"Sir, we're closing in on the battlefield," an agent reported, voice steady over the comms. "We've also confirmed that the first reinforcement team was intercepted by the Han brothers' accomplices."
Sang-hoon Lee, the former Head of the Awakener Union and one of South Korea's respected awakened, gave a sharp nod. His eyes, cool and calculating, didn't waver from the view ahead—the pulsing lights of a battle tearing through the cityscape in the distance.
"Have we secured the surrounding area?" he asked, his voice a blend of command and calm urgency.
"Yes, sir," another agent responded. "An intervention team has been deployed to lock down the vicinity. Non-awakened civilians have been evacuated, their memories suppressed as per the veil accords. News agencies are fed a fabricated report about an electrical transformer explosion and an underground gas leak."
Sang-hoon exhaled through his nose. "Good. We can't afford exposure. The veil between our world and theirs is thin enough as it is."
The agent beside him added, "We've also received word—Shinwa, Baekho, and Mir Associations that are the closest to our territory have dispatched backup. ETA unknown."
"Understood." Sang-hoon's tone remained composed, but there was a noticeable shift in his energy. Reinforcements were coming, but it was uncertain if they'd arrive in time.
If Hyuk was taken out, then the situation's worse than I thought. Those boys… Rheon, Yejun, Seongha—and Aera. Too young to be caught in a fight like this. Too valuable. And Rheon…
A flicker of pride warred with anxiety in his chest.
He's his father's son, that much is clear. But he's still only fifteen. My grandson. And if anything happens to him—
Then, a voice came from the driver's seat. "Sir, we're two blocks away."
Sang-hoon's decision was immediate. "We go in on foot. Now."
The car skidded to a stop, and the doors flung open. Sang-hoon stepped out first, flanked by Union agents in full tactical gear. Their footfalls were sharp against the pavement as they sprinted toward the second battleground—where their own agents had been ambushed by the Han brothers' elite.
And then, they reached it.
The clash unfolded in chaotic bursts of elemental fury—pillars of fire, jagged eruptions of earth, shockwaves from enhanced strikes. Union agents held their line with practiced coordination, but it was clear the battle was deadlocked.
At the center of the chaos, a group of awakened mercenaries led the charge—pyrokinetics launching searing volleys, geokinetics tearing the ground as weapons, and physically enhanced brutes breaking through defenses with sheer power.
Sang-hoon didn't hesitate. Raising his arm, a brilliant blue sigil flared to life across his palm. He brought his hands together and muttered under his breath. The air around the battlefield shimmered, cracked, and then—snapped.
A glass-like fissure split across reality. The space around them distorted—like a ripple across the surface of water—and then stabilized into silence.
The leader of the enemy group blinked. "Spatial... isolation?" he muttered in disbelief. His eyes widened in horror as he turned to see who casted it.
There stood Sang-hoon Lee, eyes glowing with a faint azure light, his hands still clasped in the remnants of the casting motion.
"Who the hell is that?" one of the enemy awakened asked, voice trembling.
"That's... that's Sang-hoon Lee..." their leader stammered.
Inside the sealed dimension of the Spatial Isolation, no one could escape, and no one could interfere. It was a battlefield detached from the real world—an execution chamber of the caster's design.
"This ends now," Sang-hoon said calmly.
Then he struck.
In a flash of movement, he conjured a volley of ice spears, each perfectly aimed. They struck like lightning—three enemies down in the first barrage, instantly encased in solid, crystalline blue ice. Their bodies locked in place, breathing shallow through slivers of visible frost.
The mercenaries broke formation, trying to retaliate, but it was too late. Sang-hoon advanced with graceful lethality, weaving between blasts of fire and earth like wind between the trees. Every motion was deliberate. Every strike, lethal. A farcry from his canon counterpart, where his age had already caught up to him and his dantian damaged.
Union agents rallied behind him, pressing the assault. With Sang-hoon at the helm, morale surged and coordination snapped into sharp focus. The tide of the battle turned within seconds.
Still, their enemies resisted, desperate.
Another subordinate looked panicked. "We weren't told he'd be here—what do we do now?!
"The Han brothers are close to capturing the brat!" the enemy leader screamed. "Once they're done, they'll be here! Just hold them off!"
But desperation didn't win battles.
Sang-hoon raised his hand again. A massive wave of crystalline blue ice surged forward like a frozen tsunami, swallowing half the enemy force in a single sweep that took nearly a half of his awakened energy.
Pyrokinetic blasts fizzled against its sheer density. Geokinetic barricades shattered like brittle stone.
A final cry of resistance came from a physically-enhanced fighter who charged Sang-hoon directly. The man roared, his body glowing with brute strength, his punch shattering concrete as he rushed forward.
Sang-hoon simply stepped aside.
With a flick of his wrist, a spear of jagged ice burst from the ground, piercing through the attacker's shoulder and locking him in place.
Breathing calmly, Sang-hoon glanced around. Most of the enemy force was either unconscious, frozen, or on their knees.
"Clear the remaining enemies," he ordered his agents. "Then we move to the Han brothers."
The agents saluted and fanned out with renewed vigor.
Sang-hoon looked toward the distant flare of awakened power still flickering where Rheon was. Worry flickered in his chest—but he crushed it. There was no room for doubt now.
He whispered to himself, "Hold on, Rheon."