Chap 170: Priman HQ

Tee caught the hem of her skirt and, after a breath’s hesitation, lifted it just enough to expose her intent, her posture arching despite herself.

Kie caught the movement and stepped back. His palms slick with sweat, breath ragged. He dragged a hand down his face, his mind warring with his body.

The line between should and can't was barely a thread.

But just as he made up his mind—footsteps.

Voices.

Someone was coming.

He grabbed her arm gently but firmly and pulled her back from the sink. Skirt down. Composure up. The heat still simmered under his skin like lava—but they had to move. Had to pretend.

Even if every part of him screamed to go back.

Tee tapped something on her tablet and then looked up with that familiar stubborn gleam.

“We’re going by the beach,” she declared. “And don’t forget—you still need to convince me to get that Seal.”

Kie followed, jaw tight, his silence saying more than any protest.

By the time they reached the old swing facing the surf, the horizon was already bleeding orange and violet. Tee slowed, then made a quiet attempt—reaching out for his hand.

Kie recoiled as if burned. His voice was sharp, unyielding.

“What are you doing?”

Her hand froze midair. “I—I just…” The words crumbled.

He dragged a palm down his face, scowling. “You are a Xeno-victim. There is nothing, and never will be anything, between us. I just want you to get that damn Seal. Got it?”

The words hit harder than she expected. She told herself she should’ve known better—of course she was Xenoid in his eyes. He was an MG off wannabe. And yet, she had let him touch her before, without thought. Who even was she anymore?

He sat heavily in the sand, staring at the dying sun. Tee lowered herself into the swing, the ropes creaking, her body still and tense. Her mind spun, every thread circling back to him.

She didn’t want to swing. Didn’t want to return to the outside world, not yet. If she had to die, then at least she wanted these stolen moments—moments only he could give.

Her thoughts drifted to their relationship that was no more. Desperate for a task, she slipped from the swing and unearthed a coil of rope she had buried under the sand.

Kie eyed her warily. “What are you doing now?”

“I’m building a hammock. Care to help? It’s on my list.”

He groaned. “That damned list of yours.” Yet something tugged at him, an unseen current. With a resigned grunt, he rose and joined her.

Together, they scavenged long branches from the nearby trees, fixing them into sturdy crossbeams. Their hands brushed as they looped rope around the wood, the small sparks of contact making Tee’s breath hitch. 

For a fleeting moment, it felt like before—like washing dishes side by side, when everything between them had been simple. She had to smother the laugh threatening to rise. If she weren’t genuinely clueless about how to clean dishes, it might almost seem like it had been her plan all along.

Then, instinctively, she flexed her claws to slice the rope.

Kie froze. His stomach turned cold. 

A claw. 

When the hammock was finished, they stood on opposite sides, staring at the work between them.

“Well, go on,” Kie said at last, a crooked smirk curling his lips.

“You first,” Tee countered. “That’s on my list.”

Every time she brought up that list, some gnawing suspicion pressed harder against his chest. But he shoved it down. No—he was only doing that for the Balance Seal. That was all.

He gave in, dropping onto the hammock. The ropes groaned. Tee climbed in right after, and the hammock swayed violently before settling, their arms and shoulders pressed flush together.

“This is so wrong,” Kie muttered under his breath.

But neither of them moved. The hammock rocked gently, the ocean breeze combing through their hair.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Tee asked softly. “Being so close?”

His answer was firm. “No.”

Her question lingered, though, pulling at thoughts he didn’t want to face. His mind drifted to death—to the friends at the Mid-Guard who had probably forgotten him by now, to Sirsy, his ex, who was just another ghost in his past. A sigh left him, heavy with loss.

“We’re kind of alike,” he admitted quietly. “If we die, there’s no one who would care.”

The words hit Tee like a blade of ice. She turned to him, searching his face. His eyes, sorrowful and distant, were fixed on the treetops swaying above.

The wind rose, howling louder than her thoughts, and for once she let silence speak. She lay there beside him, listening, letting the rhythm of the waves and the creak of rope carry them both into a fragile, stolen stillness.

In the dim early morning of the next day, when Tee should have been prepping for training warm-up, she and her teammates instead found themselves in the mission base.

The elders had given the coordinates without explanation, their expressions as unreadable as ever. But the Lieutenant and the Commander knew exactly where those coordinates led, and it showed—the Commander’s face tight with unease, the Lieutenant’s wide, unblinking eyes fixed on the team—as the teleportation tiles burned brighter beneath their feet.

They had done countless missions, even suicidal ones against the Harbingers, but that was the first time their guides looked genuinely afraid.

The Commander tried to play it off. He always did. His arms were folded behind his back, posture stiff as the white glow illuminated his robe.

“Please,” he said, his tone carrying more weight than the words themselves, “try not to trash the place.”

Miko raised a brow, unsure if it was sarcasm or some deeper warning.

Kie welcomed the distraction, no matter how cryptic. At least there, in battle, he didn’t have to keep circling back to Tee—didn’t have to wrestle with the silence between them, or the pressure of convincing her to claim the Balance Seal she kept dodging. 

Combat was simpler. A target to cut, an enemy to face. Something solid he could slice through with his blade, instead of the endless frustration, and unanswered questions.

The light swallowed them, and in an instant, the Sentinels were gone.

They reappeared inside… a hallway.

Not ruins. Not wastelands. Not a battlefield cratered by past wars.

A hallway.

The air was sharp with the sterile chill of air-conditioning, so unlike the humid, open environments they were used to. The walls gleamed—white, seamless, clinical—stretching in either direction like the ribs of some endless machine. A faint beep pulsed from somewhere hidden, accompanied by the low hum of machinery. Or maybe… voices? Countless whispers, so faint they might have been imagined.

The Sentinels froze, glancing at one another as though they had been dropped into the wrong play.

Kie broke the silence. “Did the Lieutenant teleport us to the right coordinates?”

Saeda rolled her eyes, arms folded. “The Commander said this was a Harbinger mission, didn’t he? Then yes. This is the place.” Her tone made it clear she couldn’t care less whether it was the right or wrong coordinates—she just wanted to get it over with.

But before anyone could respond, the first defense system activated.

A line of red cut across the corridor, followed by another, and another—lasers flashing into existence and forming a cage of light. The beams snapped toward them, quick and precise.

The Sentinels reacted on instinct.

Zod reacted first. He thrust out his hand, conjuring glowing orbs that floated like tethered stars. Each one pulsed, then exploded with concussive force, shredding the turrets in bursts of fire and sparks.

Miko vanished in a blink, reappearing beside a turret before its barrel could swivel. A precise jab of Ether energy ruptured its core, sparks spitting out as the machine died. In the same heartbeat, she flickered again—this time above another turret—and brought her sword down in a clean vertical slash, splitting it in two. She reappeared at the group’s side with a casual shrug, as if he’d only taken a short stroll.

More lasers popped out of the walls, crisscrossing the corridor in tight, jagged patterns. 

Tee sighed, more annoyed than threatened. Her dark mana leaked out like ink in water, condensing into jagged black spikes that skewered two turrets at once. 

Kie formed his Ultramana sword in a single smooth motion, the blade roaring to life. He slashed, and a whip of energy carved a diagonal arc across the hall, severing three turrets in one clean stroke. Sparks rained down as he lowered his weapon, expression unflinching.

Saeda raised her hand reluctantly, Ultramana light shimmering around her fingers. A ring of translucent shards formed at her side, then shot outward in a synchronized strike, piercing through the remaining emitters with surgical precision. The shards dissolved into glittering dust before they hit the floor.

The fight was over in seconds, yet none of them wore the look of victory. Their eyes swept the corridor, taking in the blackened scorch marks, smoking debris, and sparks still fizzing from damaged circuits—it looked as though a small-scale war had erupted here.

“The Commander said not to destroy the place…” Saeda murmured, her Ultramana aura pulsing faintly from her hands as she surveyed the damage. As mission leader, she felt responsible for every reckless strike, every uncontrolled surge of power. 

Zod rubbed a hand over his face, a sheepish grin tugging at his lips. “Well… it’s a bit of a mess, I guess. But hey, no one got hurt.”

Tee didn’t respond, arms crossed, shadows curling faintly around her as though shrugging off the chaos. Kie simply lowered his blade, shoulders tense, scanning for the next threat. Even with their powers unleashed, a weight of unease settled over them.

Zod gave a half-smile, though even he sounded uncertain. “What if this is just another one of the Commander’s surprise training exercises?”

No one got the chance to answer.

The alarm went off.

It wasn’t a sound meant to warn. It was a sound meant to break.

The shrill, metallic ringing slammed into their skulls, making them double over as if their brains were trying to claw out through their ears. It wasn’t just noise—it was sorcery fused with technology, every pulse a hammer blow against their nerves.

Kie gritted his teeth, his sword sparking wildly as his grip faltered. Zod clutched his ears, swearing under his breath. Tee’s vision swam, white hair sticking to her temples with sweat.

Saeda clicked her tongue in irritation. With a swift, precise gesture, she unleashed her Ultramana, shaping it into a dome of shimmering blue energy that encompassed all five of them. The oppressive din of the alarm slammed against the barrier—and then, suddenly, it was muffled, reduced to a low, pulsing throb. Inside the dome, the air seemed to calm, every harsh vibration and piercing tone softened, as if the sound itself had been bent to her will.

Saeda smirked as if it was the most obvious solution in the world. “Knew this mission was going to go wrong. Why? Because I’m leading.”

Even through the softened hum, Saeda’s indifference cut through the group.

Miko, still pale from the psychic toll of the alarm, rubbed her temples and asked, “So… what now? Do we just run around blind until we stumble across the fragment, like last time?”

“My aura-sense isn’t working,” Saeda replied without concern, tapping her temple. “If Tee had stayed behind, I’d be able to pinpoint the fragment exactly.”

“Excuse me?” Tee snapped, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry I’m affecting whatever you’re claiming I’m affecting.”

Zod muttered under his breath, “Why haven’t you gotten the Balance Seal yet?”

That was the spark.

“Hey!” Kie barked, voice cutting through the tension like his blade. His sword flared, a whip-crack of energy slicing past them and into the nearest steel door. Metal shrieked and tore, leaving a gaping wound in the wall.

He stood at the front, blade raised, his glare silencing them more effectively than the shield. “We move. Now.”

They pressed forward into the base.

That was when the soldiers appeared.

They weren’t just soldiers—they were Priman.

Armored in sleek white and grey exosuits, visors glowing with tactical HUDs, blasters and gadgets bristling from their belts. They marched with precision, weapons already raised.

The Sentinels froze, realization crashing down like ice water.

“Priman HQ,” Zod whispered. “Geovalon’s main law enforcement. We’re in their base. In the sky.”

The hesitation almost cost them.

The first volley of plasma fire roared toward them.

Kie moved first. His blade blurred, each swing leaving arcs of light that split incoming shots into harmless sparks. He advanced, every strike deliberate, but he angled each blow to disable, not kill—slashing weapons apart, denting armor, knocking soldiers sprawling without drawing blood.

Miko danced between them in flickers of light, teleporting behind one, disarming him with a sharp twist, then reappearing above another to slam him down with a burst of Ether force.

Tee wasn’t as merciful. Shadows speared out from beneath her feet, slamming soldiers into walls and pinning them there, struggling against bindings that bit deeper the more they fought. She didn’t finish them because they weren’t Leaks.

Zod’s eyes flared with focus as he summoned constructs of pure energy. Spiked gauntlets formed over his fists, and a massive, glowing shield materialized before him, sending incoming gunfire ricocheting harmlessly aside. 

He surged forward, plowing through the lines of soldiers with precise, concussive blasts from his fists, each strike sending sparks and smoke spiraling into the air. Every movement was sharp, controlled, and devastating—an unstoppable force of raw energy.

Saeda hung back for a heartbeat, conflicted. Those weren’t Harbingers. They weren’t monsters. They were just men doing their jobs. But when one leveled a glowing pike at her chest, instinct took over.

Her Ultramana flared. A shimmering construct of glass-like blades erupted around her, spinning outward. They struck with surgical precision, severing weapons and dropping soldiers to their knees.

The hallway was silent again in moments—broken only by the groans of the fallen.

None of them cheered.

“…Why?” Tee whispered. “Why would the Commander send us here?”

Before anyone could answer, the ceiling shifted.

Metal slabs slammed down, sealing them in. The lights dimmed.

And then the hologram appeared.

An old man, tall, cold, immaculate in his black suit. His eyes cut sharper than any blade, and even through the hologram his presence filled the space.

Zod stiffened, fists clenching. “Matt Daman. The Head of Priman.”