Chapter 18 - "The Hunt Commences"
A voice echoed—distorted, amused.
"Now, now. What's a Grand Auction without a little chaos?"
Silence.
Then—
The entire hall erupted into chaos.
Security forces deployed. Drones homed in. Barriers flashed to life.
The head security roared.
"ENGAGE!"
The guards attacked.
A wall of armed security charged forward, shock batons snapping, energy rifles locking onto targets.
The thief moved.
No—they all did.
A blur of perfectly coordinated motion.
BOOM—!
A single step forward, and they vanished.
Then—a flash of silver.
The first guard never had time to react.
One of the gang members suddenly materialized behind him, a thin blade gliding across his chest armor in one smooth motion. The next instant, his whole chestplate was cleaved apart—the cut too neat, too sharp.
He collapsed, unconscious.
Another guard pulled the trigger.
The bullet never had a chance.
One of the members tilted their head, idly lifting a gloved hand. The bullet suspended in mid-air. Then, in the next instant it reversed direction, going back to the shooter at twice the velocity.
The guard barely ducked just in time before it ripped through the steel wall behind him.
More guards rushed in.
They pinned one of the gang members, suffocating them with sheer numbers.
For an instant, it seemed they had them pinned down.
Then—
They vanished.
Like a glitch in reality, the thief was back above them, inverted, their foot coming down on the nearest guard's skull like an axe.
CRACK.
His helmet shattered.
The thief leapt off him, bouncing over three guards before settling delicately on a high-railing as if a ghost on clouds.
Their mask tilted slightly, grinning.
More bullets.
More impossible movements.
The robbers dodged bullets, their forms blurring, shifting in and out of visibility as if they weren't quite solid.
One vanished just before impact—only to reappear behind the gunman, tapping them on the shoulder before knocking them out cold.
Another climbed up the side of a pillar, running horizontally, then launched off in a whirling kick that sent two guards flying across the room.
The security team was losing.
Fast.
One of the commanders gritted his teeth, pulling out a high-tech containment device. "Enough of this—activate the suppressant field!"
A sphere of energy suppression burst out, trying to disable any magical or technological enhancements.
Everything held still, frozen, for an instant.
Then—
The thief relaxed.
There was a tiny chuckle.
They snapped their fingers once more.
The suppression field quivered.
But the harm was done.
The security team was shattered, dazed, hardly able to stand.
And the leader of the thieves?
Still positioned right where they had begun.
Untouched.
Phantom, seated comfortably in the Sentinel VVIP chamber, simply leaned forward, chin on knuckles.
A smile pulled at his lips.
"Interesting."
Glitch flickered beside him, his flames burning with annoyance. "Bro. What the hell are we looking at?!"
Phantom's eyes glowed dimly behind his wolf mask.
His vision cleared.
His instincts engaged.
His system ignited.
A new interface spread before him.
[TARGET ANALYSIS]
- Identity: [UNKNOWN]
- Threat Level: ????
- Gender: Female
- Tier: SSS
- Additional Note: [Affectionate towards the user]
A final message glared at the bottom—
[Worthy to be waifu material.]
Phantom's smirk stuck.
Glitch, upon seeing system window, went insane.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL—"
His flames raged wildly. "WHAT KIND OF ANALYSIS IS THIS?!"
Phantom exhaled through his nose. This system had never been wrong.
Not once.
And that made things…complicated.
His eyes shifted back to the scene in front of him.
The guards were still flailing, trying their best to connect. They couldn't.
Because every single one of the "intruders"—
Wasn't real.
Phantom's voice cut in, smooth and almost laughing.
"It's just one person."
Glitch ceased his rant mid-sentence. "Huh?"
Phantom went on, his golden eyes shining.
"The first person who entered—the original—is the only real one."
Glitch blinked. "Then who the hell are the rest?!"
Phantom observed as a dozen figures dodged through the guards, flickering in and out of existence.
He replied in one word.
"Holograms."
Phantom leaned back, exhaling. "Solid holograms. Some form of advanced projecting ability."
The guards were collapsing.
Swords, bullets, energy blasts—none of them hit. None of them even connected.
The thief—the real one—was a phantom in the storm.
She dodged between the guards, moving effortlessly past their desperate attacks.
A bullet singed where she had stood—not where she now stood.
A sword sliced through empty air—not through her.
Her body twisted like a dancer, using the illusions as cover, luring the guards into combat with shadows.
Then, just as the security team adjusted, preparing to adapt—
She moved.
For the first time.
The instant she struck, the fight was done.
A single step.
A single strike.
The first guard fell—an instant nerve strike freezing him in mid-motion.
The second fell—a sweep to the knees, sending him crashing into his companion.
The third didn't even notice it coming—a knife-hand to the back of the neck.
One by one—each member of the security force fell.
The battle was over.
The guards were sprawled on the floor, motionless, groaning in agony but alive.
And yet—
The army stood.
Not one of them had moved.
Not one of them had responded.
As if they never needed to.
As if they never existed at all.
Aspen's executive narrowed his eyes. His breath was slow. Controlled.
The VVIPs of the mysterious organization were still.
The auctioneer remained frozen, his knuckles white around the gavel in his hand.
The whole room waited.
For something.
For anything.
And then—
The intruders shifted.
Not in an assault.
Not in a retreat.
Just… walking.
Silently.
Effortlessly.
Not towards the guards.
Not towards the guests.
Not even towards the relic.
Towards the hole.
Like they have already won.
Aspen's executive broke silence at last, his voice low, unreadable.
"…What do you want?"
No response.
Not from the leader.
Not from the "army."
They just walked.
Through the debris.
Through the chaos.
Through the same exact hole in the ceiling they'd come in through.
As they moved by, one person stroked their fingers over the display case.
A soft glow throbbed—
And then—
The relic vanished.
No fast motion. No big flourish. Just an effortless disappearance, as if the artifact had never been there to begin with.
Phantom, watching from above, smiled behind his mask. Cold. Calculated. Ruthless.
Aspen's men didn't budge.
Because they were scared.
But the army—this impossible, untouchable force—was leaving. Just like that.
With the relic.
Without a single wasted movement.
The silence was unbearable.
The illusion remained intact.
And then—
They were gone.
The last black-robed figure disappeared into the hole of the destroyed ceiling.
The golden chandeliers swayed one final time.
And then—.
"That's enough."
A voice shattered the tension.
Sorin Veltre.
Still sitting. Still composed.
He tweaked his glasses. "Phantom. Finish up and meet me later."
And with that—he rose and departed.
Not even looking back to continue watching.
Glitch flinched. "Wait—he's just LEAVING?!"
Phantom sighed.
Then he also stood.
Slowly.
Purposefully.
His hand reached up, gripping the edges of his wolf mask.
Shift.
The mask transformed, morphing into a sleek, full-cover wolf-like helmet.
Black. Crimson-eyed.
A hunter's face.
His attire adjusted, the advanced material strengthening itself, causing him to look like a beast shrouded in shadows.
And finally—
He slid his hand across his back.
A compressible weapon.
It expanded in his grip—
A bow.
A black, streamlined longbow, crafted to deliver crushing precision.
He spun it once, feeling the weight.
Then, he looked up.
The thief was already on the move, escaping through the shattered rooftop.
Phantom smirked beneath the helmet.
"Time to hunt my rabbit."
And then—
He moved.
A single step. A single launch.
And then—
He was gone.
The hunt has commenced.