Chapter 132: The Summoner project

Words : 1095 Updated : Oct 6th, 2025

Chapter 132: The Summoner project Drip! Drip! Thump! The body of the soldier collapsed face-first onto the cold, metallic floor, instantly soaked by the thick, crimson liquid pooling beneath his face. Blood spread like a blooming flower, tainting the dim hallway with the scent of iron and death. It wasn’t just once. Drip... Thump. Drip... Thump. Over and over again, the sickening sound of bodies crashing to the ground echoed through the half-lit corridors. The victims fell one by one, their throats neatly slit by something—or someone—far too swift and silent for them to react in time. The building wasn’t plunged in complete darkness, but the emergency lights barely flickered. The main power supply had been cut, likely as a result of the chaos erupting outside. The emergency red glows cast eerie shadows that danced across the walls, making the blood appear even darker. One soldier, perhaps the last to notice, activated his Integration—a military-grade sensory interface—hoping to scan the area for any signs of life or danger. But what he saw only confused him more. Nothing. No heat signatures. No movement. Just silence. Soldiers all around him were staggering, then collapsing without a visible cause. Not a scratch. No sound of attack. It made no sense. Was it a prank? A trick of the Integration? Or had he been left out of some covert training operation? But deep down, he knew. This was no prank. Someone was out there. Killing. And now that someone was close. Instinctively, he stepped back to retreat, but the moment his foot touched the ground, a wave of pain exploded from his throat. His vision blurred. His muscles gave out. With a heavy, lifeless thud, he crumpled onto the blood-slick floor. He didn’t understand what had happened. No weapon, no warning, no sound. He was dying. The last thing he saw as consciousness faded was a pair of dark boots approaching, silent as death itself. Then... nothing. Despite wearing boots, the figure responsible for the massacre moved like a phantom. Each step was silent, deliberate, and filled with an aura that made the air grow heavy. He paid no mind to whether he was seen or not. Why should he? Anyone within a six-meter radius would be dead before they even blinked—throats cleanly severed by an invisible edge. Unless a powerful figure was present—someone worthy of challenging him—he had no reason to worry. And with the current state of Titanfang, that seemed unlikely. The academy was under siege. Grade Three Summoners were probably the only ones still fighting, desperately trying to defend the inner walls. Rodrics Thorne yawned, walking casually past the fallen bodies. He stepped lightly, avoiding the blood trails with calculated grace. ’Thanks to the distraction of this attack, I can finally get some personalized, secret info.’ He smirked. This wasn’t a mission sanctioned by the Thorne family. No orders had been issued. He was acting on his own. But that didn’t make it any less important. Among all the powerful factions, the Military held the crown when it came to knowledge. They harbored an abundance of secrets—so vast and elusive that even the highest-ranking families spoke of them as myths. Rodrics knew his father. He craved those military secrets more than anything. If Rodrics could acquire even a fraction of that hidden knowledge, he could ensure his position as the next heir to the Thorne legacy. No one would challenge his claim. He finally arrived at a particular section of the compound—one that radiated importance. Before him stood a colossal door—vault-like in structure, the kind of safe that looked like it could survive a direct nuclear strike. No keyhole. No fingerprint scanner. No visible tech interface. Just a seamless, reinforced barrier. Impenetrable. Unmovable. Undeniably military. But Rodrics had come prepared. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small cube-shaped device. With a few taps, the cube emitted a mechanical whirring sound. A burst of blinding white light flashed—as if a shutter had gone off in a high-tech camera. Without hesitation, Rodrics returned the cube to his pocket and walked straight toward the massive door. He didn’t stop. And he didn’t slow down. He passed through it—as though it were nothing more than a ghostly illusion. No resistance. No sound. Just... entry. He emerged on the other side into a vast room resembling a library—but instead of books, shelves were filled with rectangular, tape-like boxes. Each one held secrets the world outside had likely forgotten—or had never known. Rodrics didn’t have the luxury of time. The cube device he had used was a one-time access tool. It would deactivate in under two minutes. If he was still inside when it expired, he’d be trapped—sealed in forever. That is, if he didn’t lose his mind from isolation first. No thank you. He quickly moved to the nearest shelf, activating his storage ring. He grabbed two tapes from each row—just enough to get a wide range without drawing suspicion. Strategic theft. A few here, a few there. He counted the seconds in his mind. Less than thirty left. Satisfied, Rodrics turned to leave—but then he froze. ’Turn back, Rodrics!’ The voice slithered into his mind like a blade drawn against wet stone. Sinister. Whispered. Urgent. His summon. At first, he ignored it. Time was short. But he knew better. His summon never spoke without cause. And never in fear. He spun around, eyes scanning the shelves. There—his gaze locked onto one tape, almost as if drawn to it. "Is that what you want me to see?" Rodrics asked, his voice tight with urgency. ’Yes... That... That... Thing...’ the voice of his summon trembled. ’That one...’ Rodrics narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the tape. Something about it felt... wrong. It was different. Unlike the others, this tape wasn’t black or metallic. It was silver—glimmering faintly under the red emergency lights. And it had blood stains dried onto its surface. Why? Accident? Or a warning? ’Are the military being pigs... or did they leave it that way to signify the danger of this information?’ The thought crawled down his spine. His fingers brushed against the tape as he picked it up, reading the inscription etched into its side: "Project: Dark Wing." Just the name alone made his skin crawl. Rodrics didn’t know what secrets this particular tape held—but whatever it was, it wasn’t ordinary. It was something else. Something terrifying and even he could sense that now. Whatever the Military were so hell-bent on hiding he had to dig it up.

Chapter 132: The Summoner project

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