The temporary Interpol base was alive with tension, though no one dared call it out loud.
The recruits sat stiff, some hunched over their notes, others staring at the board as if sheer focus could stop their hands from shaking.
The walls themselves felt too thin for the pressure inside.
It wasn’t glamorous—this wasn’t the clean heroics movies promised.
It was a dingy outpost where nerves and silence held stronger than the steel in their guns.
For some, this was their first mission.
For others, it might be their last stop.
Tom’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
Steady.
Calculated.
Trying to keep the room anchored.
“Two teams here, splitting on this axis,” he said, marker tapping against the board.
“Rotation of guards every fifteen minutes—we strike between intervals.
Quick, clean, efficient.
That’s the plan.”
Nods followed.
Some recruits nodded too quickly, eager to look ready.
Others hesitated, slower, betraying their unease.
And then—
The door opened.
Not rushed.
Not slammed.
Just the slow grind of hinges, deliberate enough to freeze the air mid-breath.
Every head turned.
Bootsteps followed.
Heavy, slow, unhurried.
Each one echoed like it owned the floor.
The murmurs started low, like a ripple in a pond.
“…that’s—”
“No way—”
“Wait, is that…?”
And then the name broke through the whispers like lightning:
“Kyle.”
The room changed instantly.
Some recruits stiffened in fear, others leaned away instinctively, eyes wide.
The General of the Phantoms wasn’t a rumor anymore—he was here, in their base, breathing the same air.
He walked in dressed all black.
Jacket unzipped just enough to show the pistol at his side, holster gleaming under the weak light.
His hands were shoved deep in his pockets, posture loose, but his presence dragged the weight of a battlefield behind it.
No smile.
No swagger.
Just a heavy silence that followed him like shadow.
He stopped in front of Touya.
Lifted his eyes just enough to meet his.
And with a voice that sounded more like exhaustion than respect, he spoke:
“Good morning, sire.
I brought the info you asked for yesterday.
The contacts.
The networks.”
The word sire detonated like a grenade.
The base erupted in whispers.
“He called him—”
“No way—”
“Did he just—”
“Touya?
Sire?!”
Seventeen.
Touya was seventeen.
Kyle was eighteen.
That single year between them was all the difference in the world.
One was already a living ghost story, a general who ruled Europe’s underground.
The other was just a boy with sharp eyes and a plan.
And yet—Kyle bent his head first.
The recruits looked back and forth between them like they’d just seen reality split open.
Some of them couldn’t even process it.
Touya didn’t move.
He didn’t flinch.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, voice steady, sharp as glass.
“Oh.
Right.
Thanks.
Leave them there.”
Kyle set a thick folder down on the desk.
It hit with a heavy thud.
Pages slid forward inside, spilling like weighty proof of his loyalty.
Tom’s jaw tightened.
He stared at Kyle like a wolf cornered by something it couldn’t quite predict.
His voice was hard, demanding:
“Kyle.
Since you’re here—what’s your opinion on our plan?”
The room held its breath.
Kyle didn’t answer.
Not yet.
He turned instead, looking at Touya.
Not at Tom.
Not at the board.
At Touya.
Waiting.
Asking silently for permission.
The entire room caught it.
The power dynamic.
The shift.
Touya gave him a single nod.
Barely more than the tilt of his chin.
Kyle turned back to the board.
His eyes scanned the lines and circles Tom had drawn, slow and unimpressed.
He studied it for a moment that stretched too long, letting the recruits stew in the silence.
Then, finally, he spoke.
His voice was flat.
Almost bored.
“…You guys don’t know much, do you?”
The words fell like a hammer.
And the room went completely, utterly silent.
The silence after Kyle’s last words sat like a weight pressing down on everyone’s chests.
Tom narrowed his eyes, refusing to back down.
“…What do you mean by that?” he asked, voice low but edged with steel.
Kyle raised his head just enough to meet Tom’s gaze.
His eyes were dull, heavy-lidded, like someone too tired to care about playing nice.
He exhaled slowly through his nose before answering, his tone flat as stone.
“I mean your information’s outdated.
You’re planning to walk into a place that doesn’t even exist anymore.
You’ve been building your strategy on air.”
The room bristled.
Murmurs broke out instantly.
“Outdated—?”
“He can’t be serious—”
“Interpol’s intel doesn’t just go stale—”
Kyle ignored them all.
He reached forward, tapping the map Tom had drawn with two fingers, dragging them across the surface like he was erasing the lines with nothing more than touch.
It’s divided.
Three levels.
Three cells.”
He paused, and the recruits leaned closer despite themselves.
“The entry.
The children’s cell.
The animal cages.”
The whispers died at that second word.
Children.
Touya straightened, eyes narrowing.
His voice cut across the air before anyone else could react.
“…Children’s cell?
What are you talking about?”
Kyle’s gaze shifted to him, as if he had expected the interruption.
He spoke with the same lazy flatness, but now the words carried a blade’s edge.
“They’re trafficking and experimenting.
Using kids.
Trying to build living weapons.
It’s a new project—too new.
No results yet.
But the attempt is there.”
The recruits recoiled.
Some cursed under their breath.
One slammed a fist on the table.
“That’s—!”
“No way, that’s too—”
“They wouldn’t—”
The disbelief churned like a storm.
Some voices trembled in anger, others in denial.
Kyle didn’t flinch.
He didn’t even blink.
He just kept talking, slicing through their noise.
“The third part is the animal cages.
That’s where your mission is aimed.
That’s where the real guards are.”
He took his hands out of his pockets for the first time, folding them loosely across his chest.
His tone dropped colder.
“The entry is guarded by swarms.
Giant bees.
Scorpions.
You kill one, it doesn’t matter—they don’t die with their sting.
They’ll keep coming.
Hundreds at a time.”
Disbelief turned to unease.
Some recruits shifted in their chairs.
A few tried to laugh under their breath but the sound cracked, brittle and nervous.
“The children’s cell,” Kyle continued, voice as calm as if he were reading off a shopping list, “is guarded by bulls.
Not normal bulls.
Massive.
Bigger than elephants.
With golden horns.
You can’t dodge one.
If it charges, you either stop it… or you get crushed.”
The room froze.
One recruit whispered, “That’s impossible…” Another muttered, “What kind of monsters…”
Kyle ignored them.
“And the animal cell—the third level—is protected by the Beast Tamer’s pet.” He let the words hang for a moment, then added with a cruel edge: “The lion Hercules killed.”
Silence.
True silence.
Someone laughed, a sharp, panicked bark of disbelief.
“The Nemean Lion?
Are you insane?
That’s—”
Kyle cut him off without looking.
“It doesn’t die.
Claws that shear steel.
Hide tougher than your bullets.
Rumor says it could level a city in less than a day if it was unleashed.”
The disbelief began breaking into something heavier—fear.
Recruits looked at one another, their eyes darting, as if searching for confirmation this was all some elaborate joke.
But Kyle’s face never changed.
Calm.
Bored.
Dead serious.
He leaned forward, resting both hands on the edge of the table.
“Your tranquilizers?
Useless.
They’re too strong for that.
You’ll need what the Phantoms already made—specialized tranquilizers, tuned for these things.
Otherwise you’re walking in to die.”
He tapped the board once, each word striking like a nail hammered into their chests.
“To beat the guards, you defeat their bosses.
At the entry, it’s a hybrid—half bee, half scorpion.
The second level—one of the bulls.
The size of an elephant.
With horns of gold.
And the last… the lion.
Strongest of them all.
The one your bullets can’t scratch.”
The recruits whispered frantically now.
Some shaking their heads.
Some pale, some sweating.
One muttered, “This is suicide…” Another: “This can’t be real, it can’t—”
Kyle ignored them all.
His eyes lifted to Touya.
“And in the basement,” he said quietly, “there’s something else.
Another beast.
Said to be able to take a city in less than a day.”
Touya’s expression didn’t shift immediately.
Then, slowly, a sharp smile cut across his face.
“…The blue creature.”
Kyle’s gaze didn’t confirm it.
He just stayed still.
But the room caught that smile.
And it froze them all more than the horrors Kyle had listed.
Because while everyone else sat in disbelief, Touya looked like a boy who had just heard exactly what he wanted.
The room had gone thick with silence again, but this time it wasn’t from shock—it was from weight.
Tom wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, though he tried to do it subtly.
The recruits noticed anyway.
Everyone was waiting for him to say something, to take control back before it spiraled.
Finally, he straightened his posture and said, his voice strained but firm, “We’ll be divided into three parts.
One team for the animals.
One for the children.
And one… to get the Beast Tamer himself.”
The tension broke into startled whispers.
Everyone knew what that meant—splitting their forces thin.
Others tightened their jaws like they were trying to swallow fear whole.
Tom looked at Kyle.
“Can we get those tranquilizers your people made?”
For the first time, Kyle hesitated.
His eyes didn’t move to Tom.
Instead, they slid toward the side of the room where Touya had been.
But Touya wasn’t there—not really.
He was sitting, sure, but his gaze was fixed far off, pupils unfocused, a faint smile ghosting across his lips.
Lost.
Fantasizing.
And everyone knew exactly what he was imagining.
The blue creature.
Kyle’s lips twitched, almost into a smile, but instead he said, tone cool and careless, “I don’t have permission to give you that.”
The room exploded.
“Liar!” someone shouted from the back.
“You just don’t want to share it!”
“You’d rather we go in blind and die—!”
Anger bounced off the walls.
Some recruits were on their feet, fists clenched.
The air was sharp, buzzing with resentment.
“Enough!” Tom barked, his voice cracking like a whip.
His eyes shot to Touya.
“Touya!”
The name was a command.
It yanked him back from whatever fantasy had claimed him.
He blinked once, then turned his gaze toward Kyle.
“…Yeah,” he said, voice light, almost teasing.
“Kyle, help us out.”
He slung an arm around Kyle’s neck, leaning into him with a grin.
His eyes sparkled like he was enjoying the moment far too much.
Kyle stiffened.
His jaw tightened, his expression souring as if Touya’s playful gesture was more irritating than anything the recruits had said.
But Touya didn’t let go.
Tom exhaled, long and heavy.
“With that out of the way… here’s the plan.”
He pointed to the board again, jabbing at the map with his marker.
“Y’all will jump in from a plane.
First contact is the bees.
Half of the first group will deal with the swarms.
The rest will push through the entry.
Once the hybrid boss is taken down, you’ll use the confusion to lead the animals out.
We’ve got a giant truck lined up.
All the rescued animals will be loaded into it.”
His finger slid across the diagram.
“The children will be kept in the passenger side of the truck.
Half of the second group will deal with the bulls the same way—hit the boss, create chaos, pull the kids out.”
He circled the deepest part of the base.
“And the third group will take care of the lion.
Since it can’t be penetrated by normal means, it’ll have to drink the tranquilizers.
Don’t ask me how—you’ll have to figure that out on-site.”
A low ripple of dread went through the recruits, but Tom pressed on, his voice hard.
“As for Sulaiman—the Beast Tamer—he’ll be taken alive.
I’ll lead that team personally.”
“I’d like to be part of that team,” Touya said suddenly.
Tom didn’t even look at him.
“Denied.
Your strength will be needed against the bulls.”
Touya leaned forward, eyes sharp.
“Let me in.
I can take him.”
“I said no.”
Touya’s jaw flexed.
His teeth grit.
Then he swore—loud, sharp, filthy words that made some of the younger recruits flinch—and shoved back from his chair.
He stormed to the window, slamming his hand against the frame as he glared out at nothing.
The room held its breath.
Kyle’s eyes burned holes into Tom.
His usual mask of boredom cracked, anger visible in the set of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils.
He looked at Tom with pure contempt, his expression saying clearer than words: Who the hell do you think you are?
Then Kyle’s mouth curved into a smirk.
He spoke without looking away from Touya.
“Oh, that’s too bad.
Guess you won’t be needing those tranquilizers after all.”
Touya turned, caught the look, and smirked back.
Their eyes locked.
Two predators grinning at each other in the middle of a room full of prey.
“Don’t act like children,” Tom snapped.
His voice cracked with frustration.
“Both of you.”
But neither of them stopped smiling.
Tom’s hand clenched into a fist.
His knuckles went white.
“Fine.
Fine!
Touya, you’ll be on the team capturing Sulaiman.”
Touya’s grin widened.
He crossed the room in a few steps and threw an arm around Kyle again, this time with force, hugging him in that rough, guyish way that was half-gratitude, half-mockery.
“Thanks, bro,” he said, voice playful.
Kyle just clicked his tongue in annoyance but didn’t shrug him off.
Tom sighed, shoulders heavy, before continuing.
“After Sulaiman is arrested, after the animal bosses are taken down and the children rescued—the entire base will be locked down by Interpol.
Mission over.”
He stepped back, scanning the room.
“Questions?”
A hand shot up.
“What if the tranquilizers fail on the lion?”
Tom hesitated only a second.
“Then you improvise.
Stall it.
Survive until Touya or Kyle step in.”
Another voice.
“What about the children?
If they’re being experimented on, how do we stabilize them?”
Tom’s face darkened.
“…Medical teams are already on standby.
Just get them out.”
A third voice, sharp and nervous.
“And the blue creature?”
Tom’s jaw tightened.
“…That’s above your clearance.
Move on.”
The room stayed quiet after that.
Kyle stretched his arms lazily, like he was already done being here.
He started walking toward the exit, hands sliding back into his pockets.
“I’ll send my boys to bring the tranquilizers,” he said, his tone playful but carrying an undertone of respect.
He tilted his head back toward Touya with the faintest smile.
“See you later… your Highness.”
And with that, he slipped out, leaving the room buzzing in silence.