NOVEL WEB Chapter 44: The Panther Order
(A/N - Hey everyone!
First off, I can't thank you enough for reading this far, the support has been incredible and means the world to me.
Just a heads up: we're going to see a bit of a narrative shift until around chapter 50. I'll be diving deeper into the world lore during this time, but don't worry, we'll still check in on our guy Ares and see how he's doing. After these chapters, it's a long walk to greatness, and trust me, you'll want this background for what's coming.
Thanks again for sticking with me. You guys are amazing!
Much love!)
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Miles away from the Cradle, beyond the sixth wall of the empire along the valley close to its border, a vehicle cut through the night like a hunting beast. This wasn't like the old carriages that clattered through Eisenhart's cobblestone streets.
The vehicle had a matte-black surface that seemed to swallow the moonlight whole. No wheels touched the ground, instead, hover plates hissed quietly beneath it, faint mana pulses flickering like the breath of sleeping ghosts. The pod's frame curved in sleek lines, built for speed and silence, with no sharp edges to catch wind or betray its presence to watching eyes.
Inside, the pod felt like the belly of some ancient creature. Dim cyan lines traced the walls like veins, casting an eerie glow over five seats wrapped in dark, smooth material that hugged their occupants. Each seat had straps that could snap tight in a heartbeat and hooks for gear that might mean the difference between life and death. The walls were thick with sound-dampening fiber, letting only the soft hum of the core whisper through like a lullaby of power.
No words passed between the five figures. Only the steady pulse of the engine filled the cabin as they sped through the darkness like a blade through shadow.
This was a Specter Pod, one of the newest mana-tech experiments that only the noble houses of the Zarethian Empire could afford. On the door, the Eisenklinge family crest gleamed.
The pod belonged to Elowen le Eisenklinge, one of the commanders of the family's elite Knight order, the Order of the Panther. She was unusual for many reasons. First, she came from a branch family, not the main bloodline. Second, at just 38 years old, she already held the rank of Grandmaster and commanded one of the six great orders. That kind of rise didn't happen by accident.
She had been on a secret mission for six months now, and she had finally found what she was looking for. The truth. And oh, how she wished she hadn't.
The Order of the Panther specialized in the dark arts of war: stealth, spying, protection, and when necessary, making problems disappear forever. Outside of Eisenhart, family members had been dying in ways that made no sense. That's what sent Elowen and her team into the shadows. Now they had their answers, and those answers tasted like poison.
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"Shit!" One of the five people in the pod suddenly exploded. This was Erik, a Master-ranked and one of Elowen's most trusted men. He bit his lip so hard a drop of blood appeared, sweat beading on his forehead like he'd just run a marathon.
"Calm down, Erik," another voice said, though it shook slightly. This was Ashlin, another Master-ranked who looked just as sick as Erik. "I know this is hard to swallow, but we just have to get back to Eisenhart in one piece."
The whole pod felt heavy with dread. They had just learned the truth behind all the family deaths, and the name made their blood run cold: 'The Ouroboros Accord'.
The Ouroboros Accord, a terrorist group so dangerous that entire kingdoms lost sleep over them. They had people from different families, different ranks, different loyalties all twisted into one deadly snake. The Panther Order had just broken into one of their hideouts and stolen information that could shake the very foundations of the empire.
The group continued their flight in tense silence. Then Elowen's eyes snapped open, and she went rigid like a cat sensing danger.
"Dorian," she called out, her voice cutting through the silence like a whip.
"Yes, Commander!" A mountain of a man with a voice like grinding stone replied. He was the one steering their pod through the night sky, his massive hands steady on the controls.
"We're being followed," Elowen said simply.
The whole group snapped to attention. They knew their commander, she was the careful type, the kind who counted shadows twice. If she said they were being hunted, then death was already breathing down their necks.
Every instinct they had trained for years kicked in as Dorian pushed the pod faster. They shot through the midnight air like a comet, engines screaming with power. And then the world went mad.
"Everyone out of the pod NOW!" Elowen screamed.
Time seemed to slow as five shadows burst from the pod like escaping spirits. What happened next defied explanation.
The Specter Pod began to 'crumple', not from impact, but as if an invisible giant had grabbed it like a tin can and squeezed. Metal groaned and shrieked as it compressed into an impossible ball, and then—
BOOM!
The explosion lit up the night like a second sun, pieces of their ride raining down like deadly confetti.
All five members of the Panther Order stood in the air, floating on their own mana, staring in shock at what should have been their grave. They turned to thank Elowen, but she raised her hand to stop them, her face pale as moonlight.
"They're here," she whispered, her senses reaching out like invisible fingers, counting the mana signatures that had just appeared around them. Being a Grandmaster meant she could feel mana like others felt heat from a fire. But there was a problem that made her stomach drop.
"I can't find the one who caused the explosion," she said, and her team felt their confidence crack like thin ice.
"Commander, what's going on?" Erik asked, his voice cracking like a teenager's. Seeing Elowen's usual calm shattered was like watching a mountain crumble.
Then a voice answered him—a voice that sounded like it was used to being obeyed.
"Oh? You noticed! It seems my cover has already been blown."
A bald middle-aged man descended from the darkness above them like some kind of deadly angel. His beard was trimmed with gold thread that caught the light, and his eyes glowed with gold iris that seemed to see straight through them. He floated with both hands folded behind his back, wearing the expression of someone who had just found an interesting bug to step on.
He carried himself like a king, and clearly, he was the leader of the group of enemies now surrounding them. But there was something else that made Elowen's blood turn to ice water.
"Grandmaster," she stated, the word falling from her lips like a death sentence.
Her four subordinates echoed her words in various stages of panic. Some stuttered so badly they sounded like broken machines.
"G-G-G-Grandmaster?" they stammered. They couldn't believe it. Another Grandmaster stood before them, and with him were ten others, some radiating the deadly aura of High-ranked experts, others clearly Master-ranked killers.
The man in the air threw back his head and laughed, a sound like thunder rolling across a battlefield. He slapped his stomach as he chuckled, clearly enjoying their terror.
"Then I need not ask, I can already see my target," he said, his golden eyes locking onto Elowen like a hawk spotting a mouse.
He gestured casually, and his warriors immediately launched themselves at the four subordinates like wolves released from their chains. The night filled with the clash of steel and the crackling of mana as the battle began.
"While I understand that there is no need for introductions, since you have already ransacked every piece of information at our recent station, my warrior's code won't permit me to enter an intense fight without proper introductions."
He paused as he descended to the ground, landing with the grace of a dancer and the menace of a predator. Then, in a voice that boomed across the battlefield like a war horn, he continued:
"I am called the Eighth Head of the Hydra, Sixth Circle rank and one of the Coil-Bearers of the Ouroboros Accord. You may call me Roch Montclair, though I doubt you'll live long enough to use the name twice."
He smiled then, and it was the kind of smile that made even brave warriors wish they'd stayed home that night.