Chapter 236: Last goodbye

Inside his cabin, Commander James Maddox sat back in a plush leather seat, staring out into the city covered with mist, with a quiet, heavy frown. The meeting with Walter Bigiva and the Central Continent’s National Exterminator Agency had concluded yesterday, but the sour, metallic taste of unease had not left his mouth.

Something was deeply wrong with the upcoming World Exterminator Ranking Tournament.

Maddox had spent two centuries observing global politics, watching empires rise, fracture, and rebuild in the wake of gate breaks. He knew what standard administrative preparations looked like for international athletic and tactical exhibitions. But what he had witnessed in the Central Continent wasn’t preparation for a tournament.

It was preparation for a war.

The rosters being submitted by the International Corporation and the foreign syndicates were abnormal. Instead of fielding their most promising young prodigies and honorable academy graduates, they were assembling squads of hardened killers and unhinged butchers.

Most alarming of all was Julian.

Julian was a newly appointed S-Rank Commander within the Central NEA—a man of immense political capital, unfathomable personal wealth, and terrifying power. Yet, he had abruptly resigned from his prestigious post, abandoning his command solely to register as a combatant in the tournament’s open bracket. S-Rank titans did not step down from executive chairs to brawl with rookies for petty fame. Julian was hunting something. Or someone.

A sharp pang of guilt tightened in Maddox’s chest.

’I pushed the boy into this meat grinder,’ Maddox thought, his jaw clenching as he rubbed his temples.

To secure Hide Volter’s cooperation and keep him from walking away as an unmonitored rogue, Maddox had offered him a high-stakes bargain: place in the Top 10 of the World Tournament, and the classified NEA files regarding his mother’s murder would be handed over. Hide, desperate for answers about Erin, had accepted without hesitation. Maddox had left the boy with virtually no choice. If the tournament devolved into the bloodbath Maddox suspected, Hide would be walking straight into an ambush.

’Was it a mistake?’ Maddox wondered, looking at his reflection in the dark glass. ’Erin... did I just set your son up for slaughter?’

The office was empty and silent, illuminated only by the faint orange glow of the setting sun filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Maddox pulled out his black communicator, dialing a familiar private number.

The line connected on the very first ring.

"Sir," Claire’s voice sounded through the speaker.

Curiously, the exact same word echoed not just through the small audio receiver in his hand, but from the open doorway of his office.

Maddox blinked, lowering the communicator as he looked up.

Standing in the doorway, pocketing her own device with a casual flick of her wrist, was Major Claire.

Maddox’s tired eyes softened, a faint smile breaking across his youthful face.

Claire wasn’t wearing her pristine white Exterminator uniform or her standard black combat armor. Instead, she wore a simple oversized grey knit sweater, fitted dark jeans, and low-profile boots. Her brilliant, long golden-blonde hair was tied up into a loose, slightly messy ponytail, letting a few stray strands frame her sharp, striking face. Her crimson eyes looked unusually relaxed, completely devoid of their usual intensity.

"How come you’re not in your duty clothes, Major?" Maddox asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow with an amused grin.

"Do you want me to work myself to death, old man?" Claire replied flatly, rolling her eyes as she strolled into the room.

"Haha, no, no," Maddox chuckled, leaning back in his leather chair. "It’s good seeing you actually enjoy yourself for once."

"Very funny," she scoffed.

Finding the office empty of staff and assistants, she walked over to the chair across from Maddox, slumped down into the cushion, and leaned her upper body over the polished mahogany desk, resting her cheek against her crossed arms with an exhausted groan.

Maddox watched her with quiet affection. Reaching across the desk, he gently ruffled the top of her blonde hair, messing up her bangs.

"Where are you coming from looking so thoroughly drained?" he asked softly.

Claire swatted his hand away with a half-hearted scowl. "I am not a child anymore, you know! I haven’t been for like ten years now!" She buried her face into her sleeves and let out a long, tragic sigh. "Another failed date."

Maddox’s playful expression shifted instantly. He froze mid-motion, let out a dry, slightly uncomfortable cough, and sat straight back in his chair.

"A date?" Maddox echoed, his tone suddenly protective and deeply analytical. "What kind of person was this guy?"

"Just a grumpy guy who asked me out a few days ago at a cafe," Claire mumbled, turning her head to look at him sideways. "Oh, and he wasn’t an Exterminator. Just a baseline civilian."

"A civilian asking out an A-Rank Exterminator who can snap steel with her bare hands?" Maddox shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle. "Pretty bold, I would say. Either he had immense courage or an absolute lack of basic survival instincts."

He paused, studying her tired expression for a few quiet seconds. A soft, fatherly warmth settled over his eyes.

"Look... if you genuinely want to marry someone, just say the word," Maddox sighed, shaking his head with a wistful smile. "I will scour the five continents and find someone suitable. A decent man who won’t crumble under pressure."

Claire snorted, pushing herself up from the desk. "Please, spare me your bureaucratic matchmaking. The last thing I need is you interviewing my suitors like they’re applying for clearance tier."

"I would only ask thirty or forty background questions," Maddox replied innocently.

"That’s exactly what terrifies me," she deadpanned.

They sat in comfortable silence for a brief moment, the warmth of the room a stark contrast to the cold, hostile world waiting beyond the glass.

To the world, Claire was simply one of Commander Maddox’s finest disciples—a brilliant, fiercely loyal protégé whom he had trained since childhood. But the truth ran far deeper. Sixteen years ago, Maddox had personally pulled her out of the blood and ash of that horrific 5-Star Dungeon Break on the Eastern Continent, the sole surviving toddler of an annihilated city. He had taken her in, fed her, and raised her as his own daughter.

Yet, Maddox had never allowed her to take the surname ’Maddox’.

It wasn’t out of coldness or detachment. It was born of absolute, paralyzing fear.

Over his two hundred years of living, Maddox had watched every single person he loved get targeted, hunted, and murdered by Calamity Lords, rogue syndicates, and political conspirators. Carrying his name was a death sentence. He kept her officially registered as ’Claire V. Bronn’ to give her a shield of administrative obscurity—praying every day that she would outlive his endless, cursed lifespan and find a peaceful life away from his shadow.

Claire stood up from the chair, stretching her arms above her head. "I’m going to get some rest. We have training briefings tomorrow."

Maddox stood up as well, walking around the desk. He reached out and gave her head a gentle, reassuring pat.

"Be careful out there, Claire," Maddox said softly, his voice dropping into a solemn, earnest tone. "The world is shifting. Do not make hasty decisions, and do not trust the smiles of people in the capital."

Claire looked at his boyish face, her crimson eyes softening with a heavy, quiet ache. Throughout her life, the rigid walls of military hierarchy and his legendary status had often forced her to treat him primarily as ’The Commander’. But in moments like these, she felt the undeniable, unconditional love of a father.

"I know," Claire whispered softly. "I’ll be careful. Goodnight, Commander."

She turned and walked out of the office, the heavy double doors hissing shut behind her.

Left entirely alone once more, Maddox let out a slow breath and walked back to his desk. The tender, domestic warmth in the room vanished, replaced by an iron-clad resolve.

If the World Tournament was going to be a warzone, he would not send his students in unprepared. He had to forge a specialized squad around Hide Volter—a core unit capable of watching each other’s backs and surviving the deadliest ambushes.

Maddox activated his master terminal, pulling up the confidential personnel files of the academy’s top rookies.

With decisive strokes, he selected four names:

Hide Volter,Sora Maddox,Gideon Vance,Ryan.

’I will train them myself,’ Maddox resolved, locking the roster into the system. ’For the next two months, I will personally push them past their limits. If they are going into hell, they will enter it as monsters.’

Maddox finalized the schedule, closed the interface, and picked up his communicator to contact the four trainees to inform them of their mandatory deployment to the training sector at dawn.

Before his finger could press the screen, the communicator violently vibrated in his palm.

BZZZZT! BZZZZT! BZZZZT!

The display flashed with a blinding, crimson emergency code that bypassed all standard firewalls.

Maddox’s breath hitched. Watchtower Eight—the classified laboratory where the preserved Calamity Lords and artificial biological specimens were housed.

He accepted the call immediately, slamming the communicator against his ear.

"Report!" Maddox barked.

The speaker didn’t reply. Instead, an ear-splitting, blood-curdling chorus of human screams tore through the receiver—accompanied by the deafening screech of ripping titanium, shattering glass, and the horrific, wet tearing of flesh.

"COMMANDER! HELP US—!" a ragged, hysterical voice shrieked over the line. It was the lead geneticist, Professor Aris, coughing violently as alarms blared in the background. "THE CONTAINMENT SEALS ARE SHATTERED! THE SPECIMENS... HAVE AWAKENED! "

CRUNCH!

A sickening, wet impact cut the professor off mid-sentence, followed by the deep, terrifying roar of an ancient beast echoing from the depths of the earth.

The line went dead.

Maddox stood frozen in the dark office, the disconnected dial tone buzzing in his ear, his brown eyes widening into cold, horrified circles as the true storm finally made landfall.