Sumire paced outside the large wooden doors, hands clenched into fists at his sides as his footsteps echoed faintly in the vast hallway. His thoughts ran circles in his mind, revisiting every misstep, every detail that had led him to this moment. His palms felt clammy, and the air felt thick as though it was conspiring to suffocate him.
He wasn't used to feeling this way—he was usually the one in control, the one orchestrating events. But today, everything hung in the balance, and it was entirely his fault.
The sound of rustling paper behind the doors did nothing to soothe his nerves, and his breath came in shallow bursts as he waited. The weight of his error was heavy on his shoulders, almost as heavy as the consequences he knew were coming.
Apart from the echo of his footsteps, the only other sounds that could be heard was the occasional murmur from the guards standing like statues at each corner. Sumire could feel their gazes occasionally flick toward him, no doubt sizing him up, judging whether he was going to walk out of this meeting or be carried out in a body bag. He shuffled on his feet, wiping the sweat off his palms on his coat.
He wasn't used to this side of things. Being on the inside, he was typically well-protected, but the events of the last mission had shaken things up in ways he hadn't foreseen. He wiped his hands on his coat again, trying to shake off the cold sweat that had settled on him.
How could it have gone so wrong? That thought gnawed at him constantly, and no matter how many times he replayed it in his head, the answers remained elusive.
Just when the tension felt unbearable, the sound of heavy footsteps brought him out of his thoughts. A burly man, easily six and a half feet tall, wearing a sleek black suit, walked out of the wooden doors and approached him. His broad shoulders and muscular frame were enough to make anyone feel small in his presence.
"Adjutant Sumire, Leader will see you now," he grunted, his voice low and gravelly, as though daring him to disobey.
Sumire nodded wordlessly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he stepped forward. He reached for the large wooden doors and pushed them open with a single, fluid motion. The sound of the doors creaking open seemed to reverberate through the hallway, and for a moment, the weight of the impending confrontation felt crushing.
He walked through the doors, and immediately, the atmosphere inside felt different. It was as though the air itself was denser, charged with an invisible force that pressed down on him. The room was breathtakingly opulent, a stark contrast to the tension in the air.
Expensive leather furniture, rich mahogany, and polished marble adorned the space, and large windows dominated the far wall, allowing sunlight to pour in and cast shadows across the polished floor. Yet, despite the beauty and elegance of the room, Sumire couldn't shake the feeling that he was walking into a lion's den.
At the far end of the room sat the man known only as Leader. He was an imposing figure, older, with gray streaks running through his neatly cropped hair. His face was chiseled, his features sharp, and his eyes… his eyes held a focused intensity that made Sumire feel like a bug under a microscope.
Leader was dressed in a sleek black overcoat, his muscular frame barely contained by the fabric. He sat behind an enormous mahogany table, his posture relaxed yet commanding, as if he had nothing to prove—because he didn't.
On either side of him stood two guards, equally menacing, their hands resting near their weapons, ready to act at a moment's notice. Sumire shifted uncomfortably under their watchful eyes.
Without looking up from the documents he was studying, Leader gestured for Sumire to take a seat. His hand moved with the fluid grace of someone who controlled every detail of his surroundings, including every person in the room.
Sumire's legs felt stiff as he walked toward the chair in front of the massive desk, trying and failing to suppress the growing knot of fear in his stomach. He lowered himself into it slowly, feeling his back straighten under the scrutiny. The room was silent, save for the quiet rustle of paper as Leader continued reading. Sumire avoided eye contact, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating.
After what felt like an eternity to Sumire but was a few seconds at most, Leader placed the papers on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He finally looked at Sumire, and the weight of that gaze was almost unbearable. Sumire kept his eyes downcast, his nerves getting the better of him. The silence stretched on until Leader spoke, his voice calm yet edged with authority.
"What is the most potent form of power, Sumire?" Leader finally asked, his voice smooth but edged with an authority that left no room for hesitation.
The question caught Sumire off guard, and for a moment, he didn't know how to respond. He blinked, his mind racing to find the correct answer. He cleared his throat, the sound too loud in the quiet room.
"I—I would say….control," Sumire said finally, trying to sound confident. "The ability to make others bend to your will or to manipulate the world around you."
Leader's expression remained unchanged, though a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head followed.
"Wrong!" His voice cut through the room like a blade. "The most potent form of power," he leaned forward slightly, "is the power your enemies don't know you have."
Sumire felt the blood drain from his face. He had known he was wrong the moment Leader shook his head, but hearing it spelled out in such simple terms drove the point home. He quickly nodded, not wanting to risk further displeasure. "I-I see."
Leader's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze still fixed on Sumire. "Do you?" he asked, his tone beginning to rise in anger. "Because I'm struggling to understand how someone who claims to understand power could fail so miserably on such a simple mission. You, a Late-stage adept with the ability to turn yourself and others invisible was actually caught by the enemy. You know how incompetent that makes you? You actually forced me to reveal some of the organization's power just to get you out of the mess you created."
Sumire broke out in a cold sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. He had known this was coming, but the way Leader phrased it made it clear just how badly he had underestimated the situation.
"I… I apologize," he stammered, searching for the right words. "It was mostly the fault of the contact I had been in touch with." The words spilled out in a rush, desperate to deflect the blame.
Leader's eyes flashed with anger, and he immediately regretted his words. Deflecting blame had been a terrible move. He could feel the leader's patience wearing thin, and every instinct screamed for him to backtrack.
"But despite the complications, I managed to complete the assignment," Sumire added hastily, trying to salvage the situation. "I obtained the information we needed. The mission wasn't a complete failure."
Leader's anger ebbed slightly, though his expression remained hard. "Continue," he said, his tone indicating that Sumire was being granted a rare reprieve.
Taking a shaky breath, Sumire pressed on, "I found out why the Adli government have been recalling their Third Pathfinding army. It—it's not what we originally thought." He hesitated, glancing at Leader, but when the man said nothing, Sumire hurried on. "The real reason... it's something I think you need to see for yourself."
Sumire reached into his jacket and pulled out a small, secure data chip, holding it out cautiously. One of the guards stepped forward, snatching the chip from Sumire's hand before walking over to a computer terminal on the table. The guard plugged it in and turned the monitor toward Leader, who leaned forward slightly as the data was displayed.
For several tense seconds, Leader's eyes scanned the screen, his expression unreadable. Then, his face shifted—his eyes widened, his brow furrowing in disbelief. He leaned closer to the screen, his features hardening as the full impact of what he was seeing sank in.
The silence that followed felt like it stretched on forever.
Finally, Leader tore his gaze away from the screen, fixing his eyes on Sumire once again. "Where is this?"
Sumire nodded, doing his best to keep his voice steady. "Based on what I've gathered, Tempest Grove, Adli. Everything points to it being genuine. The Adli government is moving their forces for this."
Bordering on the far side of the city-state of Pinecrest, Adli was a rather peculiar city-state in the nation of Avalor. Unlike other regions that had found a way to carefully preserve their heritage and structure during the troubling period of the Uprising, a high percentage of the landmass of Adli consisted of countries that had long since fallen, making the city-state a patchwork of cultures, languages, and traditions.
Leader muttered something under his breath, his hand rising to stroke his chin thoughtfully. "If we can control it and learn it's secrets," he murmured, almost to himself, "it could bring us much closer to our goal."
The air in the room felt charged, the tension palpable. Sumire dared not speak, not wanting to interrupt Leader's train of thought.
After what felt like an eternity, Leader leaned back in his chair, his eyes still burning with intensity. "You've been pardoned," he said, his voice cool and measured, "for your slip-up."
Sumire felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was short-lived.
"In exchange," Leader continued, "you'll be leading a task force to Tempest Grove. You are to secure the object of interest and ensure it's in our control before anyone else gets their hands on it."
Sumire nodded quickly, bowing his head. "Of course, Leader. I won't fail you again."
"I know you won't," Leader said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "I'll assign you a team, including one 2nd-tier from our ranks, to prevent any further 'mishaps'."
Sumire could feel the weight of Leader's words pressing down on him. There was no room for error this time. "Yes, sir."
For a moment, the room was silent, the tension between them palpable. Then, Leader rose from his chair, towering above Sumire with an intimidating presence that filled the room. His hands clasped behind his back as he walked toward the large windows, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city below. The sunlight streamed in, casting long shadows that seemed to emphasize the power disparity between the two men.
Leader stood silently for a moment, as if pondering something deep and inscrutable. When he finally spoke again, his voice was calm but held an underlying menace. "Remember, Sumire," he began, his back still turned, "this mission isn't just about personal redemption. Our cause is greater than you. Greater than me. Greater than any one individual!" His words resonated with a weight that made Sumire's stomach churn.
Sumire sat motionless, eyes locked on Leader's imposing figure. The silence was suffocating, but Sumire knew better than to speak out of turn.
"Cultivators must rise to the top of this world," Leader continued, his voice growing stronger, more fervent. "We have allowed weaker people to dictate our place in society for far too long. No more!" He turned slightly, his sharp eyes glinting with passion. "This world must understand that we are not anomalies to be regulated—we are gods waiting to be unleashed."
Sumire felt a chill run down his spine as Leader turned fully now, facing hin once more. His face was a mask of determination, the fiery conviction in his eyes a stark contrast to the icy control of his movements.
"This is your last chance, Sumire," he repeated, each word cutting through the air with brutal clarity. "Do not mistake this opportunity for mercy. If you fail, there will be no more discussions, no more missions. You will cease to be useful to the organization, and the organization does not keep people around who have no value."
The threat hung in the air, unspoken but clear. Sumire's mouth went dry, and he gave a stiff nod, forcing the words out through a tight throat. "Yes, Leader. I won't fail."
Leader studied him for a moment longer before nodding, apparently satisfied. "Good," he said, his tone softening ever so slightly. "For the Supremacy of Cultivators."
"For the Supremacy of Cultivators," Sumire echoed, standing and bowing deeply in respect.
With that, Leader turned his back to him, staring out the massive windows that overlooked the city.
Sumire stood, bowing one last time before turning on his heel and making his way out of the room. As the doors closed behind him, the tension in his chest slowly began to release. His palms were slick with sweat, and he exhaled deeply, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
He had survived the meeting. Barely.