?Chapter 1649:


    Yet the greatest terrory in the gnawing void of uncertainty. What did the enemy seek? Was this sabotage a distraction, a prelude to invasion, or a de aimed at his throat?


    Without understanding their hidden intent, every countermeasure crumbled like sand against the tide.


    The King spared no further hesitation. Yanking his phone from his belt, he strode into the night and dialed a number. The call connected within seconds.


    “What is it?” The voice rasping through the receiver belonged to none other than T.


    The King, shaking with unrestrained urgency, hissed into the receiver, “I’m in trouble. I need your support. Right now!” The raw edge of his desperation clung to his words.


    T, whose voice had been cool and detached, snapped to razor focus. “What happened? I’ll send reinforcements immediately!”


    Never once in his reign had the King’s voice carried such fervor and gravity. What unseen catastrophe had sparked this unraveling? At T’s clipped reply, a sliver of relief pierced the King’s dread. The exnation spilled from him.


    Only when T absorbed every fragmented detail did the full scope of the threat snap into rity. Within seconds, his voice crackled through encrypted channels, dispatching a strike team toward the pce’s coordinates.


    Simultaneously, the pce was shrouded in darkness so intense that even a hand held inches away vanished into the void. The soldiers on patrol, ustomed to every corridor, now depended entirely on the fleeting beams of their shlights to traverse the unfamiliar ckness. Their sole objective was to ward off catastrophe.


    Yet deeper within the suffocating shadows, a host of wraithlike figures moved unseen and unheard, slipping through the pce’s defenses. Vincent led them.


    To Vincent, the pce’s defenses wereughably porous. Without surveince systems, they slipped through its blind spots as effortlessly as one might stroll through an unbarred garden.


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    Vincent’s operatives had long since dissected the pce’sbyrinthine schematics. Now, their path unfurled before them.


    Whenever they crossed paths with sentries, they melted into the undergrowth without a whisper, soundless and unseen as shadows, their presence erased by the night itself.


    Yet as Vincent drew closer to the serene garden and its surrounding dense thicket, he caught the glimmer of a distant light. Through narrowed eyes, the silhouette of Ryanna materialized, barely discernible against the encroaching shadows but unmistakable all the same.


    In that heartbeat, recognition crystallized. Vincent now understood who this group truly was. With a sharp gesture, Vincent halted his team. Their forms dissolved into the shadows as Ryanna’s operatives swept past, a blur of urgency aimed squarely at the pce’s heart.


    Their panicked haste betrayed the terror sown by the crippling ckout and the total copse of systems. The paralysis of technology had left them scrambling in the dark. Not in decades had a breach of this magnitude unraveled the pce’s gilded halls.


    As Ryanna’s team vanished into the shadows, Vincent’s voice cut through the silence, low and lethal. “Advance.”


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