CHAPTER 1466: ISOLATION

Two days later, Lydia and several other chosen ones boarded a luxurious bus bound for the place the senior healer had described as a sanctuary of purification before the Saintess’s blessing.

The vehicle itself was magnificent, gleaming white with gold trim, wide tinted windows, and seats so soft they seemed to swallow whoever sat in them.

Air-conditioning hummed gently, perfuming the cabin with faint hints of lavender. It was the kind of ride meant to soothe nerves and impress the passengers with the wealth and holiness of their destination.

For everyone else, it worked. Laughter filled the aisles as they exchanged jokes, sang cheerful hymns, and snapped playful remarks at one another.

Their voices mingled with the soft music playing overhead, a harmony of merriment that made the journey feel almost like a celebration.

Everyone except Lydia.

She sat rigid in her seat, unable to relax against the plush cushion. Her eyes kept darting to the window, tracking every street, every passerby, every turn the bus made.

At first, she found comfort in the familiar bustle of the city, the crowded markets, vendors shouting over one another, carriages and cars vying for space on the cobbled road. As long as they were among people, she could breathe.

But the moment the bus rolled past the last outpost of the city and the noise faded behind them, something inside her constricted. The scenery outside changed, houses became sparse, trees clustered closer, and shadows stretched longer. The road stretched endlessly into emptiness.

Lydia’s stomach tightened. A thin film of sweat dampened her palms. She rubbed them against her skirt, but the clammy feeling didn’t go away. The air-conditioning, once pleasantly cool, now felt suffocating. She shifted, trying not to fidget, trying not to draw attention.

Her friend Amy dozed peacefully at her side, head tilted against her shoulder, strands of hair swaying gently with the bus’s movement. Lydia stared at her for a long time, torn between pity and envy. How could she sleep so soundly when something felt so wrong?

The watch around Lydia’s wrist caught the dim light, the polished surface cool beneath her trembling fingers. She pressed it hard, knowing that as long as she had it, the Noxcra agent and her friends would be able to track her. She tries to keep herself composed, reminds herself how important this mission was and these people, she will save them from their dreadful fate.

But calm was slipping further out of reach with every mile they traveled into the unknown location. She leaned slightly toward the window, searching the road behind them, straining to catch a glimpse of another vehicle, anything that might be Jay and his team. But all she saw was a blur of dust and trees, the bus cutting deeper into the silence of the countryside.

And the more silence stretched, the louder her fear became.

Lydia didn’t notice the small drone gliding silently high above the sky. Its tiny red light blinked intermittently, a lone star against the blue, marking that it was tracking something.

Far behind the bus, in a sleek black car that blended easily with traffic, Jay sat in the passenger seat, his expression sharp and focused. His subordinate handled the wheel while Jay’s attention was fixed on the map glowing on his phone. A single red dot pulsed across the digital terrain, faithfully mirroring the bus’s route.

He tapped the earpiece in his ear.

"Owen, Dan—report. How’s the situation?"

Static crackled for a heartbeat, then a voice came through. From their vantage point on a hillside trail, two men had their eyes locked on the bus below. Perched on mountain bikes, Owen and Daniel blended into the rugged terrain, sweat glistening down their temples as they tracked every move of the convoy winding its way along the road.

"We’ve got three black vans flanking the bus," Owen reported evenly, binoculars raised to his eyes. "Two motorcycles at the front. Looks like a full escort."

Jay’s brows furrowed. "Good. Don’t lose sight of them."

Daniel, adjusting the small camera mounted on his helmet, added with quiet confidence, "We won’t."

From their vantage point on the hillside, the scene below looked deceptively calm, like a pilgrimage procession winding peacefully through the countryside. But Jay and his men knew better. Every vehicle in the convoy was a possible threat, every escort another obstacle to break through if things went wrong.

Lydia sat quietly, her fingers clenched tightly around her watch. Her nerves trembled with every mile, but outwardly she forced herself to remain composed, blending in with the other chosen ones who laughed and sang without a care.

In the trailing car, Jay’s eyes narrowed at the screen in his hand. He scrolled across the digital map, analyzing the terrain. The road ahead cut into a desolate stretch, far from villages or trade routes.

The closest settlement was still an hour away, empty land between here and there. Too empty. Which meant the convoy’s true destination was likely hidden somewhere along that stretch.

Jay’s jaw tightened. He tapped the side of his earpiece.

"Garrof, Fargo, sweep the area. Find me a vantage point and stay sharp."

Static buzzed briefly before Garrof’s voice answered, steady and low. "Already moving. We’ll find a place to dig in before they arrive."

Jay leaned back in his seat, gaze still locked on the pulsing red dot that represented Lydia’s bus.

The convoy crawled toward a wide area of luxurious villas on top of the hill, surrounded by a tall stone fence with only one way out.

When Lydia stepped off the bus, she froze. The villa before her was striking, modern, and grand, its walls clad in smooth white stone, the façade broken by sweeping panels of glass that shimmered in the sunlight. It looked more like an art piece than a home, minimalist yet commanding.

The others were buzzing with excitement, but Lydia’s attention was pulled backward. Her heart sank as a squad of armed men, and judging by their strange weapons, they were more likely a Dragxtarn, the soldier slowly shut the massive steel gates, the metal grinding closed with a weighty finality.

Lydia felt her heart sink into her stomach. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then turned her gaze toward the hill above, her expression unreadable.

"What are you thinking about, Jasmine? Let’s go in!" Amy chirped, throwing her arm around Lydia’s and tugging her toward the entrance, giddy with delight, "I heard they got a big swimming pool!"

"Uh... yeah." Lydia tries to mimic the same excitement as Amy.

Up on the steep hill, Garrof tracked her through binoculars. Behind him, bodies of soldiers lay sprawled across the ground, while Lloyd crouched among them, rifling through gear for anything suspicious.

Garrof touched his earpiece. "Cleaned up."

"Good," Jay’s voice answered. "How’s Lydia?"

"She just went inside."

"Okay. Keep eyes on her."

"Affirmative."

Moments later, engines rumbled as Daniel and Owen rode up, cutting their bikes and approaching with grim purpose. Without a word, Owen stepped beside Garrof, his eyes locked on the villa below, jaw tight, shoulders rigid, his face etched with worry.

Garrof gave him a firm pat on the back. "Don’t worry about her. She’s not alone."

I know..." Owen muttered, clenching his fist. "I just can’t help it."

Garrof’s gaze softened with understanding. Owen’s feelings for Lydia had long since grown beyond a fleeting crush.

After enduring life-and-death trials together, what began as a simple attraction had deepened into something real, and from the way Lydia behaved around him, she certainly didn’t seem opposed to the idea, even though, untill today, neither of them had ever made it official.

"I know what you’re feeling," Garrof said gently. "That’s why we give our best. Stay focused, and don’t make mistakes."

Owen drew a steadying breath, then nodded. "No mistakes."

Inside the villa, Lydia was once again assigned to share a room with Amy. As expected, the space was spacious and elegant, complete with a balcony, a wide bathroom fitted with both a shower and a deep bathtub. Two beds stood neatly made, along with a drawer and desk for each of them.

Amy grinned as she looked around. "This is just like a high-end hotel room!"

But Lydia noticed something Amy didn’t, the absence of a television screen, and more importantly, any sign of an internet connection. The realization struck her cold. This wasn’t luxury; it was isolation. A polished cage, cutting them off from their families, from the world.

"Jasmine, let’s go to the dining room! I heard they prepared all kinds of food to welcome us!" Amy’s face beamed with excitement.

Lydia shook her head. "No. I want to take a bath first. I’ll join you later."

"Alright, don’t take too long!" Amy chirped, already halfway out the door. She called back over her shoulder, her voice bubbling with energy: "I’ll see you there!"

"Yeah," Lydia replied, her tone flat and perfunctory. After that, a long silence permeated to the air.

The second the door clicked shut, Lydia’s composure shattered. She stumbled back and collapsed onto the bed, her hands trembling as they clawed at the sheets.

Her chest tightened, breath hitching, as if the air in the grand room had turned to stone. She buried her face in her palms, muffling the ragged sobs that tore their way out of her throat.

For so long she had held it in, through the bus ride, through the gates slamming shut, through Amy’s carefree chatter. But now the fear poured out of her in waves.

Her shoulders shook violently, her whole body curling inward as though she could make herself smaller, invisible. The villa’s polished walls seemed to close in on her, gleaming white stone turning into bars.

Here, alone, there was no mask to wear, no one to fool. Only the truth: she was terrified.