The Junction Hall of the Atlantis Organization no longer carried the cheerful atmosphere from earlier that night.
The music had stopped hours ago. The Event ended at 4:36 AM. Everyone enjoyed and ate good.
Decorations were hanging from the upper rails and pillars but now they felt strangely out of place.
Agents stood in groups beneath the tall glass ceiling, speaking in lowered voices.
Some leaned against the marble walls with crossed arms while others quietly exchanged reports through tablets and communicators.
High-ranking members had already gathered near the center platform where decisions were usually announced.
It was now being 6 and 13 o'clock.
Someone had attempted to target the Martial's residence during the celebration.
At the far side of the hall, near one of the long windows where pale dawn light slowly entered, Henry, Roland and Avery stood together away from the larger crowd.
Roland rubbed the back of his neck tiredly.
"I still can't believe all this happened in one night and somehow we're still standing here pretending this is a normal morning."
Avery let out a quiet breath. Holding a warm paper cup between both hands.
"That's because organizations survive by acting normal even when everything is falling apart. If we panic, systems outside of these abnormalities will falter eventually."
Henry stayed leaning against the window.
"So what happens now? They interrogate the intruders, find out where they came from… then execute them?"
Avery glanced toward the center platform where several senior agents were already gathering.
"Most likely. Trying to attack a Martial's home isn't treated like ordinary terrorism. It's close to declaring war."
Roland frowned slightly.
"But what if those guys were just pawns?"
Henry gave a tired laugh. "They definitely were."
The three fell quiet after that.
The murmuring inside the Junction Hall slowly faded when the gentleman,
Allen Iverson stepped onto the central platform.
The Junction had fallen quiet since he stepped up in the stage.
Allen adjusted the thin frame of his glasses once before resting a small stack of documents against the podium.
His sleeves were still rolled neatly to his elbows. He had come directly from work without bothering to change.
Under the pale dawn light pouring through the glass ceiling, he looked less like a heroic figure and more like a tired office worker who happened to understand terrifying things better than most people alive.
"The intruders apprehended earlier tonight have been identified through behavioral doctrine, movement synchronization and tactical alignment."
He maintained a silence before announcing the opposing party,
"They were sent by the Order of the Third Hand."
The hall immediately stirred in disbelief.
Some agents cursed quietly under their breath. Others exchanged looks with confusion.
Allen continued before the noise could grow.
"The attempted breach at the Martial residence and shares multiple operational similarities with the earlier infiltration incident stopped by Young Four-Star Agent Henry Ford."
At the mention of his name, several eyes across the hall gazed toward Henry's side of the room.
Allen did not dramatize it. That made it feel more real.
He flipped a page once gazing up at the audience.
"Something done willingly was never a coincidence. For years, various Organizations across Kal'zhet have maintained peace not because trust exists but because fear of consequence does. Balance is rarely built from friendship. Most systems survive because everyone understands how expensive chaos becomes. Tonight, some folks decided to finger in the bull's nose hole."
He removed his glasses briefly, polishing one lens with slow precision before putting them back on.
"The violence between organizations will not be judged emotionally. Other parties will observe the evidence and decide the appropriate response. Until then, no reckless retaliation will be permitted."
Then his expression changed slightly.
"However, peace should never be mistaken for weakness."
Allen Iverson closed the final document in his hand and gave a small nod toward the gathered agents.
"That is all for now. Thank you for your patience."
He simply stepped down from the platform and disappeared into the movement of higher-ranking personnel gathering near the center of the hall.
The noise slowly returned afterward, though quieter than before.
Groups of agents immediately began discussing the announcement among themselves.
Henry was observing the surrounding reactions.
A few looked genuinely afraid of what might happen between organizations if the accusation became public beyond Atlantis. There were somethings too suspicious to share.
Near the side window, Roland stayed silent for a while before finally speaking.
"So… if organizations are led by Kings, why not just hold elections properly? Wouldn't that stop all these power struggles before they become a problem?"
Avery almost laughed, though there was exhaustion behind it.
"You think these groups work like normal governments? Kings aren't chosen because people like them. They are chosen because organizations believe they can survive under them. Leadership here is earned, not given."
Roland frowned slightly. "Umm, sounds unfair."
"It is unfair. That's the point." Avery replied.
She folded her arms loosely before continuing.
"Most organizations keep records of confrontations, treaties, operations, internal disputes… everything. Reputation matters more than popularity here. If someone looks weak during conflict, the documents alone can destroy their chance of becoming King."
Henry leaned quietly against the wall beside them.
"So the election already happened long before anyone votes."
Avery glanced at him once and nodded.
"Exactly. By the time people argue openly. But the recent news about Order of the Third Hand struggling to find its next King is going out of business."
....
The black sedan roamed through the abandoned industrial district.
Rusted signboards creaked in the wind.
Empty warehouses stood like dead giants on both sides of the road.
Inside the car, Vincent van Gogh checked the silver watch around his wrist and lightly tapped the glass.
"Seven-thirty. We are still on time. That's surprising considering how dramatic these people like to be."
He leaned back afterward with relaxed elegance. Vincent looked young at first glance but there was something strangely worn beneath his appearance.
His dark blue coat hung loosely over a cream shirt left partly unbuttoned near the collar. A thin chain rested against his neck, and paint-like stains marked the edges of his gloves as though he constantly touched ink, canvas or chemicals.
His hair was messy and blond with soft curls near the ends. Gave him the appearance of an artist rather than an operative.
Beside him sat Melisande, posture composed, eyes forward. She wore a fitted gray suit beneath a long white overcoat draped across her shoulders.
Her black hair was tied neatly behind her head, exposing large cute eyes.
Unlike Vincent's relaxed aura, Melisande felt casual.
"You are talking too much again."
Vincent smiled, "That's because silence around abandoned buildings usually means trouble."
The sedan finally stopped before the enormous compound ahead. Tall iron gates blocked the entrance while armed guards stood outside in formation.
Vincent and Melisande stepped out calmly and approached the main gate.
Then one gaurd right there stopped them.
"Stop there. No entry. Direct orders from above."
Melisande reached into her coat without hesitation and produced a black invitation card marked with silver insignias.
"Special authorization, Issued personally by the Martial of the Order of the Third Hand through online registration."
The guards exchanged glances. After a tense moment, the gates slowly began opening inward.
Vincent looked toward the massive building ahead and gave a light chuckle
"Well, let's meet the future Kings."