Chapter 390: An Underlying Fear

LOCATION; Aspirant Corps, Alcatraz.

BEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEP!

EHHHH-EHHHH-EHHHH!

"What’s going on?" a worker in the control room asked as he stood up from his seat.

A woman seated in front of several computers frowned as her fingers rapidly flew across the keyboards.

Bang!

The door to the control room burst open, and Sergeant Lincoln rushed in.

"What’s going on? I received an emergency alarm. What happened?"

"..."

The woman tapped the keyboard a few more times before bringing up a stream of information.

The instant the data appeared before her, her gaze sharpened in horror.

"Se-ser—"

"Quit the stuttering and come straight to the point. What happened?" Lincoln cut her off, irritation evident in his voice.

The woman gulped before slowly turning to face him.

"A gate is opening up in a city."

The Sergeant’s brows knitted together in confusion.

"A gate? What’s its rank?"

The woman glanced at the computer for a brief second.

The other operators also turned in her direction, worry flickering across their faces.

She swallowed another lump in her throat before looking back at the Sergeant.

"That’s the problem... its rank isn’t known. For some reason, it’s hidden."

"....?!"

"Hidden? How can a ga— Sigh... this will give me a headache in no time." Lincoln muttered, his brows knitting tighter in frustration.

’If its rank is hidden, it means the gate could either be weak... or incredibly strong. And the beasts that flood out of it could cause unimaginable havoc. And for goodness’ sake, Captain Jake isn’t even around.’

Letting out a long, weary sigh, the Sergeant turned back to the woman.

"Where’s the location?"

"...."

"Wait... what? Are you being serious?!" Lincoln shouted in pure disbelief.

The woman nodded.

She had just given him the exact location where the gate was opening.

"But didn’t they already encounter a gate break— Ah, fuck, damn it! Is that city cursed or what?!"

"Sergeant, I don’t think we have much time. For some reason, no beasts have been spo—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I know."

Turning to glance at his watch, Lincoln tapped a few commands before barking into it.

"All the Militants in the Corps, gather the strongest Aspirants available at the moment and meet me in the parking lot. There’s an urgent mission we need to tackle. Don’t fucking waste my time!" Lincoln ordered through the watch.

Drawing in a deep breath after sending the message, he spun around and bolted out of the control room.

.....

The rhythmic chopping of rotating blades echoed through the sky twenty minutes later.

A helicarrier cut through the air at a steady speed, its massive frame slicing through the clouds as the propellers roared overhead.

Inside the carrier, about two dozen Militants sat in silence alongside a handful of Aspirants—the strongest members of this year’s batch.

Berg sat with one leg crossed over the other.

Flames crackled faintly within his eyes.

The atmosphere inside the aircraft was unusually heavy.

No one spoke.

No one even attempted to break the silence.

Every face carried a solemn expression as they waited for whatever awaited them below.

Soon, the carrier hovered above a city.

Far beneath them, the residents ran helter-skelter through the streets.

Panic had completely overtaken the city.

Men, women, and children fled with everything they had, desperately trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and a certain location.

What were they running from?

A swirling blue vortex floated a few inches above the ground.

Blue lightning crackled violently around the edges of the gate, illuminating the asphalt beneath it with eerie flashes of light.

The surrounding air rippled unnaturally, while an invisible pressure spread across the area, making the atmosphere feel heavy enough to suffocate anyone who lingered nearby.

— Sergeant, gate spotted!

A pause later, the same voice spoke again.

— But for some reason, there’s no beast in sight.

"That’s a good thing then," Lincoln muttered as he rose from his seat.

"Prepare for disembarkation."

Within minutes, the helicarrier landed smoothly.

Seconds later, every Militant and Aspirant inside the carrier filed out with practiced efficiency.

Each person radiated an aura that showed that although they were worried, they were still prepared for whatever was about to come.

Immediately taking the lead, Lincoln strode forward with brisk, purposeful steps.

The Militants fell into formation behind him.

And right behind them were the Aspirants, led by Berg.

After the whole Red Gate incident, since there was no one stronger than Berg anymore, he had naturally assumed the position as though it were his birthright.

Being one of the Big Four Legacies, the other Aspirants naturally feared him and were always quick to carry out his commands.

Nobody in the Corps could oppose him anymore.

Even so, despite there being no one capable of matching him apart from the higher-ups in the Corps, Berg never stopped striving to become stronger.

He took his training seriously and accepted mission after mission with ruthless efficiency.

It was as though an invisible fear still lingered deep within his heart.

Even though it was impossible, a part of him still feared that somehow...

He would return.

Because of that, Berg never stopped growing stronger.

Now, he had officially reached Grade 7.8 as a Meta Human.

A stark contrast to his previous Grade 6.8.

He was dangerously close to becoming a Grade 8 Meta—a rank that represented the absolute peak of what an ordinary Meta could achieve.

He was close.

Just a little more pu—

— Sergeant, there’s movement from the gate!

"Brace yourselves," Lincoln ordered loudly as he shifted into a battle stance.

Without uttering a single word, flames erupted around Berg’s hands.

The earth rumbled violently beneath the Sergeant’s feet as well as those of the majority of the Militants.

Weapons were raised.

Abilities flared to life.

Every pair of eyes remained locked onto the swirling gate.

They were ready for whatever danger was about to burst out of it.

Several tense seconds crawled by until—

"Woooah!"

Two voices shouted in unison.

Then—

Three figures shot out of the gate with terrifying momentum.

The officials were just about to spring into action when the three figures crashed face-first into the ground barely a metre away from the defensive line.

BOOM!

Dust billowed into the air.

"Wait, hold your fire!" Lincoln shouted hurriedly as he stared at the three figures lying on the ground.

Slowly, they pushed themselves onto their knees while brushing the dirt clinging to their faces.

One of them winced in pain as he clutched his side, blood still trickling from a deep gash.

The instant their faces became visible, Berg’s shoulders dropped.

The flames dancing around his hands vanished almost immediately.

His eyes slowly widened in horror.

His heart pounded violently against his chest.

’Ho-How?!’

Lincoln, the moment he recognized the figures before him, instinctively took half a step backward in disbelief.

"Yo-You are alive?!"