All Chapters of LUCAN VALE: THE GHOST ASSASSIN: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

After leaving Kairos's office, Jason returned to the hangar where his jet awaited his arrival. By then, Silas had found and fixed the issue Jason had caused. Although Silas had no idea that Jason had created the issue, he believed it was natural.The plane's door hissed shut, sealing him inside the quiet, luxurious cabin. Jason sank into the soft leather seat, the adrenaline from his indirect confrontation with Kairos leaving a hollow ache behind. Outside, the camouflaged hangars and forested perimeter of The Fulcrum slid past as the jet sped toward the runway.Jason's mind replayed the meeting. He couldn't tell, really. Part of him felt Kairos had been genuine, telling the truth. But most of the time, he sensed a masterful performance from Kairos, the paternal concern, the feigned shock, the carefully crafted story painting Klaus and Jagua as villains.Right now he didn't want to spend too much time thinking about who the villain was here. Because, either way, Jason would find answe

He folded the map carefully, his priority now was exploring these buildings, searching for anything that could tell him who the Caelthorns really were, and if he was truly one of them.He had to know.Fast forward a few minutes later, Jasone chose the largest, most central building in front of him, what looked like the main residence, and then he approached cautiously. The grandness of it was still visible despite the decay: stone archways, tall leaded-glass windows, many now broken or boarded, intricate carvings half-hidden by ivy.He found a side entrance. A heavy oak door, warped by time and salt air, but surprisingly unlocked.He pushed it open. The door made a groaning noise as it opened, clearly for the first time in a long time,perhaps after decades of silence. Jason stepped inside, leaving the grey, windswept island behind, and was immediately enveloped by thick, still air. Specks of dust infected the air, floating lazily in weak shafts of light piercing grimy windows. The

He stared fixedly at the red icon representing Lucan Vale, which stubbornly showed a course far south of Caelthorn Island.The deviation lacked sense, unreported, and deeply unsettling. However what gave him a peace of mind was that Jason had said something about it malfunctioning. Still, he wanted it to get fixed so that he can continue tracking Jason's movements. "What seems to be the issue, Specialist?" Kairos asked, his voice quiet but loud in the silence of the room. "It's been fifteen minutes. Has the device malfunctioned?""It's what I'm trying to find out now, Grandmaster," The specialist replied without looking up, his attention fully absorbed by the complex data streams. "Signal transmission is stable, no hardware failure flags... running deeper diagnostics on the positional data packets now."Kairos remained silent, but his stillness was tense. Lucan should have already arrived at the island, grabbed the dagger and on his way back by now, or at least if there was any furth

The photo album lay open on the chaise lounge where it had slipped from Jason's hands. He could barely believe that this was real at all. He stood still, staring at the family portrait hanging across the cavernous boathouse. Brandon Caelthorn. The name sat heavy in his mind. But it was real in a way that Lucan Vale and Jason Wolfe had never quite been. Those identities were now feeling like clothes he wore. They were functional, familiar, but not quite his own. This was different.He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. The anger was there, boiling beneath the surface, but it wasn't the wild, burning kind. It was cold. Methodical. The kind he'd been trained to use.Kairos had lied to him. For twenty-five years, the man who raised him, trained him, called him 'son' had built Jason's entire existence on top of someone else's grave. His grave, technically. Brandon Caelthorn's grave, and even more sad, possibly his whole family's grave. And it made perfect sense. Brandon C

Jason circled the pedestal, studying it from all angles. He could see faint marks on the stone around the dagger's base, and a few discarded, high-tech cutting tools lay nearby, clearly broken or melted, evidence that others had tried, and failed, to move it.So Kairos had sent people before. Or someone else had. People with equipment, with technology, with the resources to try and extract the dagger by force.And they'd all failed.He reached out slowly, his gloved fingers hovering just above the intricately carved hilt. He hesitated, then tried to grip it through the glove. Nothing. The dagger didn't budge, didn't even shift. It felt like trying to move a mountain.When he tried picking it up along with the stone, it was simply too heavy he couldn't even move it. It was strange to Jason, seeing as the stone looked small enough to be carried along with the dagger. Hell, it could fit in his bag. The pedestal wasn't massive, maybe a foot across. But when he tried to lift it, it felt l