UNMASKED

CHAPTER 12

THIRD PERSON'S POV

"Gotcha. I found the location of the White Monarchy," one of the Elders announced, his voice echoing through the cold, sterile command room. He slid a screen forward, showing Ice and Claire the coordinates.

"The enemy's are already in the area. We shouldn’t waste any time, or they might escape. Blow up their entire headquarters," the First Elder commanded, his eyes glinting with malice. "Demon’s fall has begun, and I want to see it."

Ice narrowed his eyes but said nothing, his mind working through the implications. Claire, standing beside him, stared at the flashing map, her jaw clenched.

“What’s your plan?” Ice asked, his voice steady, despite the tension growing in the room.

“I’m going to their headquarters,” the First Elder responded without hesitation, his expression taut with anticipation. “I won’t wait another second.”

He turned sharply, striding toward the door, signaling to his underlings to follow. “Surround the area with bombs. I’m eager to see the look on Demon’s face when the walls close in on her.”

Meanwhile, Demon, unaware of the Elder’s movements, was heading to the same headquarters. Her recent fight with her copies had left her battered. She didn’t feel pain—not the kind that slowed her down—but the dizziness from blood loss was overwhelming. Her vision swam, and her body screamed for rest. But she couldn’t stop now.

Her breath was ragged, but she pushed forward, forcing herself to stay hidden in the shadows, avoiding the copies and any potential threats.

Suddenly, the screen in front of her flickered to life. The image of the headquarters appeared, and with it, the mocking face of the First Elder.

"Hi, Demon," he greeted, his voice dripping with venom. "If you’re watching, does this place look familiar to you?" The screen shifted, showing a place that was once her refuge—a place she had tried to forget.

Demon’s breath hitched, and her hands trembled as the memories crashed in, like a flood that could never be contained.

"Don’t," she muttered, her voice barely a whisper, the weight of her past catching up with her.

---

"How did the Elder find the headquarters?" Salvador asked, his brow furrowing as he and Vladimir observed the unfolding chaos on the screen.

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Vladimir replied coldly, his gaze still fixed on the screen. "What matters is that we defeat Demon physically while the Elder toys with her emotions."

Before Vladimir could take another step, a sharp whistle cut through the air. Without warning, a blazing arrow shot past them, grazing Vladimir’s cheek. They both turned in time to see a figure approaching at an almost unnatural speed—a blur of movement.

Before either could react, the figure was upon them. A lightning-fast strike sent both Vladimir and Salvador stumbling back, barely managing to dodge the force of the attack.

"Nothing’s changed. You’re still weak," came Caleb’s voice, dripping with disdain.

Salvador’s eyes widened, his heart pounding in shock. "Caleb?"

The once-loyal Mask stood before them, his eyes wild with fury. His presence sent a jolt through Vladimir. Caleb was back, but he was different—worse. His face was twisted with rage, and his every movement was charged with an intensity that Vladimir couldn’t ignore.

"You killed Luci!" Vladimir hissed, his fists clenching at his sides, ready to fight.

Caleb's lips curled into a bitter, venomous smile. "Oh, so now you’re finally angry?" His voice was thick with contempt. "You let Eli die, Vladimir. You let my sister die."