger than I anticipated."

"You have no idea," Kael

replied, eyes blazing.

This wasn't just a battle.

It was a reckoning.

And only one would stand

in the end.