Swiftly, Erion shot to his feet. The man's eyes flicked toward him, but before he could even react, Erion's foot struck out, sending the syringe flying from his hand. The man's gaze followed the syringe in mid-air, a split second of distraction. Erion wasted no time—he grabbed the man's arm, twisting it with precision. In a heartbeat, Erion's back was against the man's chest, his movements fluid and forceful. With a violent pull, he slammed the man to the ground, the impact shaking the floor beneath them.
Without missing a beat, Erion pulled a sleek silver gun from his jacket. The soft click of the silencer sliding into place was the only sound in the tense silence that followed.
"Don't look!" Erion shouted, his voice sharp, not even glancing at Evah.
Listen to me this time, he thought, as the low, muffled sound of the silenced gun echoed through the air.
Everything unfolded so quickly that Evah barely had time to react. The moment Erion's shout pierced the tension, her eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the chaos around her.
Did he shoot him?
Are we saved?
Evah's heart hammered in her chest, her breaths shallow and erratic. The questions swirled in her mind, but the pounding in her ears drowned them out. She couldn't shake the rush of adrenaline that still gripped her.
Swift and clean, Erion moved with precision, ensuring the opponent wouldn't have a chance to react. His gaze remained fixed on the man he had just taken down.
The figure lay motionless on the ground, lifeless, the silence settling in like a heavy weight.
She felt the urge to open her eyes, driven by a burning curiosity about what had just happened.
Did he have a gun this whole time? The question lingered in her mind.
"Don't! Keep them shut. You don't want to see." His voice was softer this time, more reassuring.
He moved toward her, the sound of his footsteps drawing closer as he released her from the pole.
Evah kept her eyes shut, the urge to peek still burning inside her. Just trust him.
She wanted to know what happened, but something about Erion's voice made her believe she should stay in the dark, for now.
Still sitting on the ground, her hands were finally free—but the weight of the moment lingered in the air.
Someone's coming.
This will be over soon. Erion's hand slid into the corpse's pocket, retrieving the gun with practiced ease.
Beretta 92. Nice.
"Cover your ears," he ordered, his voice firm and commanding.
The sound of footsteps grew louder as people began to enter through the door and the window.
Why does it feel like whatever you say is absolute? Evah pressed her hands against her ears, trying to block out the noise, but the gunshots ripped through the air, relentless and deafening, each one pounding in her skull.
Shots rang out, one after another, as he fired with both hands, steady and precise.
1...
The silver gun in his right hand bucked in his grip. Headshot.
2...
The black gun in his left fired next, each shot ringing out as he moved, walking steadily, never missing a beat.
3... 4... 5...
Then, as quickly as it had started, the gunfire stopped. An eerie silence followed, heavy and suffocating.
What's happening?
Is he dead?
"Erion?!!" Evah shouted, her voice filled with panic as worry surged through her.
"I'm here. Reinforcements should be here soon. Just don't open your eyes." Erion's voice was steady as he approached the door, locking it behind him. He positioned himself against it, ensuring he could hear any movement outside.
His eyes continued scanning the dimly lit warehouse, every corner a potential threat. He knew that the team was already executing the operation outside—this was just a matter of time. It will be done soon. It was my plan, after all.
The silence stretched on, heavy and suffocating, until a faint knock echoed from the back of the warehouse, near where Evah sat.
It was a concealed exit, blocked and easily overlooked—except Erion knew every possible escape route.
The knocks followed a precise pattern, one only they would recognize.
Erion's sharp eyes confirmed it—It's the team.
With a burst of motion, he sprinted to the opposite door, clearing the old furniture blocking the exit with ease. He threw it open, his voice cold and commanding.
"Get in."
"What's that?" Evah asked, her voice tinged with unease as she heard the knocks and the rustle of movement around her. The air was thick with tension, and she could sense that there were more people now. Not just Erion. Without her sight, everything felt amplified, and the uncertainty only deepened her anxiety.
"Don't open your eyes," Erion said again, his tone steady and reassuring. The less you know, the better.
A group of people in uniforms began to enter the room—ten members of the Grand Covenant Order Iron Clan force. At the forefront was the leader, a tall man with a well-built frame, his teal-green uniform adorned with multiple badges, signaling his high rank within the Order.
"Major General." The leader saluted and continued his report, voice precise. "The operation is complete. No casualties on our side, but... unfortunately, there were no survivors."
"We will recover the bodies for identification," the commander added, his voice cold.
"Proceed. Clean up before anyone outside notices." Erion's tone didn't betray any disappointment, though the weight of his words was clear.
"Yes, Major."
"And get these two to the headquarters hospital. Don't let them out—they might know too much." Erion glanced at Evah, then at Yuka, still unconscious.
"What the hell? Erion, I heard that!" Evah shouted, the frustration in her voice cutting through the tension, though her eyes remained shut.
"You should," he hissed, his gaze hardening. "Go with them. They'll treat your wounds." He signaled to the leader, who nodded and ordered two men to untie Yuka from the pole.
"How do I know you won't kill me?" Evah asked, her voice edged with suspicion.
With a light, almost teasing tone, Erion answered, "You won't." She imagined him grinning, though she couldn't see it.
Traitor! What if they kill me?
Fear gripped her, and the possibilities started to spiral. What if they're the bad guys? She'd heard the stories, the rumors of the Order's bloody methods. They had once been the people's heroes—the organization that overthrew the corrupt government and rebuilt the justice system. The people had begged for them to become the official law enforcement, more powerful than the police but beyond any government's reach. Given absolute power for their anti-corruption actions decades ago, they had become the very thing they once fought against.
A world where law enforcement had no limits—a perfect recipe for a new, corrupted organization.
But not all of them are the same... or at least, she hoped.
One of the men gently helped her to her feet, guiding her with her eyes still shut.
"Can I just go home?" Her voice cracked, a plea escaping her lips as she turned to Erion, her desperation clear.
"You can't. Just keep those eyes shut until you're in the hospital and be a good girl, okay?" There was a sharp edge to his voice, though it was softened by a strange sense of finality. You're a dangerous weapon, waiting to be discovered. Erion thought, though he didn't say it aloud. He knew that.
He needed answers. What were their true involvement in all of this? Were they just random victims caught in the crossfire, or was there something more beneath the surface? He had to find out.
You, jester! Evah clenched her fists, her mind racing. I can't believe I was actually concerned about you a moment ago. The anger surged inside her, but she held it back. She couldn't afford to resist now. Yuka was still unconscious, and if she made a scene, things would only get worse.
One of the men gently grabbed her arm, his touch firm but careful. She could feel the cold, smooth texture of his gloves.
"Please, follow my lead, Miss," a voice murmured from her left ear.
Evah's heart pounded, but she had no choice. She nodded, silently agreeing to do what was asked. It was her only option.
Erion stepped out of the building, his boots crunching on the grass. The bodies of the dead were sprawled across the ground, their lifeless eyes staring at the sky.
"Check all the rooms in the warehouse," Erion ordered, his voice unwavering. "There were corpses... and a laboratory."
He walked with the leader of the Iron Clan by his side, his gaze focused on the horizon.
"Yes, Major," the commander replied, his tone professional.
Erion's eyes narrowed. "Where's the lead man? The one in the suit—and the woman in charge?"
"Major, he shot himself." The commander's voice was flat. Erion's face remained impassive as the burning warehouse loomed behind him, smoke curling up into the sky.
"We caught him," the commander continued. "Instead of surrendering, he started chanting... like a madman. His last words were 'Hail the All-Mother' before he put a bullet in his head."
Erion didn't flinch. This wasn't the first time he'd dealt with unpredictable, dangerous people.
"We found no women among them—only men," the commander went on, his words measured. "But every victim we found inside was female."
Erion's jaw tightened. If this had been handled sooner, those lives could've been saved... His thoughts darkened, but he pushed them away. There was no time to dwell on regret.
The faces of the victims flashed in his mind, but he steeled himself. He had a mission. He couldn't let it slip now.
The Rise of the Grand Covenant Order
Once celebrated as the people's heroes, the organization began as a beacon of hope—a force that overthrew a corrupt government and rebuilt the shattered justice system. In the early days, the world's seven nations had been united by a common affliction. The rot of corruption did not strike suddenly; it spread like a sickness, gradually poisoning every corner of society until even the mightiest nations were left in ruins. The people had no one to turn to. The police, once protectors, were now a part of the system's decay, and the government itself was the root of all suffering.
Poverty, hunger, and homelessness ravaged the land. The everyday struggles of the common folk went unnoticed by the world, even though their impacts were felt in every community. Media outlets, once trusted to shed light on injustice, had either fallen silent or were complicit in the lie that all was well. A powerful few continued to parade their success, blind to the suffering around them, proclaiming that the world was in its golden age, that prosperity and perfection were the reality.
But the truth was different. Decades of arrogance and ignorance from those in power pushed the people to their limits. A group of brilliant minds, unwilling to stand idly by, began to hatch a daring plan. It was not a simple revolution; it was a war—a war fought not only with weapons but with strategy, intelligence, and sheer determination. They knew it would be bloody, but they also knew that it was the only path to reclaiming the freedom that had been stolen from them.
The government's leaders were often part of long-standing political dynasties, but many of them were born from privilege, not merit. High-ranking positions were often filled by the sons and daughters of the powerful—individuals who, though given the power, were often incapable and unqualified. The real talents, the true thinkers, were pushed to the fringes of society, unable to find work or rise through the ranks. This system of incompetence and nepotism made it easier for the movement to strike at the heart of the establishment.
In the end, the Grand Covenant Order—this group of brilliant individuals—executed the greatest coup in history, toppling the government and restoring balance to the world. A new era began, and with it, a fresh system of democracy where the people's voices could once again be heard.
Yet, despite their success, the Order knew their work was far from over. They had become a symbol of hope, and the people begged them not to retire. Instead, they pleaded for the Order to become the official enforcers of the law, a force more powerful than the police but beyond the control of any government. The task was clear: to prevent corruption from ever taking root again and to ensure that the sacrifice of so many would not be forgotten.
Grateful yet cautious, the Order accepted their new responsibility, knowing that with absolute power came great danger. They were given the authority to enforce justice by any means necessary, even if that meant bending or breaking the law. The people trusted them to uphold the balance and protect the world from the same darkness that had once consumed it.