The First Men Chronicles

Chapter 35: The Serpent's Awakening

The atmosphere inside the Washington Hunter Association Headquarters was tense. Marcus, still covered in the dust and smoke from the ruins of the research base, stood in front of President Cecelia, his fists clenched at his sides. The air was heavy with frustration, anger, and the implications of the disaster that had just unfolded.

"This is an international embarrassment," Cecelia said, her cold blue eyes narrowing as she processed the full scope of what had happened. "The hybrid was stolen right from under us, our people massacred, and now The Ten have access to power beyond comprehension."

Marcus ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. "It's more than that. If The Ten really plan on going after all five Hybrids… we need to be ready for global catastrophe. If they succeed, we might as well kiss this world goodbye."

Cecelia remained silent for a moment, weighing the situation. Then she made a decision. "We need to alert our closest allied nation about this. If The Ten are moving at this scale, we can't handle this alone."

Just then, the large mahogany doors to her office swung open. Semyon, another SS-ranked Hunter, stepped inside. His broad shoulders and imposing presence made even Marcus tense up slightly.

"I already received the report," Semyon said as he walked in, his voice sharp and cold. "And I'll tell you exactly who's responsible for this. The Seoul Hunter Association."

Cecelia exhaled through her nose, already anticipating his anger. "Semyon, we don't have proof that the Seoul Association is behind this."

"Don't we?" Semyon's eyes were like steel. "Who created The Ten? Where did they originate? Seoul And now their little creation is tearing through nations, stealing god-tier power. If anyone should be held responsible, it's them."

Cecelia held up a hand, calming the room. "I understand your grief over Quag's death. But anger won't fix this. We need to take the proper steps first."

Without hesitation, she reached for her secure line and dialed a direct number to Seoul Hunter Association Headquarters.

Marcus raised a brow. "Who are you calling?"

"President Bartoni."

The call rang twice… then failed.

She redialed. Another failure.

Cecelia frowned, her fingers tapping impatiently on her desk. She tried one last time, and this time, the call redirected—not to Bartoni, but to Neo's office.

Back in Korea, Neo picked up the call, his voice sharp.

"This is Neo."

The morning sun rose over The Ten's hidden base, casting long shadows across the rugged terrain. Draven, still recovering from the previous day's battle, stepped out of his tent, his mind troubled. Despite his victory over Quag, he knew he had barely scratched the full potential of his abilities. His All Creation Eyes were powerful—but they were also consuming him.

He made his way toward the training grounds, where Huey was waiting, sitting casually on a twisted wooden throne made from his own roots.

"You're up early," Huey greeted with his usual playful grin. "Good. That means you're ready."

Draven stopped a few feet away. "You said you had something for me."

Huey clapped his hands together. "Ah, yes. A little… gift."

A large, ancient jar materialized beside him. The glass surface was blackened, filled with blood-red liquid, and inside, severed serpent heads floated—each with fangs bared, their lifeless eyes frozen in rage.

"This," Huey said, placing a hand on the jar, "is an Ancient Cursed Secret Art known as Serpent Manipulation. Few who drink it ever survive. But if you do… you'll gain the power of the serpent, a force that will increase your Shen, enhance your body, and unlock abilities beyond what you think is possible."

Draven eyed the jar suspiciously. "Sounds like poison."

Huey let out a loud laugh. "That's because it is poison! And yet… it's also power."

He leaned forward, his golden eyes gleaming. "It's a gamble, Draven. Only a select few have been able to harness this power. One of them was Lord Arcade himself."

Draven's fingers tightened into fists at the mention of the name.

"Will you take the risk?" Huey taunted. "Or will you let the ghosts of your past keep you weak?"

Draven didn't hesitate. He grabbed the jar, uncorked it, and drank the entire thing in one go.

Huey raised a brow, watching as Draven drained the entire cursed concoction without so much as a flinch. "Well… that was fast."

Draven wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Is that it?"

Huey smirked. "Not quite."

Draven took one step forward—then his entire body seized up. His vision blurred, his breathing became shallow, and a burning sensation crawled through his veins like fire. His hands clawed at his chest, his mind spiraling into darkness.

Huey casually crossed his arms. "Ah, there it is. The real fun begins."

Draven collapsed to the ground. His surroundings melted away, and suddenly, he was somewhere else.

A new realm.

The sky above him was a swirling abyss of black and gold, shifting like a storm trapped in time. The air was thick, oppressive, and carried the stench of blood and rot. The ground beneath his feet wasn't solid—it was like pulsing flesh, moving beneath him as though alive.

And then… it came.

A massive serpent, larger than any beast he had ever seen, slowly coiled its monstrous body into view. Its scales shimmered like liquid metal, reflecting the storm above. Fangs the size of swords dripped with venom. Its golden eyes, void of pupils, locked onto Draven like a predator ready to devour its prey.

The beast spoke, its voice a guttural, ancient whisper that crawled into Draven's skull.

"Who dares to summon the blood of the Serpent King?"

Draven's breathing steadied. His fists clenched.