The light was so intense it woke everyone up—and of course, Hope began to cry. While Larah tried to calm the baby, the others exited the cars, slowly, without weapons or anything threatening on them. It was the smartest choice given the circumstances. A large number of well-equipped soldiers surrounded them. Starting a fight now would've been suicide. As the light faded, one soldier cautiously approached and ordered,
'Hands up!' Dean and the others complied. The soldier peered past them into the car, spotting Larah, who had just lulled Hope back to sleep. He raised his weapon.
'You there! Out of the car—and don't try anything funny!' Normally, Larah might have trembled, but after what she'd faced with the ghouls, it would take far more to frighten her. Cradling Hope, she stepped out and joined Dean at the front.
'Hands up, I said!' Larah gestured to the child in her arms.
'Can't really lift my arms while holding a baby.'
'Don't try me, lady,' the soldier warned, stepping closer with his rifle still aimed.
That was all it took for Dean to snap. In one smooth motion, he snatched the soldier's gun and floored him with a punch that echoed. Sark chuckled. Jessie remained motionless; her face unreadable. Before the other soldiers could react, a powerful voice cut through the tension.
'Stand down!' An older man—late fifties, no beard, white hair, deep wrinkles—stepped out of a vehicle and strode toward them. The soldier on the ground scrambled up and saluted.
'Krus, this woman was—'
'For you, it's Sir Krus,' the older man interrupted and slapped the soldier across the face. 'How can you ask a mother carrying a child to raise her arms? Are you stupid? People these days...' He turned to Dean—but didn't glance at the rifle in his hand. His eyes moved calmly to Sark, then Jessie, then finally to Larah. He gave a small, approving nod.
'I can feel it—and I can see it. You're fighters. And we need fighters like you.' He smiled faintly before continuing.
'Young man, please excuse this soldier. We've all been on edge lately. Look at the moon, the ghouls… it's chaos out here.' (Dean: He said ghouls… So the military knows.) 'I'd appreciate it if you'd return the weapon.' His tone was polite, his expression calm—but Dean couldn't ignore the man's eyes. Brown, yet radiating such authority that the 'please' felt more like a command. Dean recognized the hierarchy here.
'Of course,' Dean said, tossing the gun back. The soldier fumbled, barely catching it. As Krus's intense gaze relaxed, he added:
'Now that this is settled… Please accompany me to Behills Hospital.'
Somewhere hidden
In a shadowy chamber, several figures in white robes sat around a table. The room was dim—so dim that it was impossible to tell how many people were present, though the number was clearly small. One of them finally broke the silence.
'It seems the dark priests have made their move. At first, I thought they were the ones killing our people to prepare for this day—but that wasn't the case. And it couldn't be the Hunters. They vanished long ago… and as far as I know, they're still guarding the gate.' Another voice added,
'Surprisingly, some dark priests were also killed. And not publicly—in their hideouts. Just like it happened to us. That means…' He hesitated. '...that a dark priest and a light priest might be working together. A traitor is among us. We have to find them.' The first speaker rose, voice sharp with resolve.
'Indeed. And we will. But for now, we must prepare for their arrival.'
He strode to the far corner of the room, where a large iron cage stood. Inside, two ghouls were locked in combat. One was pitch-black—like those Dean and Dae had faced. The other was pure white. Their forms were identical, save for the color. The white ghoul bit the black one and brought it down. The black ghoul went limp… but only for a moment. Then it twitched, convulsed—and began turning white. The robed figures erupted into applause. The priest who had presented the scene raised his arm triumphantly.
'In the end, we will prevail.'