Chapter 101| Diffusing the Storm(First Gift Bonus - )
The bomb’s pulsing light intensified rapidly, and Allen felt every ounce of exhaustion from the auditorium’s earlier chaos burn away beneath sudden, absolute focus, Guardian’s Instinct screaming with an urgency that left no room for hesitation.
"Everyone down!" he bellowed, already calculating the distance between himself and the sixth assassin, positioned considerably further back than the others, tucked near a support column that offered no genuine cover from whatever the device was about to unleash.
Myria’s voice cut sharply through the chaos, tactical assessment instant despite the mounting panic. "Containment field, now! If we can’t stop the detonation, we contain the blast radius!"
"On it!" Irene’s flames roared to sudden, focused intensity, not aimed at the assassin directly, but sweeping into a tight, controlled perimeter around the device itself, an improvised barrier built from raw heat and desperate urgency.
Vivian moved with fluid, precise speed, closing the distance toward the assassin’s position even as Allen activated Shadow Transposition, the two of them converging on the threat from opposite angles with the same practiced, coordinated instinct that had carried them through countless previous crises.
The assassin, sensing the closing trap, made one final, desperate attempt to trigger the device manually, thumb pressing hard against a final activation switch — but Vivian’s blade found their wrist first, severing the motion before it could complete, while Allen’s Ashfall Talons closed around the device itself, dragonfire-infused grip crushing its outer casing before the internal mechanism could fully engage.
The device sputtered, sparked, and finally, mercifully, fell silent.
For a long, suspended moment, the auditorium held its collective breath, chaos and panic still rippling through the assembled delegates, though the immediate, catastrophic threat had, against considerable odds, been narrowly averted.
"Device neutralized," Allen reported, voice tight with adrenaline and residual terror as he handed the disabled bomb toward the nearest security coordinator with careful, deliberate caution. "Get this somewhere secure. There might be information we can extract from its construction."
Security personnel swarmed the auditorium in the aftermath, securing all six captured assassins with brisk, urgent efficiency, medical teams rushing to assist several delegates injured in the chaotic evacuation, and Farrow, still shielding the shaken but unharmed Commander, finally allowed herself a visible, shuddering exhale of profound relief.
"Casualties?" she called out, voice carrying across the settling chaos.
"Minor injuries only, from the evacuation crush," a security coordinator reported. "No fatalities. The attack itself was neutralized before any lethal force could be properly deployed."
Allen felt his own knees weaken slightly as the adrenaline finally began to recede, and Myria was at his side instantly, steadying him with quiet, familiar strength.
"You did it," she said, voice carrying overwhelmed, grateful disbelief. "All of us did it. We actually stopped this."
Allen glanced around at his wives — Irene’s flames finally extinguished, exhaustion plain across her features; Everlyn’s roots retracting slowly back beneath the auditorium’s damaged flooring; Vivian’s blade still drawn, watchful even now that the immediate danger had passed — and felt overwhelming, exhausted gratitude settle into place alongside the lingering horror of how catastrophically close this gathering had come to genuine tragedy.
The Commander approached slowly, still visibly shaken despite Farrow’s protective escort, and extended a hand toward Allen with quiet, profound gratitude.
"Hunter Veton," they said, voice carrying the particular weight of someone who understood exactly how close they’d just come to losing everything. "I don’t have adequate words for what your party just accomplished. You saved considerably more than my own life today."
"We were just doing what needed doing," Allen said, exhaustion evident beneath his careful composure.
"That’s precisely the quality this organization desperately needs more of," the Commander said, something solemn and determined settling behind their shaken but resolute expression. "This attack proves, beyond any remaining doubt, that we face threats considerably beyond simple monsters and ancient anomalies alone. Someone, somewhere, wanted this gathering to fail catastrophically, and very nearly succeeded."
Allen absorbed the weight of that assessment carefully, glancing toward the six captured assassins being led away under heavy security escort, understanding settling with grim, unwelcome clarity that whatever organization had orchestrated this attack, their reach and ambition extended considerably beyond anything Fallen Crown had previously encountered.
"We need to find out who’s behind this," he said quietly.
"We will," Farrow confirmed, finally releasing the Commander into the care of additional security personnel now that the immediate threat had passed. "Every single one of those captured assassins will be thoroughly, carefully interrogated. This organization has just been handed a considerable advantage in understanding exactly what we’re now facing."
The summit’s proceedings, understandably, were postponed indefinitely, the auditorium slowly emptying as shaken delegates were escorted toward secure, considerably more carefully guarded accommodations, and Allen found himself, hours later, finally alone with his wives in their own quarters, the accumulated weight of the day’s catastrophic near-miss settling heavily across all of their shoulders.
"That’s twice now," Irene said quietly, curled against his side with none of her usual restless energy. "Twice we’ve stopped something that could have been catastrophic, within the span of a few short months."
"And apparently," Myria added grimly, "we’ve just made ourselves considerably more interesting to whoever orchestrated this attack. Assassins captured, plans exposed — organizations like this rarely respond to failure by simply giving up."
Allen absorbed the weight of that assessment carefully, exhaustion and quiet, unshakeable resolve settling into place despite the daunting scope of everything still uncertain ahead.
"Then we stay ready," he said. "The same way we’ve stayed ready for everything else. Whatever comes next, whoever’s actually behind this — we face it together, exactly like we always have."
Outside their guest quarters, the secure Zurich facility settled into tense, heavily reinforced quiet, security personnel doubling their already considerable presence throughout the grounds, and somewhere, in a location none of them could yet identify, the architects of today’s failed, catastrophic plan began, already, the grim, patient work of reassessing their next move.
Allen lay awake long after his wives had finally drifted into exhausted sleep, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, turning the day’s events over one final time. Six assassins captured. A bomb narrowly disarmed. A Commander saved, and an entire summit’s worth of nations left shaken but unbroken.
Whatever came next, he understood with quiet, unshakeable certainty, Fallen Crown would face it exactly as they’d faced everything else — together, whatever the considerable cost still demanded of them.