While the entire nation remained focused on the Capital Games, another part of Libria moved in silence far from the screens, applause, and false entertainment.

Deep beneath one of the sectors that had long ago been officially marked as destroyed, hidden tunnels stretched through old underground foundations and abandoned industrial chambers where no ordinary resident had reason to go. The sector above had already been reduced to broken structures and dead land years earlier, its ruins left untouched except by dust, wind, and the occasional patrol drone that never searched too deeply.

But beneath that dead sector, life continued.

A group of armed men walked through one of the underground corridors, their boots echoing against reinforced metal flooring. Their uniforms were dark and practical, built for movement rather than display, and each sleeve carried the same symbol—a burning fire emblem stitched in red.

The mark of the Embers.

Weapons rested openly at their sides. Some carried rifles, others compact energy guns, while two wore heavier equipment suited for assault rather than patrol.

One of the armed men glanced at the tablet another rebel was carrying, where a live broadcast of the Capital Games played across the screen.

The image showed participants moving through wilderness, workers scattered across forest terrain while Capital viewers likely watched from comfort.

The armed man let out a quiet breath.

"The Capital Games go on while the Capital laughs," he said, his tone heavy with restrained bitterness. "And while they laugh, the sectors keep suffering. Sometimes I wonder how long people can endure this before they stop believing freedom is possible."

Beside him walked another man dressed differently from the others.

His coat was lighter, covered in stains from chemicals and machine grease rather than battlefield dirt. Protective lenses rested around his neck, and several tools hung from his belt.

Clearly not a frontline fighter.

More scientist than soldier.

He answered without slowing.

"That is exactly why we are building these."

The corridor widened as they turned into a deeper chamber.

And what waited there forced even the dim tunnel lights to reflect across metal.

Rows of aircraft stood hidden inside the underground hangar.

Large ones.

Small ones.

Some shaped like attack carriers, others built narrow and sharp like strike vehicles. Several rested on launch platforms connected to concealed rail systems that disappeared into deeper tunnels.

Not all were stored in the same chamber either.

Farther beyond, through reinforced openings, more hidden platforms extended beneath underground water channels. Some aircraft sat partially submerged below a diverted river route, hidden beneath moving water so aerial scans above would detect nothing but natural flow.

Everything had been prepared quietly.

Waiting.

The scientist folded his hands behind his back while looking over the hidden fleet.

"Latest reports suggest movement soon," he said. "If command confirms timing, the Capital may finally be attacked."

The armed man looked toward the aircraft again.

"As long as the King dies..."

His voice hardened there.

"As long as the royal bloodline ends, maybe this country finally has a chance to breathe."

The scientist gave a small nod.

For a moment both men remained silent.

Then the armed one lifted a fist lightly against his chest.

"Long live Libria."

The scientist answered immediately.

"Embers will shine again."

Around them, more rebels moved through the underground base.

Uniformed groups crossed between weapon stations. Engineers checked engines. Fuel lines were tested. Crates of ammunition rolled deeper toward loading bays. The entire hidden base carried the atmosphere of something no longer preparing forever, but nearing action.

Yet among all that movement, one figure near the side wall stood completely still.

He held a tablet.

And unlike the others, his attention had frozen entirely on the screen.

His hand shook.

The image displayed one participant clearly inside the game zone.

A white-suited figure now covered partly in dust, standing near a mine entrance with a pickaxe.

Tyler.

The rebel stared harder.

His mouth tightened.

"How the hell is he alive?" he muttered.

Then more quietly, with growing disbelief:

"And why the hell is he inside the Capital Games?"

His fingers touched the cracked edge of the screen as though verifying the image would not disappear.

On the display, Tyler had already begun mining ore beside another participant, completely unaware that somewhere beneath a dead sector, someone who should have considered him long gone was now staring at him like a ghost returned at the worst possible time.

---

Back inside the game zone, the forest had already begun to lose its first calm.

Tyler stood inside the mine beside Craig, pickaxe striking stone in steady rhythm while loose fragments of mineral gathered near their feet. The mine itself was not deep yet —more like an exposed tunnel reinforced by rough supports, wide enough for several workers but narrow enough that each sound echoed sharply.

The ore veins inside the wall glimmered faintly where exposed.

Some pieces were ordinary stone.

Some carried traces of Silver metal.

And some contained the Gold ore too.

Tyler’s hand paused briefly then a small Carbonyx appeared on his hand.

He held it for a moment, feeling the faint electric pulse run through his fingers.

Then quietly, under his breath, he spoke words Craig could not understand.

"The Kunpeng accumulates energy and waits for destiny, only then to soar into the skies, carry the heavens on its back, and break through the nine heavens."

Craig stopped mid-swing and looked sideways.

"What are you saying?"

Tyler lowered the ore casually and answered without changing expression.

"Nothing. Just a song from another language."

Craig frowned, still leaning on his pickaxe.

"Oh. I thought almost all old languages were extinct. Only some old people in the lower sectors know a few strange words now."

Tyler gave no further explanation.

Because what he had spoken was not a song at all.

He had recited part of the Kunpeng Art while holding the Carbonyx deliberately.

Ever since he got the piece of Carbonyx, one thing had continued bothering him —Carbonyx never felt like ordinary electricity alone.

The purple current released from refined Carbonyx behaved too strangely.

Too alive.

Every time it discharged, Tyler sensed something deeper hidden beneath the electrical force, something closer to qi energy than simple current.

Not spiritual qi exactly.

Not prana nor Aura,

But not entirely separate either.

That was why he had tried again.

If Carbonyx truly carried some bridge between technological energy and qi-like essence, perhaps cultivation methods could interact with it.

For a moment while reciting, he had focused carefully.

But nothing changed.

No resonance. No movement. No internal circulation.

The Carbonyx remained only Carbonyx.

Tyler clicked his tongue lightly.

"Didn’t work."

Craig looked confused.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Tyler returned to mining.

Still, the thought remained.

The purple energy inside Carbonyx felt too refined to belong purely to ordinary electricity. There was structure in it, almost like hidden order waiting to be understood.

But in this world, such thoughts belonged only to stories.

Here, anything beyond measurable science was dismissed as fantasy —things told in old books, myths repeated by people who no longer mattered.

So Tyler let it go for now.

The game mattered more.

They continued striking stone.

Around them, other assigned miners worked as well, each following whatever quest their glasses displayed. The sounds of metal striking rock blended with distant chopping from forest workers and occasional movement from the river side where fishing groups had gone.

Then the mine entrance erupted with voices.

A sudden commotion.

Sharp enough that everyone inside heard it immediately.

Craig stopped first.

Tyler followed.

Without speaking, both stepped out of the mine together along with the other miners nearby. 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

Outside, more participants were already converging from different directions.

Woodcutters, hunters, gatherers, even those carrying fishing rods came toward the source of the disturbance.

The forest clearing near the mine quickly filled with survivors.

At the center stood a man wearing No. 1 on his shirt.

Tyler recognized him immediately.

Sector 1.

One of the group that had been watching everyone in the Lounge earlier with visible disdain.

And now that same participant held another person tightly by the arm, dragging him forward for everyone to see.

Tyler’s eyes sharpened instantly when he recognized the one being dragged.

Kennedy.

His clothes were dirty from work, one side stained darker where fresh mud clung to him, and his expression showed clear irritation rather than fear. But the grip on his arm was firm enough that even Kennedy had not broken free yet.

The crowd tightened.

The man with badge 1 looked around deliberately, making sure every nearby participant had gathered enough to witness what came next.

Then he raised his voice.

"This person..."

He shoved Kennedy slightly forward.

"...is the Jobless."

The words landed hard.

Even the forest seemed to pause for half a second.

Several participants immediately stepped back from Kennedy.

Others looked between the two men uncertainly.

Tyler remained where he was, silent among the crowd, watching both faces carefully.

Everyone understood instinctively that accusations inside this game could mean they can win faster.

But accusation meant little here.

What really mattered was, did they really guessed correctly?

┉┈ ◈ ◉ ◈ ┈┉

Author here~

Sorry for disappearing for a week. I was sick, so I couldn’t update properly. I’m doing a bit better now, and I’ll try my best to get back to regular uploads. Thanks for waiting and for your patience!