Chapter 38 protocol : Meetings end

The stadium-like chamber boiled with noise. Executioners argued among themselves, their voices bouncing off the steel walls of Guild Tour’s central hall. The revelation of the Demon King had shattered what little certainty they had left, leaving only fear and anger.

Clarice stood at the front, her young frame commanding the attention of hundreds. She raised her hand, her voice firm but gentle.

“Calm yourselves,” she said. “There is no need for fear. We have a plan. A strategy. The Demon King will not take this world without resistance. You are not alone in this battle.”

Her words should have soothed them. Instead, a sharp, mocking laugh cut through the hall like a blade.

Chiper rose slowly from his seat, his broad shoulders trembling, his face twisted with fury. His laughter was wild, empty, like someone who had been broken long ago.

“A plan? Strategy?” he sneered. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Every eye in the chamber turned toward him. The Executioners, the Council, even Riven’s group—all fell silent as his voice thundered across the room.

“It’s obvious none of you see it,” Chiper went on, his grin spreading in manic anger. “Death Protocol’s little games. Their tricks. Their lies. They used us—Executioners!—as disposable tools. Kill this target, eliminate that threat. And if you disobeyed? If you questioned them for even a second? You were erased. Dead. Gone. Executioner or not.”

Murmurs rippled instantly through the chamber. Some Executioners gasped in shock. Others clenched their fists in anger.

“I did their dirty work,” Chiper snarled, his voice cracking with rage. “I stained my hands in blood for them. And how did they repay me? By trying to bury me like trash! And now you sit here, blind and obedient, never asking the real question.” His eyes swept across the crowd, burning. “How did the Execution Code end up in our bodies? Why children? Why us?”

The chamber erupted into chaos. Shouts rang out, overlapping until it was impossible to separate anger from fear.

“What is he talking about?”

“Is this true?”

“This can’t be real!”

Riven sat in silence among it all, his eyes lowered, his jaw tight. His fists rested against his knees, but he made no move to speak.

Cigar’s cloak swayed as he stepped forward, his glare cutting straight at Chiper. His voice was sharp with authority. “Enough. I knew we should never have let you in here.”

But before he could say more, Clarice moved quickly, her voice firm. “No. Let him speak.”

Cigar’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue. The hall quieted again, anticipation hanging heavy in the air.

Clarice turned to Chiper, her gaze soft but heavy with guilt. “You’re right,” she said, her tone unwavering despite the weight of her words. “We did what we had to do. But it doesn’t change the fact that we were wrong. For that, Chiper… I apologize.”

Gasps spread through the hall. Executioners stared in shock. The Council’s leader—the girl who claimed to have seen the end of the world—was bowing her head.

From the crowd, David stood. His presence was calm, yet his voice carried the strength of conviction. “Is this true?” he asked.

Clarice met his gaze and nodded. “Yes. We tried with adults. The system rejected them. Most died, their bodies unable to contain the Execution Code. Only three trials ever succeeded. We had no choice. We embedded the Code into children, hoping one day it would awaken. Hoping you would grow strong enough to be the heroes this world would need.”

The chamber broke apart into chaos again. Some shouted in outrage, their voices trembling. Others sat pale and silent, unable to process what they were hearing.

Julius pushed forward, his voice slicing through the storm. “I don’t think it’s wrong,” he said firmly. “Look around you—without this power, none of us would have survived this long. If the Demon King is real, if he’s coming… then we need every ounce of strength we can get.”

His words only deepened the divide. Half the Executioners roared their agreement. The others spat curses, furious at the thought of being manipulated since birth.

Then the alarms blared.

A shrill, piercing siren split the air, the steel walls flashing with crimson lights.

“WEEEOOO! WEEEOOO!”

The noise drowned every voice, forcing silence across the chamber. The heavy steel doors at the back burst open, and a messenger Executioner sprinted inside, his face drenched in sweat.

“A rift!” he shouted breathlessly. “Another rift has opened—inside the city! The monsters are already here!”

Panic surged instantly. Chairs scraped, voices rose, and the chamber descended into chaos.

Riven finally lifted his head, his eyes shadowed, unreadable. His heart pounded, but still he said nothing.

The truth weighed on him like iron. And yet, in that silence, one thing was certain—there was no more time for doubt.

The war had already begun.