THUD!

  The sound of heavy wood colliding made the platform floor shake. Noel glanced sideways and almost rolled his eyes. Sergeant James and his men hadn't brought a normal chair; they were dragging a massive mahogany construction whose surface area resembled a solid wooden bed more than a seat.

  Ahhh, fine... Noel thought with resignation. Only something that size could accommodate his father's anatomical structure without shattering into pieces.

  Maronn threw his body down beside Noel. The thick wood creaked violently, as if screaming under the burden of tons of dense muscle. Noel glanced briefly to his right. From this close, the view was even more absurd.

  He looked at his father’s arm. Maronn’s bicep resting on the armrest looked as wide as the diameter of Noel’s entire body. Veins bulged like ancient tree roots ready to explode at any moment.

  Noel raised his hand, signaling with very short, sharp movements.

  Noel pointed at his father’s arm, then raised both hands above his head while expanding and contracting his palms (signaling something swelling or inflating), before ending by raising his eyebrows high.

  [ Did you grow bigger again? ]

  Maronn chuckled instantly. His laugh wasn't a normal human laugh—it was a low growl echoing in the chest cavity, the kind of sound that raised hackles and stimulated survival instincts in the primitive brain of anyone hearing it.

  Noel glanced behind his father. Sergeant James and several guard squad members stood frozen in the distance. Their faces pale, eyes restless, hands trembling holding weapons.

  They looked like a herd of deer cornered near a savage gorilla. They dared not approach, dared not breathe too loudly, as if one wrong move would make Maronn rise and level this entire tower with a single wave of his hand.

  They are afraid of you, Dad, Noel thought, looking back at the Ignis Magna Beacon fire which now seemed small compared to the figure beside him.

  Noel shifted his gaze from his father’s monstrous muscles, turning to stare at the expanse of Mirror Canyon stretching vast beneath them. At this height, Noel had seen so many pairs of eyes staring at the deadly abyss, and each carried a different burden.

  He remembered how he himself often stared there with a blank look—a form of self-defense to avoid drowning in fear.

  Uncle Gerald often stood here with melancholic eyes, full of sorrow as if mourning friends swallowed by darkness. His mother only glanced briefly, a forced form of ignorance. The old ancestors stared with petty eyes, full of calculation and suspicion.

  While other family members stared warily, as if their eyes were chained to the horizon line, unwilling to release their gaze due to full alert. Not wanting to miss something emerging when they blinked.

  However, when Noel glanced at his father’s face now, he felt a different sensation.

  Maronn Sanjaya’s gaze contained no sadness, anxiety, let alone fear.

  Noel saw the light in his father’s eyes—burning embers glowing dimly behind the darkness of night. It was a savage gaze. The gaze of an apex predator.

  Maronn didn't see the canyon as a threat to avoid. He saw it like a gorilla staring at a locked enemy cage, waiting impatiently for the door to open. There was a terrifying hunger there, a pure and uncompromising lust for war.

  As if, to Maronn, the Dark Gate wasn't an approaching disaster... but a banquet invitation where he was the guest of honor.

  Noel felt heat radiating from his father’s body, fighting the cold wind that had been torturing him.

  Noel saw his father extend his gigantic open palm toward him. The movement was slow but full of authority. Maronn’s index finger, as thick as Noel’s wrist, then pointed at the long spear slung across his back.

  Without arguing, Noel unhooked his weapon. He gave the spear with both hands.

  As soon as the spear changed hands, Noel felt his world distort. The spear, which to Noel was a heavy and long weapon, in Maronn’s hand looked like nothing more than a small twig. No, it looked more like a pitiful iron toothpick.

  Maronn twirled the spear with his rough fingers. He began to play with the weapon, making short thrusts into empty air. The movements were so fast they created a sharp whoosh-whoosh sound, splitting the night wind. Noel could only swallow; the spear looked incredibly fragile in a grip capable of crushing concrete.

  Then, suddenly Maronn looked up.

  He opened his mouth wide and roared with laughter.

  "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

  Noel flinched. His reflexes worked instantly; he raised both hands and covered his ears as hard as he could. His heart pounded fast due to the sudden change in air pressure.

  The laughter wasn't just sound; it was a shockwave. The voice roared, boomed, and deafened, far louder than the heavy cannon explosions a few nights ago. The vibration traveled from the platform floor, up Noel’s legs, to his bone marrow.

  Down below, in the Valley of Death, the previously calm atmosphere turned terrifying in an instant.

  Hundreds of soldiers guarding or resting in the valley barracks looked up in unison. They stared toward the tower platform with wide eyes and deathly pale faces. The laughter was so horrifying and primitive that they automatically aimed and cocked their rifles.

  Several sergeants shouted emergency commands. Guards on the outer wall went on full alert, turning their backs on the canyon and instead staring at the tower with trembling bodies. To their eyes, that sound didn't sound human. They thought an ancient monster had emerged from the darkness and was devouring whoever was at the tower peak.

  Noel saw Sergeant James nearby had fallen to a sitting position, face blue, hands covering his ears trembling violently.

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  His father was still laughing, as if challenging all darkness in Mirror Canyon to come out and face him right now.

  Noel lowered his hands slightly after the laughter subsided into a satisfied growl, staring at his father with a bleak look.

  This person is always wild and does whatever he wants.

  Cold wind mixed with the metallic smell of blood invaded instantly.

  Sergeant James approached with a limping gait.

  His appearance was a mess. His gray combat uniform, neat this morning, was now blackened—not by mud, but by thick viscous liquid: Anukh-Ramj blood. His Kevlar helmet was cracked on the left side, and his breath hunted like a broken steam engine.

  He gave no salute. No time for formalities when doomsday knocked at the door.

  "Commander Maronn!" he cried hoarsely.

  In the center of the room stood Maronn. The man stood tall in front of a giant holographic table displaying a real-time map of the gate labyrinth. His back was to James, hands busy moving unit icons on the digital map.

  Maronn turned slowly. His face was clean, contrasting with James. His gaze was cold, as calm as a frozen lake surface.

  "Report, Sergeant," Maronn said flatly. "You left your post in Sector 4."

  James wiped a mixture of sweat and black blood from his eyes.

  "Sector 4... Sector 4 ceased to exist last night, Sir," James reported, voice trembling holding back horror.

  Maronn raised one eyebrow. "Explain."

  James stepped forward, gripping the edge of the parapet. His dirty hands left stains on the blue light of the map.

  "Artillery... artillery wasn't enough, Sir," James swallowed, trying to calm his heartbeat. "Those creatures... Anukh-Ramj. They learn. They no longer run blindly into explosions."

  "What do you mean?"

  "They used... the corpses of their own kind," James’ eyes widened recalling the sight. "The first wave died from explosions. The second wave didn't stop. They picked up body parts of the first wave, raising them overhead as meat shields. Our 5.56 caliber bullets were stopped by that thick flesh!"

  James pointed to the holographic map, right at the defense line of Gate 7 to 12.

  "They piled corpses in the defense trench until level with the ground, then the third wave ran over that bridge of corpses. They jumped over concrete barricades, Sir! We lost Bravo Company in seconds. They were pulled... pulled into that crowd and torn apart."

  Maronn was silent for a moment. He didn't look shocked. He just moved one pawn on the map.

  "Retreat to Second Layer. Activate liquid flame throwers."

  "We already did!" James cut in desperately. "But there is another problem. It's about Gate 134."

  Hearing that number, Maronn’s hand movement stopped.

  He stared sharply at James. "What is the problem with 134?"

  "It's insane, Sir," James shook his head. "I saw it myself from the left flank position. The enemy flow there is three times denser. But..."

  James hesitated for a moment, afraid he saw wrong.

  "...but the Black Ops Team guarding the corridor to Gate 134... they aren't shooting to kill. They are shooting to herd."

  James’ breath quickened.

  "Sir, those creatures are being allowed to enter alive into labyrinth 134 in the thousands! There is no cleaning team inside. I heard them crawling in, but no return fire from inside the labyrinth. It's like feeding a black hole!"

  James stared at his commander with a look demanding answers.

  "What is actually at the end of Gate 134, Sir? Why are we letting that sector be flooded with enemies? If wall 134 breaches, the entire Eastern Sector defense line will collapse and eat us all from the side!"

  Maronn stared at Sergeant James intently.

  No sympathy in the commander’s eyes. Only cold calculation.

  "Sergeant James," Maronn’s voice lowered, dangerous. "Did you see wall 134 breach?"

  "Not yet, Sir. But—"

  "Then return to your post at Second Layer," Maronn cut in coldly. "Your duty is to hold the line, not analyze central command strategy."

  "But Sir, my men need assurance—"

  "The assurance is this," Maronn leaned his face closer. "Whatever enters Gate 134, will never come out again. That is not your concern. Your concern is ensuring those creatures don't jump over your head."

  Maronn straightened his body, looking back at the Valley of Death.

  "Take two boxes of spare ammo from the back warehouse. Then go. If you return here just to ask and not to report victory... I myself will shoot you for desertion."

  James gaped. He saw absolute firmness in Maronn’s eyes. The secret of Gate 134 was protected by walls of authority thicker than this bunker concrete.

  The sergeant clenched his jaw. Disappointment and fear mixed together.

  "Yes... Sir," he growled softly.

  James turned, snatched heavy ammo boxes roughly, and kicked the bunker door open. He ran back out, toward the noisy hell outside, leaving Maronn who returned to busily observing one blinking red dot on the holographic map.

  The dot was right at the deepest end of Labyrinth 134.

  And the label wasn't "Enemy" or "Friendly".

  The label simply read: [FEEDING IN PROGRESS].

  Noel lowered the tip of his spear slightly. His eyes stared bleakly back toward the concrete labyrinth down there.

  He confirmed his suspicion.

  Puzzle pieces scattered in his head now merged to form a complete and terrifying picture.

  What he saw last night—special forces training to herd, not kill—was now validated in real-time on the field.

  The rushing stream of Anukh-Ramj creatures flooding Gate 134 wasn't a defense failure. It was a logistical distribution success.

  "This movement is intentional," Noel thought, jaw hardening.

  Soldiers dying torn apart on the left and right flanks of Gate 134 were mere fences. Their lives wasted just to ensure the black "cattle" didn't run everywhere, but entered straight into the mouth of gate number 134.

  They are feeding Something, Noel concluded. And thousands of monsters are the fodder.

  A chill crawled up his spine. Not because of the wind, but because of the cruelty of his own family's strategy. House Sanjaya didn't fight to save people; they fought to manage the apocalypse on their schedule.

  Noel shifted his gaze from the slaughter below, seeking moral reference around him. His eyes fell on the figure standing two steps to the left of the Old Ancestor.

  His father. Maronn Sanjaya.

  If Uncle Gerald stared at the soldiers with wet eyes full of grief and empathy, Maronn Sanjaya was the antithesis.

  The man stood tall with arms crossed on his chest. His black combat cloak whipped in the wind, but his body was still as an iron statue.

  That face... his Father's face... was empty.

  Noel scanned the micro-expressions on Maronn’s face.

  Zero percent empathy. Zero percent worry.

  Maronn watched his soldiers exploding and human bodies thrown into the air with the look of someone watching dry leaves fall in autumn. Unimportant. Worthless. Just a boring cycle of nature.

  A face that doesn't care, Noel noted internally. To Father, their lives are cheaper than the bullets they fire.

  However, when a larger wave of Anukh-Ramj—creatures the size of trucks beginning to climb the canyon walls—appeared, Maronn’s expression changed.

  The boredom vanished.

  Noel saw drastic physiological changes in his father.

  Fine veins in Maronn’s neck began to bulge. His breathing became heavy and deep, like a supercar engine warming up at the starting line.

  And his eyes.

  Noel saw his father’s eye color change.

  Irises previously pitch black, now slowly faded, replaced by a glow of copper red burning dimly. His pupils constricted, then vibrated wildly, focus locked on the big monsters down there.

  Maronn’s lips slowly lifted.

  Not a smile.

  It was a grin.

  A wide grin baring rows of white teeth that looked too sharp for a civilized human. The grin of an apex predator caged too long in bureaucracy, and now smelling fresh blood spilling over.

  His father wasn't afraid. His father was aroused by the violence before his eyes.

  "Finally..." Noel heard a raspy whisper escape through his father’s gritted teeth. "Spilling over... Good. Come up quickly."

  Maronn’s crossed arms now dropped to his sides. His fingers twitched restlessly, as if choking an imaginary ghost's neck. He held no weapon, but his entire body was a weapon in "safety off" condition.

  Noel took a step back unconsciously.

  The aura radiating from his father’s body was an aura of pure bloodlust.

  His father didn't care about the "feeding" strategy at Gate 134. His father also didn't care about the kingdom's fate.

  The only thing Maronn Sanjaya cared about was when he could jump down there, and tear something apart with his own bare hands.

  Monster, Noel thought bitterly, staring at his father’s back. There are monsters crawling up from the abyss, and there is a monster standing waiting on the cliff.