Eater Blade: Grinding in Apocalypse-Chapter 42: THE MASTER OF THE GUILD.

[CONGRATULATIONS!]

- You completed an anomaly quest.

[THE SEASIDE MALL WILL NOW REVERT BACK]

Reverting in progress...

A low static hum rattled the floor. Johnquis felt it deep in his bones, the anomaly’s heartbeat dying as the dream peeled away.

The ground floor, once spotless marble and fancy restaurants— cracked apart. The polished counters glitched, flickered, then rotted in a second. Menus and neon signs turned to static before dripping off the walls like wet paint. The Queen’s nest shriveled, roots snapping back into the ground like veins cut open. Half-formed Eaters melted to sludge, soaking into the broken tile.

The second floor bled next, mannequins in glass displays fell apart, silk dresses dissolving to rags. Shelves sagged under mold, toys crumbled to stuffing and dust. The bright carousel flickered, painted horses rotting to fiberglass shells, the music box popping out one last dying note before going silent.

Upstairs, the food court rotted to burned stalls and rusted fryers. Burger mascots sagged, menus spit out error codes, the smell turned from fresh-cooked to centuries-old grease and mildew. Tables splintered, benches warped. The fake summer sky on the top floor cracked wide open — the indoor pool turned black, umbrellas collapsed, the casino’s neon signs fizzed out. Slot machines jammed, poker tables fell to pieces, chips dissolved into piles of wet rot.

[REVERTING... COMPLETE.]

Back on the first floor, Johnquis glanced around the ruin — a dead mall, 300 years old again, all lies stripped bare. He wiped Queen’s sludge from his jaw and smiled at Dancer, who stood drenched, blade still glinting.

"Well... there goes her summer dream."

He recalled his chain. "Come on. This place is dead again. Let’s find the next nightmare."

Dancer clicked once, then stalked forward.

The Seaside Mall was dead again, its fake perfection stripped away. Somewhere far from that ruin, in a hidden place, a door hissed open with a quiet exhale of sterile, recycled air.

PSSSHHHH—

A woman stepped through.

She moved like she owned the floor under her heels, all clean lines and silent confidence. Her silhouette was razor-sharp: dark pencil skirt, high-slit, slit glasses balanced on the bridge of a perfect nose. Long hair tied up so tight not a strand moved. She looked perfect, almost too perfect.

She stopped in front of a big metal door. It didn’t have a handle, just a shiny black panel. She pressed her right hand against it. Under her skin, blue lights glowed, tracing veins up her wrist. The door scanned her, then slid open without a sound.

Inside was nothing like the broken world outside, everything was smooth black glass, shining chrome, and cold white lights. Hologram screens floated in the air, showing maps, weird readings, and old ruined zones. Some showed strange shapes flickering like static monsters.

A man stood at the center, facing away from her. He wore a a long, red leather coat. He looked calm, perfectly in control. A holo-map in front of him showed the Southlands and a glowing ring where the Seaside Mall used to be.

The woman walked up behind him. Her heels clicked on the glass floor. She stopped next to him and spoke.

"Guildmaster. The Seaside anomaly is gone."

Her voice was soft but clear, like she’d practiced every word.

The man didn’t look at her. He traced the map with one finger. His voice was low but smooth.

"Confirmed? Which squad did it?"

"No official squad, temporary team. They finished in six hours and twenty-one minutes."

She glanced at the numbers: [Difficulty: D Tier] — [Temporary Squad] — [Major wounds].

"Six hours? Hm."

He finally turned to look at her. His hair was neat, dark mustache trimmed sharp. His eyes were cold silver, but they seemed to see everything. He looked like an old noble turned corporate boss — too clean for this rotten world.

"Name?" he asked.

She flicked her fingers and data lit up on her eyes. "Johnquis. New graduate. Sixteen. Ranked Bronze. He uses a chain..."

She adjusted her glasses, the deep violet glow from the Eater Stone on her right hand shining as she pushed the frame up her nose. Her eyes narrowed, caught between curiosity and concern.

"But the records say he has a skill that can enslave Eaters. It literally says: ’The slave becomes loyal and cannot resist commands.’"

She exhaled, voice dropping to a hush. "That’s... not normal. Not for a rookie. Not for anyone."

The Guildmaster’s lips curled into a faint, thoughtful smile. "A chain user who binds Eaters... hm. Very unusual. Very dangerous..."

He let out a chuckle. "An Eater Blade who can command the very things they’re meant to destroy. This eater stone... it’s still so unpredictable. We’re nowhere close to fully understanding it."

"Correct, Guildmaster. We’ve been deploying Eater Blades for hundreds of years, yet it still surprises us what shape this power can take. His chain is standard issue but the way he uses it? That’s anything but standard."

The Guildmaster tapped the map. It flickered, shifting into a hazy hologram of Johnquis — black suit, the bronze Eater Stone glowing on the back of his hand, his basic info hovering around him in ghostly text.

"Johnquis... the boy from the cathedral..." he murmured.

He clicked on the Eater Stone icon. The projection erupted in twisting chains, the image zooming in until the links looked like they could rattle right off the screen.

"Interesting... His chains aren’t just a weapon. They’re a leash. A leash to capture Eaters."

The woman spoke up, her eyes still flicking through the data. "It seems he and his slave were the ones who finished the anomaly. The other Eater Blades with him... they’re all dead."

She glanced at the hologram, then at him. "Should we bring him in?"

"No. Not yet. Let’s watch. See what role he might play in this apocalypse..."

She gave a stiff nod. "Understood. And one more thing — the preparations for the new batch of graduates are ready."

"Very good, we need more Eater Blades. More weapons waiting to be uncovered. The more we have, the sooner we end this rot. We’ve lost too much time already... and too many people."

The woman’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists. "The Northland is stirring. Movements we... fear."

He didn’t flinch. "Then send off the new graduates. Double the pace of our harvest. We need fresh blade for the coming storms."

"Understood."

The Guildmaster lifted his arms, pressing his hands together in front of his mouth. His sleeves slipped back, revealing the backs of both hands — each set with an Eater Stone that glowed like pale stars, so bright they seemed to bend the light around them. The lamps overhead flickered, reacting to the stones’ living pulse.

"Every weapon we forge is one step closer to cutting out this infection for good."

A smirk crept behind his folded hands, just visible between his fingers.

The most uptodat𝓮 n𝒐vels are published on (f)reew𝒆(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦