The World That Broke

XVI

Finishing off the remaining unconscious hunters was a methodical process. Slice their throats, puncture the base of their skulls—clean, precise, and thorough. It was almost disturbingly easy. Each movement felt calculated, practiced, as though my body knew exactly what to do before my mind could even process it. Grue worked in silence on his side, his efficiency matching my own.

So this was the power of preparation. Knowing your enemies' weaknesses, their patterns, their limitations—it made all the difference.

I spared the innocents, of course. Those without the serial numbers beneath their lips were let go, though they'd likely need therapy for the rest of their lives after tonight. Still, the scene was bloody. Over a dozen wealthy elites marked with the Cult's numbers lay dead. Thirty priests, a handful of hunters, and then him—the Prophet's right-hand man.

He was pretending to be unconscious.

I was saving him for last.

The idea of torture unsettled me, but it wasn't something I could shy away from. Information had to be extracted, and some truths only came under duress. Still, I couldn't help but wonder why he was playing dead. Was he buying time? Waiting for reinforcements? Trying to lower my guard?

"Rory," I said into the comms, breaking the silence. "Do you know any truth serum providers?"

"What are you doing? I suggest you skedaddle now," Rory replied, her tone sharp with urgency.

I sighed, glancing around at the carnage. Killing them while they were immobile had been quick, but searching them took time. I couldn't help myself—I got greedy. The ledger should have been enough, but I had also found a suspicious phone with military-grade augmentations, a notepad with connections to powerful people, and a ring with a hidden compartment. It was a haul, and I'd improvised a bag from someone's suit to carry it all.

"Grue," I called out, my attention shifting back to the right-hand man. "Change of plans. I want this guy alive—"

Before I could finish, I felt it.

A surge of aura slammed into my senses like a tidal wave. My head snapped toward the source: the right-hand man. His body, which had been motionless just moments ago, now radiated raw energy. His aura flared wildly, chaotic and unstable.

He wasn't trying to escape. He was trying to destroy everything.

I felt the explosive attribute within him—volatile, building with terrifying speed. This wasn't just a fight or flight response. It was a deliberate, suicidal effort to blow the entire place sky-high.

Instinct took over.

I leapt.

My hand clamped into his wrist.

I activated my Soul Link, locking onto his aura. As our energies connected, I felt the immense pressure building inside him. It was like standing in the eye of a storm, the power swirling dangerously close to the breaking point.

I equalized our auras, siphoning off just enough to stabilize him temporarily. But I didn't stop there. Returning his aura at the critical moment, I turned it inward, using his own energy against him.

I let go of his wrist

The effect was immediate.

His body began to collapse, imploding under the weight of his own power. The energy had nowhere to go, and the detonation he'd been building reversed itself, folding in on him like a black hole. His eyes widened in shock, a brief moment of realization flashing across his face before everything went silent.

It was over.

"What the hell just happened?" Grue's voice broke through the stillness, his usually calm tone shaky.

I ignored him, wiping the blood from my knife and standing over what was left of the right-hand man. There was no reason to explain, no reason to advertise the finer details of my abilities. Information was power, and even within my team, there were things I preferred to keep to myself.

"Let's go," I said, my voice steady as I adjusted the makeshift bag on my shoulder.

Grue hesitated but didn't argue. He fell into step behind me, his presence a quiet shadow as we made our way toward the exit.

The night wasn't over, but this part of the mission was. Now, it was only a matter of time before the Prophet himself made his move. And when he did, he would want me.

As we stepped out into the night, Henry was already waiting for us, idling in a beat-up white van that didn't scream "escape vehicle" but blended perfectly into the surroundings. I could see Carlyle and Rory through the windshield, sitting in the back. They looked calm, as if they hadn't just been part of a massacre.

I opened the van's door and climbed in, followed by Grue, who muttered something about being cramped.

"So," I asked casually, settling into my seat, "where do you guys want to eat? My treat."

The mood was mixed, but my attempt at humor barely landed.

Carlyle glanced at me with a small smirk but shook his head. "I've got other business to take care of."

Grue grumbled, crossing his arms. "Not like I did much tonight anyway. I was hoping for some action."

Henry, sitting behind the wheel, gave a tired sigh. "It's my wife's death anniversary. I need to visit her grave."

Rory shrugged, glancing between the others. "I'd come if everyone else was in, but…" She trailed off, realizing that wasn't happening.

The silence in the van lingered as the weight of the night settled over us. No one had said it out loud, but we all knew the kind of things we'd done back there weren't easy to shake off.

Eventually, we split up.

When I got back to my current safe house, I wasted no time. The first call I made was to a hunter-run funeral home. They specialized in handling "delicate" matters, like burying bodies that no one wanted questions asked about. It wasn't cheap, but the cleanup had to be thorough.

Once the arrangements were made, I started packing. This place had served its purpose, but it was time to move on.

The next destination? The Capital City.

The mundane world operated under a single, unified government known as the Government. It wasn't perfect—no government was—but it kept things functional. As part of the Government's checks and balances, the Hunter's Association held significant power. Their main headquarters was located in the Capital City, making it the perfect place for my next step.

The Hunters' Examination was coming up.

As an unofficial hunter, my access to certain privileges and resources was limited. A hunter's license was more than just a piece of paper; it was a key. With it, I could explore places like the Forbidden Region, gain trust, and secure my operations.

The truth was, I needed to build credibility. My current methods relied too heavily on favors and connections, which could only get me so far. If I wanted to play a bigger game, I needed official status.

And then there were the resources. A license would mean a secure bank account, better equipment, and access to networks that were currently out of reach. Leora's old contacts, for example—people I might need to rely on sooner rather than later. I wondered how she was holding up on her side. Hopefully, better than I'd left her.

The trip to the Capital City was grueling.

Driving through back roads to avoid attention, dealing with delays, and finally taking a long-haul flight—it all added up. By the time I arrived, a full week had passed, and I was running on fumes.

The first thing I did was find a high-class motel. The kind that didn't ask too many questions as long as you paid up front. I dropped my bags on the floor, kicked off my shoes, and collapsed onto the bed.

Sleep hit me like a brick.

For the first time in weeks, I didn't dream.

I woke up in the middle of the night, groggy and disoriented, as my phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. For a second, I thought it was a dream, but the persistent ringing pulled me out of the haze. My heart thudded in my chest, a sense of foreboding creeping in as I reached for the device.

The screen glowed with an unlisted number. I already had a hunch who it might be.

"How did you get this number?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite the tension coiling in my chest.

"I paid for it, of course," came the sharp, unmistakable voice of my wife, Leora. "Do you think you're the only information broker out there?"

She sounded furious—absolutely livid.

"Don't you dare hang up on me, Reynard!"

I hung up without hesitation, her voice cutting off mid-sentence. Tossing the phone onto the nightstand, I flopped back onto the bed and turned the phone off completely. Whatever she wanted, it could wait. I wasn't in the mood for her theatrics.

And yes, I was being a jerk…

The room fell into a peaceful silence, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner.

I closed my eyes, guilt and frustration mingling in the back of my mind. But exhaustion won out, and I drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

The next time I woke up, it wasn't to the sound of my phone but to a strange sensation—a tickling against my ear. My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself staring at a familiar face hovering just inches above mine. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and that sly, knowing smile.

For a moment, my breath caught. Then, my instincts kicked in.

"You're not my wife," I said flatly, my voice cutting through the quiet room.

The woman blinked, her expression feigning innocence. "Oh, Rey, how could you say that?" she cooed, her lips curling into a pout.

But I wasn't fooled. Her aura gave her away, no matter how perfect the imitation.

I could say… I'm aura-sensitive… Not the Seeker-kind of sensitive…

Before I could move, she reached for her clothes trying to disrobe. "It looks like you've forgotten what your wife looks like. Here, let me remind you—"

I caught her wrist mid-motion, my grip firm. Her fake blush and sultry act didn't fool me for a second.

"Trickster type. Shapeshifter. Information Hunter… Selena Fair," I said, my voice hard. "How do you know my wife?"

Her pout transformed into a sly grin. She knew the game was up. "Oh, Rey, you're no fun."

She leaned in closer, her hand pressing lightly against my chest, her breath warm against my skin. "You're too good for that klutz," she whispered, her voice dripping with mockery.

Her proximity set off alarms in my head. This situation was spiraling out of control, and I didn't like it. The fact that Leora, my wife—and apparently the protagonist's mom from the obscure novel I'd been reincarnated into—had history with this woman only made things more complicated.

Selena stroked my cheek, her touch gentle but calculating. Enough was enough.

I grabbed her wrist with my free hand and attempted a quick judo throw to create some distance. But she was faster than I anticipated. Twisting mid-air, she slipped from my grip and managed to turn the tables, sending me sprawling face-first onto the bed.

Before I could react, she planted a playful kiss on my cheek and snapped a selfie.

Furious, I lashed out with an aura-infused punch, but she dodged gracefully, her movements almost feline. She held up her phone, flashing the screen at me. It was the selfie—a shot of her kissing my cheek, cleavage prominently displayed.

With a mischievous grin, she clicked "send." Her disguise melted away, revealing her true form—dark brown hair, green eyes, and that same infuriating smile.

"Selena Fair," I muttered, grinding my teeth.

Her phone rang almost immediately, and she answered it with a flourish, putting it on speaker.

"You wench! You dare!? I will chop you into a million pieces—" Leora's voice erupted from the speaker, seething with fury. "Feed you to the pigs, have them shit you out, and then I'll bury you six feet underground—"

Selena winked at me, clearly enjoying the chaos she had caused.

"Selena," I said sharply, cutting through Leora's tirade, "what is your relationship with my wife?"

Selena's smile widened. "Oh, she owes me a husband."

Leora's voice practically exploded. "LIES! YOU OWE ME BIG TIME, YOU UNGRATEFUL WENCH! I ASKED YOU TO TRACK MY HUSBAND, AND WHAT DO YOU DO? YOU VIOLATE HIM! DIRTY HIS PRECIOUS CHEEK! WASH IT, REY! WASH IT FROM YOUR MEMORY!"

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "Selena, enough. Leora, calm down."

"WASH IT NOW, REY! OR I'LL DO IT MYSELF WHEN I FIND YOU!"

Selena shrugged, completely unfazed. "You're married to her? Yikes."

She leaned in again, her tone turning sultry. "Oh, Rey, forget about that boring wife of yours. You could have me instead."

Before I could respond, she dropped her voice into a perfect impersonation of mine. "You don't need to call her, Lena. She's annoying. Come here… make me feel good."

Leora's shriek on the other end was deafening.

"Stop traumatizing my wife," I muttered, facepalming.

Selena grinned. "What? I'm just having fun."

I sighed deeply, borrowing Selena's aura and equalizing it. I added a twist—returning her aura with her own disguise attribute. Her form shimmered and shifted, transforming her into a small child.

"What the—?!" Selena squeaked, her voice now high-pitched and confused.

I grabbed her phone, called Leora back, and turned off the speaker. "Why is she here, Leora?"

"DON'T FALL FOR HER TRICKS, OR I SWEAR I'LL DIVORCE YOU!"

I winced, already feeling the headache building.

~016