——Who is the True Guardian?
The cavern trembled.
The air was thick with wild energy and chaos.
Lightning streaked through the dark, revealing shadows that writhed like living things.
Each flash lit up the stone bridge beneath Shawn's feet. It quivered with every impact.
His breath came fast and rough. His body felt near its limit.
Too many enemies.
Too much power bearing down on them.
He clenched his teeth. Sweat ran down his jaw.
Thunder rolled above.
He thrust his hands forward—crackling arcs of lightning burst out, slamming into an O.S.S. warrior.
The enemy flew back.
But before Shawn could breathe, two more stepped out of the dark.
Their blades shimmered with black energy. Cold and deadly.
"Damn it."
He dodged. A spear of dark energy hissed past, scorching the air where he'd just stood.
Master Ranzi appeared.
He moved like flowing water.
His fingers traced symbols midair, golden light spilling from his palms.
A shimmering shield flared, intercepting a blast aimed at Shawn.
But even Ranzi couldn't hold the line alone.
The monk beside them spun his staff, robes tattered and stained.
Each spin sent shockwaves rippling out, smashing enemy after enemy into the stone walls.
Still, they kept coming.
An explosion ripped through the cavern wall.
Shards of rock blasted out.
A stalactite crashed beside Shawn, bursting into fragments.
He barely dodged.
Then—Quinn stepped forward.
His cloak billowed, caught in some unseen storm.
Darkness curled around him, alive, hungry.
It fed on the charged air.
His eyes gleamed. Calm. Icy.
"Enough."
He raised a hand.
The cavern grew heavy.
The air pressed down—dense, suffocating.
Shawn's heart pounded.
His limbs froze.
Some kind of force held him still.
Quinn walked forward.
Each step echoed, dragging the battlefield into silence.
"You can't keep fighting, Shawn," he said. His voice was almost kind.
"You don't even know what you are. What you carry."
"You cling to that core like a child with a toy."
He sneered.
"But it was never yours to keep."
Shawn's fists clenched.
He forced his muscles to move.
Electricity sparked across his arms.
They trembled.
But the Thunder Arcane Core still pulsed within.
Was this it?
After everything Ranzi taught him—was he still just prey?
No.
Not today.
He roared.
Lightning exploded around him.
The crushing pressure shattered.
He lunged forward—fists blazing, aimed straight at Quinn—
But Quinn smiled.
A wave of shadow tendrils lashed out.
They struck Shawn's chest and hurled him back like a ragdoll.
He slammed into a pillar.
Cracks spiderwebbed outward.
His vision spun. He couldn't breathe.
"Shawn!" the monk cried, rushing forward—
Only to be blocked by another burst of dark energy.
Ranzi moved fast.
He stepped in front, golden sigils forming midair.
They absorbed the blast.
Quinn exhaled. "You're wasting time protecting him. He'll come with us eventually."
Shawn forced himself up.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
His hands shook, but the core still beat in his chest.
Quinn lifted a finger.
The ground split open.
The O.S.S. warriors surged forward.
Shawn gritted his teeth.
This was it.
He couldn't hold out much longer.
And then—
Everything stopped.
A sharp, piercing whistle sliced through the air.
Fweeeeee—!
The O.S.S. forces froze mid-attack.
A beat of silence.
Then, as if obeying some silent command, they turned and began to retreat.
No shouts. No chaos. Just silent, synchronized withdrawal.
The shadow energy faded—dissolving like mist under sunlight.
Shawn blinked.
His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.
He barely had time to process what just happened.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Boots echoed through the cavern tunnels—measured, heavy, relentless.
A new force had arrived.
From the tunnel ahead, a squad of soldiers emerged.
Dark gray armor. Helmets smooth and sleek.
They moved in perfect formation—like a single organism.
Not a wasted step. Not a word.
Their helmets bore a familiar symbol.
Revolutionary Guards.
And beneath the cave's dim glow, the insignia shimmered cold and metallic.
They didn't rush.
They spread out in silence, forming a protective wall.
Weapons raised—not at Shawn, but toward the retreating shadows.
One thing was certain.
They weren't here to kill him.
They were here to protect him.
At the center of the line stood a woman.
Her helmet clicked as she removed it.
A scar traced the side of her face, half-lit by the soft pulse of her armor's display.
Sharp eyes met Shawn's. Calculating. Unshaken.
"Shawn Carter," she said, voice low and steady. "You're coming with us."
Shawn turned to Ranzi.
The old master gave a slight nod, expression calm.
"They're CP-Hub National Guards," he said. "You're safe now."
CP-Hub.
The ruling center of the most advanced Eastern nation.
A name heavy with power.
But… why now?
Why them?
Shawn's fists tightened.
His legs trembled.
His body screamed to rest—but his mind spun like a turbine.
The O.S.S. hadn't just retreated.
They'd vanished the moment CP-Hub arrived.
Did they fear these soldiers?
Or was this some kind of trade?
The woman stepped closer. Her voice dropped.
"You don't have a choice."
Shawn looked past her—
Quinn stood at a distance, half-shadowed.
Expression unreadable.
Then he smirked.
"This changes nothing."
With that, Quinn turned and faded into the darkness.
The woman gestured toward the tunnel. "Move."
Shawn didn't answer.
He just stood there for a heartbeat longer.
The thunder in his blood was finally quieting.
His fingers twitched, unconsciously brushing the core inside him.
It still pulsed.
Steady.
Unyielding.
Alive.
His steps were slow at first, but he moved.
And as the CP-Hub guards closed ranks around him and began to march,
a new question echoed in his mind—
Not why they came... but what they wanted him to become.