Genetic Broken Uprising

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|  Rampage  |
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"Why them?" Khaotung inquired, seeking to uncover the rationale behind targeting the King's sons.

The woman fixed her eyes upon Khaotung. There was an edge to her expression, a silent reprimand for his impertinence. "When did you become so bold to talk back?" she retorted, her voice as piercing as the look she gave. It was a question laced with both surprise and a hint of disdain, as though Khaotung had crossed an invisible boundary of authority.

Beside him, Cooheart shifted uneasily, offering a warning that danced on the edge of urgency in his tone, "Khaotung." Yet, Khaotung's resolve was unyielding. The initial flash of curiosity in his eyes made way for a stubborn insistence.

Khaotung met their scrutiny with unwavering confidence, his gaze traveling between the woman and the man as if challenging the very foundation of their authority. "The question you should be asking is why am I questioning you now when I never have questioned you before," he pronounced, his tone a mixture of curiosity and aloofness. His words were a calculated maneuver, suggesting that his newfound inquisitiveness was not an act of rebellion but a reflection of a deeper, perhaps troubling, change in the dynamics at play.

"What exactly do we gain for killing nobility?" inquired a voice from the shadowed corner, a touch of skepticism threading its way through the otherwise resolute atmosphere.

The question hung in the air like a challenge, met swiftly by another's concern. "Wouldn't that just piss off the king?" someone else interjected, the nervousness in their tone betraying the apprehension that simmered beneath their words. The notion of provoking the king seemed reckless, inviting chaos into an already precarious situation.

"We ourselves don't know the full reason behind this hit," he began, his voice steady, grounding the room. "But we, as assassins, never question our higher order." His statement was delivered with an unwavering conviction, a reminder of the hierarchy that governed their world—where obedience trumped understanding.

As the words settled, the room hummed with a mix of acceptance and unspoken hesitancy. The older man's gaze flickered to Cooheart, an unspoken request punctuating the moment. "Cooheart," he called, his voice cutting through the ambient whispers. It was a summons with an air of inevitability.

Cooheart, feeling the weight of expectation pressing against them, met the man's gaze. Despite the lack of explicit agreement, Cooheart understood the silent demand for discretion. "A word with you in private?" He inquired—though his tone left little room for the notion that it was indeed a question.

It bore the weight of an order disguised as a request, a command wrapped in politeness, and before Cooheart could fully formulate a response, he and his wife turned and began to make their way toward the exit. Their movements were seamless and synchronized, conveying a unified front that brooked no hesitation.

Cooheart sighed before turning his head slightly, casting a glance over his shoulder towards his friends, who remained rooted in their spot, allowing his eyes to convey a silent message of reassurance and determination before turning to follow the leaders out of the room.

"Jeff." The name slipped from Nunew's lips, a soft whisper that barely cut through the ambient noise of conversation swirling around them. The moment Jeff heard his name, a spark of alertness ignited in his chest. He turned towards Nunew, their eyes locking in a silent exchange that spoke volumes. In that instant, the bustling atmosphere faded into the background as the world narrowed down to just the two of them.

Nunew subtly nodded towards Aou and with a slight jerk of his head towards the nearest double doors, Nunew indicated the path they needed to take—an exit that whispered of haste and necessity.