Free Web NovelChapter 102: _Trouble In Paradise
"Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen."
Ambrose heaved when he heard those words from the international Hunters Council speaker.
Madam Aileen seemed more relaxed than she was earlier today, eyes scanning through the hall. "I trust we’ve all had enough time to consider the plan suggested by Mr Lockwood?"
People were still trying to settle down in their seats, including Ambrose. Alisha and Devon were ahead of him, advancing up the steps to the American seats.
On those seats, Bruce, Magnus, Irina, Gabriel and Valentine were already seated. And of course, Viktor was there with a smirk that felt more infuriating than mischievous right now.
Devon sat between Viktor and his father, not uttering a word. Once Alisha sat as well, the only space available was one between Viktor and Devon.
Ambrose mumbled. "Maybe I should turn back."
Before he got the chance to make such a hasty decision, Aileen cleared her throat into her mic as silence settled into every corner of the chamber.
He scrunched his face, lowering himself to the seat. Viktor arched his brow, noticing the tension easily.
’Well, well, well.’ he thought to himself, his eyes flitting from Ambrose to Devon.
The former was obviously making an effort to avoid his gaze while the latter had all his focus on Aileen. Too much focus if you asked him.
Curious, he brought his mouth to Ambrose’s ear, smirking when he saw him shift with unease. "What is it? Trouble in paradise?"
Ambrose’s fists clenched, his head swerving to meet the icy blue orbs of the S-Rank.
Then, "I’ve neither got the patience nor the energy for your games, Morozov." A pause. "So please. Stop."
Viktor’s eyes furrowed with surprise. He blinked once. Still, he couldn’t fathom what could have happened to get the Guide in such a mood.
Did they perhaps... have some sort of argument?
"If no one has anything to say yet," Aileen’s voice sliced through the pressure like a butter knife, "then let’s continue from where we left off. This is no longer a theoretical discussion. If we proceed with Mr Lockwood’s idea, we need structure. Command. Accountability."
Her eyes scoured past different parts of the chamber with every word. She paused, turning her head to Valentine. "Mr Lockwood. You said you had a team in mind. Those who’ll breach the Echo Rift."
Valentine lifted his chin, adjusting his sunglasses. He was about to speak when someone representing France asked with an accent:
"Would this mean we’ll be leaving the mission in its entirety to the leadership of the United States?"
Aileen’s mouth parted but Valentine was already riled up, wrapping a finger around the thin black mic before him. "You do realise the Rift appeared within US borders, right?"
Another person harrumphed. "If that’s the case, why do you need the rest of us to help in this? We—"
"A ridiculous question to ask," Valentine was almost amused. "Please, put on your thinking caps, delete all grievances and biases and think for one second. If that Rift evolves into an Extinction Level anomaly, the Americas won’t be the only ones to fall."
"We’re looking at a global threat and you’re here arguing over rights to lead like it’s a class monitor position." He scoffed. "Pathetic."
The people who’d been about to object backed down, their faces etched with embarrassment.
Magnus and Irina exchanged a knowing look while Viktor sniggered to himself.
"Charming guy, isn’t he?" he whispered to Ambrose.
All the Guide did was look away, fighting the urge to glance back at Valentine. Yet he could feel the Necromancer staring right at him through those shades.
If Valentine had anything to tell him, he didn’t say, facing Aileen instead. "Anyway, the team I have in mind is simple. I’ll be a part of them while the countries sending aid to Norfolk will surround the Rift and try to keep the leviathan and other entity occupied."
"The team breaching the Rift will be made up of the following... myself. Hunter Viktor Morozov. Hunter Devon Ferguson. Guide Mateo Peterson..." he halted for a beat, listening to the silent murmurings echoing through the hall.
If they were already worked up he couldn’t wait to see their reactions to whom he had next.
"... And finally, Guide Ambrose Hale."
Those last words took a couple of seconds to register in the heads of everyone, Ambrose included. But once they did, a stunned silence dropped.
Every head spun to the American seats, hoping to catch sight of the familiar yet unrecognisable Guide name. While the Guide in question felt like the world was spinning under his feet.
"Wait." Devon was the first to break the silence. "Ambrose?"
"A C-Rank?" Someone from the Canadian representatives boomed with disbelief. "He barely survived the Aurelia city S-Rank Rift, did he not?"
Just like that, an uproar spilt from every seat and section of the chamber.
"Did he just say... C-Rank?"
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"We’re talking about a possible suicide mission and he’s suggesting adding actual dead weight?!"
Each word thrown around added an extra block in Ambrose’s chest. He stayed silent, lowering his head and steepling his fingers on his lap.
Devon noticed his mood and was tempted to reach for him. Until he noticed Viktor sliding a hand to his shoulder, flashing a reassuring look.
"Don’t let their words get to you."
Ambrose merely gave a nod, his mind already swirling with thoughts. ’This is bad. Really bad. Why would Valentine suggest something as crazy as this?’
He could already imagine the sly smile on the Esper’s mouth.
"Order, please!" Aileen shouted, exhaling with relief when decorum returned. "Now, Mr Lockwood. Your lineup was looking good until..."
She pressed her mouth into a thin line. "... The C-Rank. How exactly would he be useful to you in this mission?"
Valentine answered simply. "Because I’ve underestimated him once," he shrugged. "And I believe he has what it takes to survive without dragging the rest of us behind."
As ’profound’ as all that sounded, Ambrose didn’t buy it for a second. The guy was definitely trying to test something. He didn’t know what but he couldn’t ignore his instincts either.
"Well..." Aileen still seemed hesitant. "If that’s what you think, I—"
A sharp, almost inaudible hiss escaped from somewhere down the American row.
Ambrose’s head snapped up.
Gabriel.
The man had gone rigid in his seat, one hand pressed tightly against his temple. His brows were drawn, teeth clenched like he was holding something back. For a split second, nothing happened.
Then his eyes flared.
A piercing glow, unnatural and bright, sliced through the dim tension of the chamber.
"Argh." He sucked in a breath, shoulders locking as the pressure seemed to spike all at once.
Irina leaned forward. "Gabriel?"
No response.
Just silence.
And then—Gabriel froze completely. Like something had just clicked into place.
His hand dropped from his head, movements suddenly hurried as he grabbed the mic in front of him.
"The spatial lock..." his voice came out sharp, cutting clean through the hall. "The one I placed on the Echo Rift..."
His glowing eyes flickered.
"...It’s breaking."
