Chapter 386: A Different Level
"We’re here." Ethan opens the door and steps out, already scanning the surroundings.
It’s the same at almost every dungeon site. One thing they all have in common is chaos. People in uniforms shouting, keeping civilians behind the police line. Others trying to calm down the families and friends of those who’d been sucked in. Figures in full gear stationed around the gate, guarding it. Tents erected nearby, some flaps left open, their contents visible from a distance.
The rest of the Hunters climb out of the car and take in the scene the same way Ethan just did.
Hawk steps out and is immediately hit by hot, salt-heavy beach wind. But underneath it, he can feel something else in the air too, something that doesn’t belong on a beach.
"That’s gotta be because of that, dude." Carter answers when Hawk says it out loud, pointing toward the massive gate roughly two hundred meters ahead, close enough that they can see it but too far for the car to reach.
"Let’s go, guys." Ethan says, already moving toward the police line.
A police officer steps into their path. "Can’t go any further, sir." His voice carries the flat, exhausted edge of someone who’s said the exact same line a hundred times already today.
"Yes, Officer. I’m aware of that, but we’re—" Ethan tries to explain, but the officer cuts him off.
"If you’re aware of that, sir, please step away from the line and don’t push the crowd forward." Same flat tone as before, right as Hawk pushes his way forward to get a better look.
"What’s wrong? Why can’t we pass?" Hawk asks.
Ethan sighs. "He says we can’t, it’s off-limits. I was about to tell him who we are and he wouldn’t let me finish." He’s well aware that Hawk has little to zero patience for this kind of thing.
He’s right. Hawk’s whole expression shifts the second he hears it.
His posture follows his face. "Look here, Officer. No, you listen to me." He cuts the man off before he can even open his mouth.
"We’re the Hunters. We were called out here to deal with this dungeon. If you haven’t received notification of that, go check with whoever actually has the authority. Because trust me, they’re expecting us."
The moment Hawk finishes, a commotion breaks out nearby. The officers seem to receive something through their earpieces, moving fast, pushing the crowd back more aggressively to clear space.
It’s obvious they’re making room for an incoming convoy heading toward the dungeon site.
Hawk spots the cars and jabs a finger toward them. "You see that? My boss is in one of those cars, and she’ll want us in there with her. Not standing out here. So go check. We’ll wait."
The officer looks at him, blinks slowly, weighing his options. He reaches for his comm device without breaking eye contact with Hawk.
He checks in quietly with the other end of the line and gets an answer back in under two minutes. He listens without a flicker of expression.
"Okay, thank you." He ends the call.
"May I see your IDs, please? All of you." He says to Hawk.
The Hunters pull out their IDs and hand them over. The officer checks them carefully against something through his comm again.
"Yes, sir. There are five of them. Okay, sir. Understood."
He hands the IDs back and clears them to pass with their car.
"Thank you, Officer." Hawk doesn’t push his luck further and heads back toward the car.
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The car door opens, and Baroness Maristella Voss steps out as though arriving at a movie premiere.
Both Director-General Weston and Commissioner Coleman treat it accordingly, welcoming her like it actually is one.
"Your Ladyship, welcome to St. Lucas, the number one holiday spot in this part of the world!" Weston beams.
"Your Ladyship, welcome. How was the ride? I hope the officers treated you properly. If not, please tell me, I’ll make sure they understand." Coleman refuses to fall behind in the flattery.
The Baroness manages to look even more smug, if that’s possible. Her chin lifts higher as she looks down at, well, everything.
"It was fine." The reply comes out lazy, unhurried.
She scans the area slowly, clearly searching for something.
"May I ask what you’re looking for, Your Ladyship?" Weston asks, tone dripping with overpoliteness, his posture bending into a slight bow.
Internally, Coleman rolls her eyes, sneering at him with pure mockery.
Ass-licking creep.
"My men." The Baroness says simply. "They should already be here." A hint of displeasure creeps into her voice.
Both Weston and Coleman visibly tense at the tone.
Weston, the creep, jumps in. "DCEU’s Alpha Team is already on site, Your Ladyship. Ready to be deployed. Perhaps..." He trails off, letting her fill in the intent herself. He feels quite pleased with his own cleverness, "advertising" his own team so smoothly, and shoots Coleman a smug glance.
Coleman, with nothing of her own to offer, can only glare daggers at him and clench her jaw.
"Hmph." The Baroness scoffs. "Your Alpha Team is nowhere near mine." She says, entirely dismissive.
Hearing this, Coleman lets out a laugh that she quickly disguises as a cough.
Weston’s jaw clenches at the sound.
At the same moment, a car pulls up a few meters behind the Baroness’s, catching everyone’s attention.
When Ethan steps out, the Baroness smiles, clearly pleased.
"Those are my men." She says it with open pride.
All eyes shift to the group of five emerging from the car. And the Baroness has every reason to feel superior, the five of them carry themselves with confidence and power, visibly a different caliber altogether from DCEU’s Alpha Team.
And everyone close enough can see it. Both Weston and Coleman stare, wide-eyed, clearly in denial that anyone could exude this much power without effort.
They both unconsciously take a step back, pushed by the sheer pressure radiating off the group.
None of the Hunters know how to properly contain their mana, and as a result, most ordinary people around them feel it as something closer to oppressive.
"Your Ladyship." Ethan bows. "Apologies for being late." He offers no explanation. The officer had only been doing his job. There’s no need to drag anyone into blame for that.
The rest of the Hunters bow behind him, following his lead.
The Baroness sweeps her gaze across them, then stops dead on Hawk.
There’s something different about him. What is it? She thinks. A quiet strength coming off him now. I don’t think that was there before. What happened to him?
Without fully realizing it, she recalculates his level upward in her mind.
"Hm." The Baroness replies. "It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here."
"Are you ready?" She asks, directing it at Hawk, already picturing him as the leader instead of Ethan.
"Yes, we are." It’s Ethan who answers.
She nods quietly, then shifts her attention to Weston. "We’re ready, Director-General Weston."
"Please, Your Ladyship. Call me Marcus." He wastes no time flattering her.
"And I’m Yolanda, Your Ladyship." Coleman chimes in immediately behind him.
The Baroness takes a slow breath.
"Alright. Marcus. Yolanda." She nods to each of them in turn. "We’re ready." She adds.
"Of course, Your Ladyship!" Weston answers instantly. Then his face shifts into confusion.
"Er, we, Your Ladyship?" He confirms.
"Yes, Marcus. We. As in myself and my team. We." She explains patiently, well aware of how strange it must sound.
"We’ll clear the dungeon. I’m entering with them. We." She adds, driving the point home.
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Linus slowly opens his eyes and is instantly hit by a massive headache.
"Ugh." He frowns. He exercises regularly, takes his vitamins, watches his health closely, even a mild headache is enough to raise his internal alarm. And now he’s hit with something far worse than mild.
His frown deepens as another throb of pain lands.
"Ugh." His hand goes to his head automatically.
Wet? Linus is surprised. Is water dripping on my head?
But it doesn’t feel like water. It’s thick. Sticky.
He looks at his palm and his eyes widen in horror.
Blood?
Strangely, the realization calms him rather than panics him. His logic runs simple, if it’s blood, then this isn’t about his health failing him, it’s an external cause. He’s still healthy.
He exhales in relief, cut short almost immediately by another wave of pain.
Once he understands the headache is more likely tied to the head injury itself, he sets the pain aside and starts scanning his surroundings instead.
He’s lying flat on the floor of his Solitaire suite. One of his legs is buried beneath a pile of debris, including what used to be his bed. He tries to wiggle his toes and feels movement. He exhales again.
I can still feel them. That means this leg is still functional.
He continues checking himself methodically. His other hand, his other leg, his neck, and finally his spine. He rolls onto one side and slowly pushes himself upright.