“I am a businessman at heart, Captain.
I believe we can come to an understanding.” Von Raj Agnas took a slow, measured step forward, the corners of his mouth twitching into a perfectly tailored, gentlemanly smile.
He brushed a speck of gray ash from his immaculate suit jacket, his crimson pupils reflecting the sunlight with chilling intelligence.
“What you witnessed just now was merely an act of self-defense.
If you were sitting comfortably inside your own home, and a pack of rabid dogs tried to force their way through your door…
would you simply watch them?
Or would you push them back outside?” Zaiden didn’t lower his hands.
His expression remained as unyielding as a stone monolith.
Von Raj’s gaze drifted lazily past the captain’s shoulder, locking directly onto the amnesiac boy crouching in the corner.
“In fact, I am quite curious.
May I have a brief word with the young man over there?
The one with the black hair?” BOOM.
Zaiden didn’t move his feet, but a sudden, terrifyingly heavy pressure exploded from his body.
It wasn’t standard elemental light or flame; it was a raw, crushing manifestation of absolute Astral pressure that localized the atmosphere in a split second.
The air became thick, suffocating, and reeked of dense kinetic gravity.
Beside him, Jahek gasped, clutching his stomach as a violent wave of nausea threatened to make him throw up.
Even the monstrous Kapre and Tikbalang shifted their weight, their bestial eyes widening as the ground beneath Zaiden’s boots cracked under the sheer weight of his aura.
“Try to take one more step,” Zaiden said, his voice flat, piercing, and entirely devoid of mercy.
“And those things you just said will be your last words.” Von Raj froze, his refined posture stiffening for a fraction of a second before he raised his gloved hands in a smooth, defensive gesture.
The smile returned to his face, though it was noticeably tighter.
“Geez.
Fine, fine.
There is no need for such hostility, Captain.
I actually wanted to thank you all for coming.
I was the one who personally called for help regarding our current issue.” Von Raj dusted off his lapels, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly.
“Though, I must admit, I didn’t know you were the ones sent by the guild.
No one bothered to visit our border outpost.” Hearing those words, a sudden memory flashed through Zaiden’s mind.
He could still hear Xan’s sharp, annoyed voice echoing from the evening before: You’re the Captain of this squad.
Check in at the border outposts before you start swinging your fists so the locals know you’re official Cullers.
Damn it, Zaiden thought to himself, his expression remaining perfectly blank to hide his internal realization.
He had completely bypassed the protocol due to Braxley’s sudden ambush.
He cleared his throat, subtly lowering the crushing weight of his aura.
“We were caught up in an ambush by this cartel.
My apologies for the oversight.” “Ah, the cartel,” Von Raj said, casting a dismissive glance toward the groaning, broken bodies of Braxley’s men scattered across the concrete.
“Well, who are these people anyway?
Do you want to keep them?
Because if not…
I might just kill them myself.” Zaiden remained silent, his mind working rapidly beneath his calm exterior.
Something about this elegant gentleman’s story didn’t make sense.
If Von Raj and his inner circle were truly this terrifyingly strong—capable of dismantling a drug-enhanced cartel with their bare hands—why would they ever need to hire the Culler to handle an abnormal white walker?
It wasn’t as if slaughtering monsters was illegal in this lawless, post-apocalyptic era.
There were no laws left to bind them.
So why seek external help?
Keeping his suspicion tightly guarded, Zaiden gave a cold nod.
“Guide us to the site.
We’ll handle the investigation.” “Right this way,” Von Raj smiled.
Little did the Cullers know, the entire sequence of events had been flawlessly orchestrated by the gentleman in the suit.
Von Raj was the one who had intentionally released the Calamitous-rank abnormal walker into his own yard, explicitly using it as bait to force the guild to deploy a squad.
Word from his underground informants had reached his ears about a bizarre anomaly at the shipping docks—a boy without a single spark of Astral energy who could manipulate a thick, pitch-black biological fluid.
The description had triggered a deeply rooted, ancient recognition in Von Raj’s evolved memory.
He needed to see the kid himself.
He had pulled the strings from the shadows, ensuring that the guild would send this exact trio to his territory.
When the group arrived at the eastern coordinate, the expected warzone was completely gone.
There was no towering, rampaging white walker.
There was no biological mutation tearing through the slums.
Instead, they found nothing but a vast, blackened crisp of an area.
A perfect circle of absolute devastation, where the earth had been melted into smooth glass and everything else had been reduced to a fine, powdery white ash.
“What is this…?” Von Raj muttered, his elegant composure fracturing for the first time.
His crimson pupils dilated in genuine, deep-seated shock.
Beside him, Kapre and Tikbalang growled softly, backing away from the perimeter.
To the evolved Gen Z, fire was not just an element—it was their ultimate, terrifying genetic weakness.
It was the only thing that could burn away their immortal cellular structure and stop their hyper-regeneration.
Looking at the sheer, grand scale of the fire damage, Von Raj’s mind immediately began racing.
He needed to gather information on the perpetrator.
Whoever could unleash a torrent of flame this hot was a mortal threat to the existence of the Encanto.
They needed a counter-strategy, and they needed it immediately.
Zaiden knelt at the edge of the glassed concrete, pressing a gloved finger into the ash.
It was still radiating an immense, unnatural heat.
“Did anyone see what happened?” Zaiden demanded, looking toward the trembling local refugees who were shivering in the shadow of a ruined brick wall.
“We…
we didn’t see anyone, Culler,” an old man stammered, his hands shaking violently.
“There was just a sudden roar, and then a literal tower of fire grew out of the dirt.
It engulfed the massive white walker in seconds.
There was no one controlling it.
No one suspicious in the area.
The flames just appeared out of nowhere.” Jahek stepped up beside Ambo, his usual jolly demeanor completely swallowed by the eerie quiet of the ash.
“A Calamitous-rank threat…
wiped out in seconds without leaving a single trace of evidence.
Whoever did this wants to keep themselves completely hidden.” Ambo stared into the center of the burnt circle.
The strange, throbbing ache behind his ribs had suddenly stopped, replaced by a lingering, warm static in the air.
He didn’t know why, but the smell of the smoke felt deeply, sorrowfully familiar.
Miles back in the canyon, the dust was finally settling over the warehouse ruins.
Braxley the Slaver groaned, his eyelids fluttering open as the pooling blood from his fractured skull trickled down his neck.
The telekinetic light in his eyes was gone, replaced by pure, cowardly panic.
He looked around, seeing the lifeless bodies of his lieutenant and his grunts.
“Damn it…
damn it all…” Braxley whimpered, digging his fingers into the dirt as he dragged his broken body backward.
He needed to run.
He needed to find a safe zone, regroup his remaining surface factions, and plan a different way to survive.
He managed to pull himself into the shadow of a rusted iron container, panting heavily.
“I’ll kill them…
I’ll kill that kid, I’ll kill Zaiden, I’ll—” Slitherrr.
A wet, sickening sound echoed from the top of the container.
Braxley froze, his breath catching in his throat.
Before he could even lift his head to look up, a shadow dropped from the roof.
Out of the darkness, an impossibly long, muscular, and glistening wet tongue shot forward like a leather whip.
The tongue wrapped violently around Braxley’s throat, the brute force of the impact crushing his windpipe instantly.
“Gah—!” Braxley choked, his hands clawing desperately at the wet, fleshy muscle binding his neck.
His legs kicked wildly against the dirt, but his telekinesis wouldn’t activate through the absolute suffocation.
Standing atop the shipping container was a twisted, human-like entity whose jaw was unhinged to an unnatural degree, allowing the massive tongue to extend directly from his throat.
This was Tiktik, another elite, evolved member of the Encanto.
He had been secretly assigned by Von Raj to tail the cartel from the very beginning.
Von Raj Agnas left nothing to chance.
If the Cullers were going to investigate his territory, every piece of loose evidence had to be permanently wiped from the face of the earth.
Tiktik let out a low, guttural hiss as he tightened the muscular tongue, pulling Braxley’s lifting body off the ground.
With a single, sharp snap, the slaver’s neck buckled.
Braxley’s hands dropped limp against his sides, his eyes rolling back into his head as his final, cowardly escape was cut short in the dark.
The evidence was clear.
The shadows of the East were narrowing, and the game had officially begun.