——When the Guardians Become the Hunted
Shawn's heart thudded hard in his chest, each beat a loud reminder of the danger he was in.
William—no, Dan—stood just a few feet away, a cool, calculating smile on his face.
All around them, the black-clad figures moved in perfect silence. Their presence was stifling. With every movement, the air seemed to tighten, pressing down on Shawn.
His fingers found the Thunder Core at his chest. It gave off a faint, steady hum—familiar, but not enough to fight back. Not against five trained enemies.
And beyond them, his family. Exposed. In danger.
Dan's voice broke the silence. Smooth, calm, but edged with menace.
"Do you realize, Shawn, how simple it is to keep this world exactly as it is? To preserve the balance, to maintain the cycle." He tilted his head slightly, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"With the Elemental Cores, we already hold everything we need to ensure nothing ever truly changes."
He stepped forward slowly. His breath was cold against Shawn's skin.
"You need to be part of this."
Shawn's jaw tightened.
Talking was pointless now. Dan already had the upper hand. Every escape was cut off. Any chance at reasoning had long passed.
A flicker at the edge of the grove.
Something shifted—too fast, too deliberate. The atmosphere thickened. The black-clad men faltered, their formation loosening. Unease spread among them.
Suddenly, chaos.
A blur shot out from the forest. Figures in gray cloaks emerged, their robes trailing like smoke on the wind.
No armor. Only precision.
The first strike was almost invisible — a flicker, a flash — before one of the black-clad men staggered and collapsed without a sound. The others reacted instantly, blades drawn in a shimmer of steel. But their rhythm was already broken.
At the front, a tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward. Middle-aged, powerful, with sharp features and a gaze that didn't waver. In his hands, he held a staff topped with a silver emblem: a perfect circle enclosing a pointed "V," glinting in the sunlight.
Before Shawn could process what was happening, the man raised the staff — And the world cracked open.
A wave of force burst outward. This wasn't the wild, raw energy of the Elemental Cores — it was older, deeper. The ground itself seemed to respond.
The black-clad men stumbled, pale and off balance, as though the earth had turned against them. The air twisted, reshaped by the force.
Shawn staggered, struggling to breathe under its weight.
A hand gripped his arm, steady and firm. "Come with me. Now."
Shawn froze for a second — then ran. No time for questions, only instinct.
The gray-cloaked warriors melted back into the trees.
One last flicker — Dan was gone. No footsteps, no sound. Just empty space where he'd stood.
The tall man's gaze lingered on the spot. His face was unreadable. "They'll be back," he murmured. "But we won't let them find you."
The path through the forest was rough, roots twisting underfoot, the ground slick and uneven. But the gray-cloaked warriors moved like they'd walked it a hundred times.
Shawn forced himself to keep up, legs aching, breath short, head spinning with questions he didn't dare ask yet.
Who were these people? Why had they saved him?
After what felt like an eternity, the trees parted.
An ancient structure rose under the sunset, hidden deep in the wilderness.
Laozi Palace.
Towering stone walls, etched with symbols he couldn't read, stood untouched by time.
The group slipped into a concealed chamber tucked behind the courtyard walls.
For a moment, all Shawn could hear was his ragged breaths mixing with the faint rustling of the forest.
The gray-cloaked figures surrounded him in a loose semicircle, their eyes sharp, watchful, as if even here they could sense unseen threats lurking in the shadows.
The tall man turned.
Calm yet commanding.
"I'm Kelly Farnham," he said. "Leader of the Wyrm Guardians. We protect those connected to the Elemental Cores."
His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.
"Rest," Kelly added simply. "You're safe for now."
Safe.
The word barely registered.
Shawn swayed on his feet, legs trembling beneath him. His mind reeled — fragments of the past hours stabbed behind his eyes:
The strange flare when he touched the so-called Wind Core…
William's betrayal, sharp and clinical, like a blade turned without warning…
Black-clad assassins erupting from the shadows…
And then — these strangers, the so-called Wyrm Guardians, sweeping in like phantoms, dragging him from the edge of death.
He had a hundred questions burning in his chest, but his throat was dry, his tongue heavy.
Kelly stepped closer and handed him a small leather pouch.
"Drink this. It'll help steady you."
Shawn's hand hovered midair, hesitant. A quiet alarm pulsed through his instincts — Don't trust him. Don't trust any of this.
But his body was crumbling.
Fatigue had sunk into his bones, pulling him downward like wet stone.
With a reluctant breath, he uncorked the pouch and took a sip.
The liquid bit down with a bitter heat, making him cough. But almost immediately, the fog in his mind began to thin. The dizziness receded.
A clearer awareness surged in his chest, cool and sharp like waking from underwater.
He met Kelly's gaze. "What do you know about the Cores?"
Kelly studied him for a beat — not just the question, but the person behind it. Then he spoke.
"The Cores aren't just relics of a lost age, Shawn. They're keys. Keys to a power most people can't even begin to grasp. A force capable of reshaping everything we know."
His voice lowered, firming like stone.
"But they're also weapons. And in the wrong hands… they could unmake more than they create."
He stepped forward, his silhouette etched in the dying orange light of dusk.
"You're in danger, Shawn," he said quietly. "The ones hunting the Cores — they call themselves the O.S.S. They won't stop. Not until they've claimed them all."
Shawn stiffened.
Of course—the O.S.S.
The name wasn't new, but the implications sank deeper now.
Not just mercenaries. Something colder. Structured. Operating in the spaces where law no longer reached.
He'd already faced their pursuit, already seen their ruthlessness in action. But hearing it confirmed—sent a different kind of chill through him.
This wasn't a misunderstanding. This wasn't random.
Shawn parted his lips, but the words stuck.
Not fear exactly—more like the pressure of too much coming together at once, every thread tying into a single knot behind his eyes.
Kelly placed a steady hand on his shoulder. The gesture was calm, grounding.
"Come," he said gently. "There's more you need to understand. But not now. First — you rest. Focus on today."
By the time they turned to leave, the last glow of dusk had melted into night.
Far off, a lone wolf's cry threaded through the darkened trees.
Shawn inhaled, slow and measured, willing his thoughts to quiet.
One step at a time. First, survive today.