Chapter 133: Forty-Eight Minutes

The pinned Void Devourer shrieked as fifty times normal gravity crushed its body into the stone floor, causing its dark chitin to crack under the weight. Inside its jaw, the black singularity spun faster, gathering void energy to detonate the chamber.

Evren did not give it another second.

He stepped forward, the five-foot Frost-Bane Cleaver raised high above his shoulder. Sub-zero mist swirled around the dark steel edge, condensing into frost.

With the help of his passive skill, Kinetic Flow, a glowing blue seam revealed itself along the beast’s throat... the structural flaw where the plates joined under the gravitational lock.

Evren tightened his grip, packing the force of a meteor behind the blade as the cleaver came down in a brutal crescent arc.

CRACK-SHATTER!

The steel edge hit the seam and sheared through like a hot wire through wax.

The powerful strike sliced through thick bone and dense scales instantly. Before any black blood could spout, cold enchantments burst from the blade.

A thick sheet of ice flash-froze the severed stump, sealing the wound completely.

The beast’s massive head rolled across the floor, stopping against a cracked mirror pillar. With mana flow cut off, the black singularity inside its mouth flickered and dissolved into smoke.

The sixty-foot monster shuddered and went still.

—

Silence filled the space.

Amber drifted down, her radiant wings folding neatly before fading into golden light. She lowered her twin dragon-bone sabers, letting out a breath.

"That was fast," Amber said. "Even for an S-Rank mutated boss."

"Gravity Domain doesn’t give them room to breathe," Evren said, resting the cleaver against the stone floor.

Zephyra stepped up beside him, kneeling beside the shattered chest plate of the fallen beast. Her violet eyes locked onto the cavity beneath its ribs.

"Chairman," Zephyra said, her voice trembling slightly. "Look here."

Evren walked over and looked down.

Nestled deep within the ribcage was a fist-sized, dark amethyst crystal. Unlike the mirrors surrounding them, this stone did not reflect light. It absorbed every stray beam, pulsing with a slow, steady rhythm.

Pure shadow mana radiated from its core, completely free of toxic rot.

A clear golden prompt chimed across Evren’s vision:

[ITEM ACQUIRED: UMBRAL HEART-STONE (S-RANK MUTATED VOID CATALYST)]

[ZEPHYRA NIGHTSHADE — STAGE 4 CURE CATALYST SECURED (1/1)]

Evren lifted the cool stone from the chest. Beside it lay a spherical Level 65 S-Rank Rift Boss Core, humming with void energy.

With a quick flick of his right hand, his Spatial Storage Ring flashed. Both the Umbral Heart-Stone and the boss core vanished into dimensional storage.

Evren turned to Zephyra.

The shadow assassin remained kneeling on the floor, staring at the empty space where the stone had rested. For four grueling months, shadow rot had eaten through her body, leaving her crippled, hunted, and stripped of magic.

Now, the final piece needed to save her was in Evren’s ring.

Evren offered her his hand. "Stand up, Z. It’s yours. As soon as we get back to our hotel room, we brew the Stage Four cure and clear your channels for good."

Zephyra looked up at his hand. Her violet eyes shimmered with quiet tears that she refused to let fall. She placed her gloved hand in his, letting him pull her up.

"Thank you, Chairman," Zephyra whispered, bowing her head. "My blades, my shadow, and my life... belong to you forever."

"We’re family, Zephyra," Amber said with a warm smile, resting a hand on her shoulder. "No need to bow."

Just then, a loud snap echoed across the hall.

Without the S-Rank boss acting as an anchor, the fractured space began to collapse. The giant mirrors along the perimeter cracked, shedding thousands of purple light particles into the void.

The stone floor began to dissolve into mist.

In the center of the chamber, a swirling golden exit vortex formed, spinning ten feet above the ground.

"The rift is collapsing," Evren said, flicking his right wrist to store the Frost-Bane Cleaver back into his Spatial Storage Ring. "Let’s head out."

Amber and Zephyra nodded.

Together, the three of them stepped into the golden vortex, and the world dissolved into white light.

—

A gust of chilly air hit their faces as their boots landed on solid asphalt.

Behind them, high above the parapets of Sector A, the fifty-foot purple tear twisted inward. With a sharp POP, the tear vanished from the sky, leaving behind only the gray autumn clouds of the Imperial Capital.

The S-Rank Rift had officially collapsed.

Evren looked around.

The outer breach was completely safe. Guild Master Walter stood tall at the gate, resting his heavy steel tower shield on the broken stone. Behind him, the ten cured Iron-Thistle veterans maintained their disciplined defensive line.

Outside the barrier, drifting gray ash and dozens of shiny beast cores covered the road, where thr void hounds had fallen. Meanwhile, two hunters moved along the edge with strong crates, collecting all the fallen cores.

Not a single monster had broken past their line. Not a single hunter bore an injury.

Seeing Evren, Amber, and Zephyra walk out of the vortex completely unscathed, Walter snapped a thunderous salute against his breastplate.

"Chairman Evren!" Walter bellowed. "Outer perimeter held with zero breaches! All hostiles neutralized!"

"Outstanding work, Walter," Evren said, nodding with approval. "Have your men collect every core from the field. Consider them Iron-Thistle’s battlefield bounty."

Walter’s eyes widened with surprise and deep gratitude. Dozens of void-grade cores were worth a fortune on the market. "Thank you, Chairman! We won’t leave a single one behind."

Before Walter could say more, a rumble of diesel engines echoed down the boulevard. Three armored transport trucks pulled up to the checkpoint. The pneumatic doors hissed open.

Master Tridon jumped down from the lead cab. Behind him stepped thirty-five battle-hardened men, marching in formation.

Every single one was outfitted in reinforced alloy chestplates and carried polished tower shields forged by Tridon’s hands.

"Guild Master Walter!" the lead veteran shouted.

"Boran! Thomas!" Walter gasped, stepping forward with a broad grin. "You made it!"

"The second your dispatch came through and the wire cleared, we boarded the emergency express!" Boran replied, grinning as he banged his gauntlet against his gleaming breastplate. "Master Tridon met our train right at the platform with three truckloads of heavy gear, saying Chairman Evren had already paid the tab. Iron-Thistle is fully mobilized and reporting for duty."

Master Tridon chuckled, resting his heavy smithing hammer against his shoulder. "Told you I’d have them suited up before the train stopped rolling, Chairman!"

Walter turned back to Evren, his chest swelling with gratitude. "Chairman... forty-nine of our finest brothers are in the capital, debt-free, healthy, and armed to the teeth."

"Put them on perimeter rotation," Evren instructed smoothly. "The battle here is done, but we protect our own."

—

While Sector A celebrated, the scene half a mile north in Sector B was a complete disaster.

The gold-and-white banners of the Solar Crown Guild were torn and stained with soot. Two mana siege cannons lay overturned on the pavement, barrels cracked from overheating.

Dozens of Solar Crown hunters sat against barricades, armor scorched and arms wrapped in bloody bandages as field medics rushed between them.

Silas Drake stood in the center of the road, gasping for air. His ornate golden breastplate was blackened with burn marks, and his silver rapier dripped with dark slime.

"Hold the choke point, damn it!" Silas barked hoarsely, his face flushed with exhaustion and fury. "Don’t let them breach the secondary barrier!"

Beside him, Elder Caldwell clutched his emergency tablet with trembling fingers.

Right at that moment, the emergency broadcast sirens across Zone One let out three long chimes.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

A booming automated voice from the Imperial High Council’s defense network echoed from every loudspeaker:

[ZONE ONE EMERGENCY UPDATE: SECTOR A S-RANK MUTATED RIFT OFFICIALLY PURGED AND CLOSED.]

[TOTAL TIME ELAPSED: FORTY-EIGHT MINUTES.]

[COMMANDING UNITS: APEX SOVEREIGN CONGLOMERATE AND IRON-THISTLE GUILD.]

[RECORDED CASUALTIES: ZERO.]

Silas Drake froze mid-step.

His rapier dropped an inch, his golden eyes widening in paralyzed disbelief.

"F-Forty-eight minutes...?" Silas stammered. "An S-Rank mutated rift... cleared in forty-eight minutes? With zero casualties?!"

Elder Caldwell’s tablet slipped from his trembling fingers, clattering onto the asphalt.

He stared toward Sector A, where the sky was completely calm.

Silas had claimed that Sector A was an S-Rank death trap that would wipe out Evren and his cripples. Yet, while Solar Crown was bleeding in Sector B, Apex had crushed the boss and walked out without a speck of dust on their coats.

Silas clenched his fists until his knuckles turned bone-white, his pride thoroughly shattered.

Back at Sector A, Evren glanced toward Sector B with an indifferent look, then turned toward his waiting command car.

"Come on, ladies," Evren said calmly. "We’re going back to the hotel to brew the cure."