While Mael remained in the restaurant, unaware of everything, the report had already left the star system.
It traveled in silence, passing through overlapping layers of sealed channels, ancient protocols, and routes known only to a handful of organizations. It left no visible trace, generated no detectable fluctuations… yet its mere existence had already begun to disturb the balance.
On a distant moon, suspended in the darkness of space, an operations base stood.
Three buildings formed the complex. Cold. Functional. Devoid of any unnecessary ornamentation.
Inside the main building, a spacious and perfectly ordered hall housed twenty individuals, each at their own workstation. No one spoke more than necessary. No one raised their voice.
Before them, occupying an entire wall, a massive screen continuously projected the status of active missions.
Each notification appeared with a brief description…
and, at the front, its rank.
Within the same hall existed an isolated room, separated by opaque panels. Inside was the leader of the unit: analyst and strategist, responsible for judging what others merely executed.
Seated among the twenty operators was Dix.
Before him flowed a constant stream of reports from every corner of the system: reconnaissance, infiltration, silent elimination, data acquisition.
His fingers moved with precision across the holograms, drafting notes, assigning color-coded tags, categorizing threats with the calm of someone who had already seen everything.
Dix was a veteran.
He had witnessed too many tragedies, too many anomalies, too many deaths to be easily surprised.
But then—
His fingers stopped.
On the screen, a single letter shone with a different intensity.
S.
For a fraction of a second, Dix forgot to breathe.
What he felt first was not surprise.
It was recognition.
An uncomfortable recognition.
It was the first time he had ever seen an S-rank mission.
A cold, silent chill ran down his spine. Dix swallowed without realizing it. Then, with a swift motion, he activated the maximum alert protocol.
While the other nineteen operators continued working—some still unaware—an alarm sliced through the air of the hall.
The massive screen shifted abruptly.
Concise text.
Minimal data.
And at the front—
A huge red S.
Everything stopped.
The sound of typing vanished.
Some operators froze in place.
Others frowned, as if expecting it to be a mistake.
Three figures emerged from the isolated room.
The leader, whose expression appeared calm, though his eyes betrayed him.
An analyst, unable to process what he was seeing.
And a strategist who immediately understood an uncomfortable truth:
No strategy was sufficient against something ranked S.
A heavy silence settled over the hall.
And along every channel through which the report had passed, only one sensation remained:
Unease.
In the middle of space floated a small city.
At its core stood an imposing structure that descended four levels underground.
At the deepest level, five people gathered around a table.
At its center, the report of an S-rank mission hovered like an omen.
"An assignment that is rarely seen," one of them said. "A mission where death is guaranteed."
"It allows no mistakes," another voice replied.
One of them took the report and studied it carefully.
"This is beyond our control."
The document was passed to the individual seated at the center.
He examined it, his brow furrowing.
Our client specializes in gathering information…
yet even they did not dare to handle this themselves.
Only an assassin would.
He raised his gaze.
"The alert did not originate from the Seventh Shadow," he said. "It originated from the largest information-gathering organization of all: the Network."
He placed the report back at the center of the table.
"More precisely… from the very heart of the Celestial Court."
"They have infiltrators everywhere," another voice added.
"The infiltrator did not exaggerate."
A cold voice cut through the room.
"Nor would they have survived if they had been wrong."
It was time to see what had truly happened.
A hologram activated at the center of the table.
The footage began to play.
As the recording progressed, the atmosphere grew heavier.
Fear.
Tension.
Doubt.
And then—
The exact moment the artifact shattered.
When the hologram faded, absolute silence followed.
At last, someone spoke.
"An artifact capable of measuring the Seventh… failing?"
"That's impossible."
"This is beyond our reach."
"Sovereign Primordial…?" someone murmured.
A term known only to a few.
"We must inform him."
When the Shadow doubts, it consults something older than itself.
The person at the center drafted a message, attached the recording, and sent it.
Message accepted.
Awaiting response.
"It's time to send the report to the client."
Elsewhere in space rose a colossal tower, its docks constantly receiving and dispatching countless ships.
It was the largest information organization in the stellar cluster.
Events.
Rumors.
Truths.
People.
Organizations.
Treasures.
Maps.
Forbidden locations.
Everything.
At the highest level of the tower, the leader, Kel, received the report from the Seventh Shadow and burst into laughter.
"A sovereign?" he laughed. "A sovereign!"
"This is information about a sovereign," he repeated, almost delirious. "Do you know how long it's been since the last event involving one?"
He stood from his seat.
"They only appear at the Grand Conference once every ten thousand years—and even then, only two or three."
His eyes gleamed.
"This is worth a fortune."
"And right before the Grand Conference…"
His smile widened.
"Our organization's status will skyrocket."
He laughed alone in his office.
Outside, one of his employees listened in silence.
And for the first time, did not share that laughter.
On the planet Caelvar, the Celestial Court reacted swiftly.
After the lake incident, they conducted a thorough purge.
Every corner was searched.
Every record examined.
They found no infiltrators.
Yet not long after, Asrem, leader of the sect, received a message.
Catastrophe-level information regarding your Celestial Court.
If you wish to obtain it, the price will be extremely high.
After a long process, he accepted.
When he finished reading, Asrem stomped the ground with force.
The impact shook the hall.
Walls cracked.
Fractures spread across the floor like exposed veins.
His voice echoed throughout the Celestial Court.
"Emergency meeting. Now."
Somewhere else.
A report passed through seals that belonged to no registered organization.
Layers of ancient security.
Foreign even to the Seventh Shadow.
At last, it arrived at a place where space itself no longer obeyed common laws.
There—
Something opened its eyes.
There was no release of power.
No pressure.
No distortion.
Only absolute attention.
The report unfolded.
The lake.
The artifact.
The exact instant the measurement failed.
The image stopped on a single figure.
Daverion.
"An instrument capable of measuring sovereigns," a voice without origin resonated,
"and yet it could not endure him."
Silence.
"Which of the first four… are you?"
There was no judgment.
No laughter.
Only interest.
"The Seventh Shadow acted correctly in hesitating.
This is not a matter they can handle."
The report closed.
The surrounding space trembled faintly, as though something long dormant had begun to move.
"To appear just before the Grand Conference is no coincidence."
A pause.
"Something significant is about to occur."
Silence settled once more.
Nothing else was said.
Yet across the stellar cluster, protocols that had not been activated for millennia began to stir.
In sealed archives, dates engraved under ancient laws were altered for the first time.
Temporal seals weakened.
Within a sealed chamber, an order was issued without ceremony:
"The Grand Conference will be advanced."
Not by consensus.
Not by public warning.
But by necessity.
Invitations began to form ahead of time, crossing domains, hierarchies, and impossible distances. Some reached hands that were not ready to receive them.
Others reached hands that had never been summoned before.
The reason was not written.
It did not need to be.
Those who understood the weight of that decision all knew the same thing:
If events continued on their original course,
something would arrive first.
And this time,
the Stellar Domain would have no time to prepare.