Relic Hunters: The Apex Predators

The Director walked into her living room and clicked on the light switch, illuminating a large chandelier that hung above a pure sheepskin rug. The two couches were beautiful, white faux leather, and a colossal bookcase covered the entire wall. The room was spotless; it looked like it could be featured in a house decorating magazine.

Dante cleaned daily to ensure everything was in order. The giant bookcase housed books that ranged from old war tactics to dusty how-to cooking manuals, all seemingly salvaged and partially damaged from the time and aftermath of World War IV. It was astonishing how many books he had collected, especially considering that most libraries were destroyed by bombs almost 250 years ago. Her eyes were drawn to the centerpiece of the room.

"I told you not to buy that damn thing five years ago, but now that I see it, it's growing on me," the Director said, walking toward the huge mosaic painting. The painting depicted a giant black wolf with glowing red eyes.

"That painting is called 'The Apex of Predators,'" Dante replied, pulling his shirt over his head.

The Director tilted her head to the side. "Please tell me you didn't name your unit after this cheesy painting," she said, obvious irritation in her voice.

Dante shrugged casually. "I thought it was a cool name when I was younger." The Director shook her head disapprovingly before walking back over to the kitchen. She sat down on a stool next to the counter. "So you mentioned something about making food?"

Dante moved into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and sifted through the pantry for ingredients. "How about omelets?" he suggested, cracking open a few eggs on the counter.

"Yeah, sure. I used to love when you would cook for me when you were staying with me, Danteveous," the Director said, watching him work with a grin on her face.

The Director took Dante in when his father sent him to the institute at the age of ten, without any resources. It was clear that the boy had been fending for himself long before arriving at the institute. He knew how to cook, clean, and take care of himself, which, although impressive for a child, was not ordinary for someone in his circumstances.

Dante was not an average child; his father was Jameson Elceed, the current head of the Round Table.

"So, why are you really here?" Dante asked as he diced onions and tomatoes into small squares.

"I know my omelets are good, and you say you miss my cooking. However, you only visit when something is wrong. So, what is it? Do you have a special mission for my Predator squad?"

The Director's melancholic expression shifted to a tense, serious one. "It's time, Dante," she said, her gaze intense.

"I'm not ready. My team isn't ready either. Besides, we've been doing just fine without any help," Dante replied nonchalantly, continuing to cut the excess vegetables.

"You must be a little confused, Danteveous. I am not making a request." The Director's eyes glowed a bright white once again as the intensity of her gaze deepened. She began lightly tapping the counter in front of her.

"I understand that, but I still must refuse. I can't do it, even if it's your command." Dante paused his vegetable chopping to meet her intense gaze. He knew firsthand what happened to anyone who disobeyed one of the Director's orders. He bore scars on his body that still ached when it rained, remnants of his disobedience as a child.

The Director's tapping quickened, causing the room to shake. Her fury was beginning to boil over. The books on the shelves, once neatly organized, started to tumble to the ground. The chandelier swung rapidly back and forth above them. If Dante's apartment weren't ten stories up, someone might mistake this for a minor earthquake or a major tremor.

"I expect your ass to report to the training grounds to meet your newest recruits. I won't entertain any more defiance. You keep pushing, and I will strip you of your rank as captain and give it to Alexander." She said slowly. The Director's words gave off a pressure that even Dante could not entirely resist.

"Alexander would never take my position. He loves me too much for that. And as much as Valerie nags, she would never follow another captain. So, respectfully..." Dante was cut off mid-sentence. To be more accurate, he couldn't find the words; it was as if they were suddenly trapped in his throat.

The Director was no longer seated in front of him. Dante swiveled his head, searching for her.

"My sweet Danteveous. I see you have already forgotten everything I taught you," the Director said, placing her arm around Dante's shoulder.

Her sudden touch made Dante feel like he wanted to jump out of his skin. For the first time in years, he felt fear—a fear that immobilized his body and sent signals of panic to his mind. His gut told him that he could seriously die if he wasn't careful; that the Director might actually kill him. Her presence had always been imposing, but the intensity of her killing intent felt terrifyingly real.

A killing intent so overwhelming that even seasoned and hardened contractors would be left shaking and crying for their mothers. Dante couldn't imagine the hardships she must have endured to emit such a powerful aura of menace. Growing up during the Dark Ages and playing a crucial role in the War of Ages undoubtedly shaped her. Director Michele raised him, and to the world, she is known as the most beautiful and benevolent contractor in all of New Roark. She is seen as the standard of kindness and strength, although she rarely revealed her true nature.

"Never forget the credo I've drilled into your mind and body," she said, sending chills down Dante's spine as he hung on her every word. "The strong dominate the weak, and the weak submit to the strong." She pronounced each syllable slowly, emphasizing their weight.

Dante's rational mind recognized that the person behind him was his mentor and one of the few parental figures he had ever known. However, his fear overpowered his rational thoughts, creating the illusion that a monster or demon lurked behind him—an unimaginable nightmare and hellish creature that he could not refuse. That was who the White Witch of the Apex Institute truly was beneath all the formalities and pleasantries.

He gritted his teeth in response. "Fine."

"Oh, great! I knew I could count on you, my lovely child. I am so proud of you. The fact that you remained standing while being so close to my aura shows you are definitely a candidate to be my successor," the Director said with a smile, kissing him on the forehead. "I know you are still grieving, but it's been three years. It's time to move forward. That's why I made you captain of your own unit. I believe working with a new team will be good for you." Her voice was soft and comforting.

Dante shook his head as he picked up his knife and began cutting the last bit of vegetables before placing them in the skillet.

"Did you want garlic and cheese in your omelet?" Dante asked, clearly avoiding her previous comment. The Director exhaled, realizing his response, and decided just this once not to push him any further.

"Yes, please. You treat me so well." A thought occurred to her as she was setting the table. "Hey, make two more omelets and put them in to-go boxes for me," she said, checking the time on her watch.

"What am I, a restaurant now?" Dante replied, cracking four more eggs against the counter.