I Became The Novel's Biggest Antagonist - Chapter 85

Chapter 85: Elites of The Order

The World Order Agency was an inter-world organization, wielding unparalleled influence across two dimensions. Tasked with overseeing the delicate balance between two worlds, it operated as a beacon of authority and order, maintaining peace in both New Earth and the world of Arcadia.

Its daily operations revolved around addressing supernatural phenomena and possession cases that arose across these two vastly different worlds. In this way, the Agency bore some resemblance to the Council for Paranormal Cases, where Erika Meyer served. However, while the Council restricted its focus to maintaining safety exclusively within Arcadia’s borders, the World Order Agency cast a much wider net.

The Agency’s main responsibility lay in safeguarding New Earth, a serene and modern world resembling the Earth of old, where most of the population dismissed the concept of exorcisms as mere superstition. In fact, a staggering 95% of its inhabitants were oblivious to the existence of Arcadia altogether. They went about their lives, consumed by the humdrum concerns of their daily routines, blissfully unaware of the supernatural forces that lurked beyond their understanding. The World Order Agency worked tirelessly behind the scenes to ensure that Arcadia’s chaos did not seep into the peaceful world of New Earth.

Although its main focus was the protection of New Earth, the Agency occasionally dispatched its agents to Arcadia in response to extraordinary circumstances. One such mission had involved Krainel Salvador, a former elite member of the Agency who betrayed them by stealing Asmodeus’ Book, a powerful and dangerous Devil’s Artifact. Salvador had fled to Arcadia, forcing the World Order to pursue him to Arcadia in a high-stakes operation.

For the most part, however, the Agency’s work remained rooted in New Earth. When possession cases or signs of supernatural activity surfaced, they acted swiftly and covertly, containing the threat before it spiraled into a public spectacle. A single unchecked incident could disrupt the fragile peace, risk exposure of Arcadia’s existence, and plunge entire cities into chaos.

From the perspective of New Earth’s citizens, the World Order Agency appeared to be just another government law enforcement body, their true purpose hidden behind a veil of secrecy. Yet, to the residents of Arcadia, the Agency represented the ultimate authority—a massive, far-reaching organization tasked with upholding the precarious balance between the two worlds.

***

Paris, France

Main Headquarters of the World Order Agency

In the heart of Paris, a great rectangular edifice dominated a sprawling campus that resembled a hybrid of a state-of-the-art laboratory and a fortress of innovation. For Parisians, this structure was impossible to overlook unless one were truly blind.

The complex comprised five massive buildings, each large enough to accommodate over two thousand personnel—the approximate number of operatives and staff stationed there. Four of the buildings were interconnected in a rectangular formation, while the central tower rose like a sentinel, the nerve center of operations. Within its fortified walls, all information passed through meticulous filtration, accessible only to the Agency’s elite and its highest-ranking leaders.

Inside, the architecture quite a beauty. Expansive halls and labyrinthine corridors sprawled in every direction, with staircases branching upwards like arteries feeding the monumental structure. White dominated the color palette—a reflection of the World Order Agency’s theme. This pristine hue extended to the uniforms of the agents, each adorned with the Agency’s emblem: two worlds merging, a symbol emblazoned prominently on the chest and arm.

The agents themselves were a diverse cadre of specialists. While not all were tasked with the dangerous duty of subduing Demons, every member was a master of intellect and skill, selected through a grueling and highly competitive process.

From the central tower’s gleaming glass windows, clusters of agents could be seen moving with tasks ahead, either alone or in groups, engaging in animated discussions. Most carried cutting-edge tablets, some in their hands, others clipped securely to their waists.

The halls and corridors buzzed with activity. Large digital screens were mounted throughout, broadcasting real-time updates on supernatural occurrences across both New Earth and Arcadia. The air was charged with the hum of efficiency, and the pristine glass-and-steel staircases seemed to stretch endlessly skyward, providing ample opportunity for those who preferred walking to ascend the building’s staggering 50 floors.

Elevators, of course, were available for the practical-minded, but taking the stairs beyond the tenth floor was often viewed as the domain of the eccentric—or the masochistic.

Among the stair-climbers that day was one such figure—a woman who drew every gaze as she ascended with unhurried elegance.

Her beauty was otherworldly, almost ethereal. Silver-grey hair cascaded down her back, tied neatly to highlight her striking features. Her crimson eyes shimmered beautifully as well giving her an origin from likely Arcadia. She was, without a doubt, one of the most breathtaking individuals on both New Earth and Arcadia.

Clad in the standard white uniform, hers was tailored with a subtle grace that accentuated her aura. The long skirt of her attire swayed lightly as she moved, her steps echoing rhythmically in the stairwell. Despite the mundane setting, her presence was too attracting, taking attention from every agent she passed.

She ascended the stairs with her usual aloof demeanor.

“It’s Miss Lunevy!”

“She’s so beautiful!”

“Do you think she’d let me take a picture with her?”

“She’s one of the Order’s Elites. I doubt she even has time for something like that.”

The agents could only admire her from afar, captivated by Luna-Evelyn’s presence and grace.

If they had known her destination was the 45th floor—on foot—they would have been utterly dumbfounded. Few could understand voluntarily tackling such a climb. But for Luna-Evelyn, it was a necessity, even if it seemed eccentric to others.

She had tried the elevators before, but the experience left her deeply uncomfortable. With the overwhelming number of agents working in the headquarters, the elevators were perpetually crowded. For someone of her status, heading to the higher floors often meant enduring long minutes confined in a cramped space. Fans would chatter excitedly, some whispering about her, others sneaking pictures, and a few bold enough to pepper her with personal questions. The ordeal was far from pleasant.

Since then, she had resolved to take the stairs no matter the inconvenience. While the climb was undeniably tedious, it was far less aggravating than enduring the adulation of overzealous admirers. Besides, fatigue wasn’t an issue for her—she could ascend all 50 floors without breaking a sweat.

Today, like any other, Luna-Evelyn was hard at work. As a member of the Order’s Elite, and one of its finest, her schedule rarely afforded her rest. She could request time off, of course, but the truth was, she didn’t want it. Her work had long since become her life.

When she finally reached the 45th floor, she was greeted by the faint murmur of agents whispering among themselves. The moment they noticed her, their conversation ceased, and a hush fell over the hall.

Eyes followed her every step as the agents instinctively parted to clear her path. Luna-Evelyn paid them no mind, her ruby eyes fixed ahead as she strode toward the meeting room at the end of the corridor.

Reaching the door, she grasped the knob and stepped inside.

The room was already filled, its occupants seated around a large oval-shaped table. All eyes turned toward her as the door closed softly behind her. She was late—a not-so rare occurrence for her.

Not bothered by the looks, Luna-Evelyn walked across the room taking the lone empty seat at the table.

“You’re late again, Miss Luna Evelyn Salvador. It seems you’ve decided to take your duties as a member of the Elite Order far too casually. This is precisely why I advised against granting such a status to an inexperienced brat.”

The reprimand came quickly. Lunevy turned her gaze to meet the speaker, her expression turning frosty at how he called her.

Sitting before her was Sergius Rudenval, a man of stern demeanor. He appeared to be in his late thirties, with neatly slicked-back gray hair. His uniform matched hers in its white trim, save for the embroidery that marked his status as a senior member of the Elite Order. His dark eyes bore into her, nearly in disdain.

“Now, now, Mr. Rudenval. You shouldn’t bully a lady as lovely as Miss Salvador,” drawled a warm voice. The source was a young man lounging nearby with quite a charm. His golden-blond hair caught the light as he brushed it back, flashing a smile that could disarm armies of women.

It was Riccardo Fontana, the Elite Order’s Italian prodigy. Despite his youth—he was only in his mid-twenties—he carried the reputation of Italy’s brightest and most gifted talent in decades.

“Give it a rest, Fontana,” came a rougher voice from a few seats away, followed by a low laugh.

The man speaking was older, perhaps by a few years, and carried himself with a warrior’s status. His brown hair was tied back neatly, and his sharp, angular features gave him an intense presence. His well-toned frame and the way he leaned forward spoke of someone with quite a fierce personality.

It was Oliver Marshall, a distinguished Elite member hailing from the British branch of the World Order.

Meanwhile, a fourth figure sat apart from the banter, entirely unbothered by the growing commotion. She appeared to be in her mid-twenties as well.

Golden-rimmed glasses framed her eyes, which were currently fixed on the book she held with delicate hands. Her auburn hair was swept into a meticulous bun, along her posture, she seemed quite elegant.

She was Louise Rigal, an Elite Order member of the French branch much like Sergius Rudenval.

The room held a long table surrounded by twelve chairs, though most sat vacant. It was a space designed for important meetings between Elite Order members.

The atmosphere quieted after a few lingering moments, as Louise reached the end of her page. With a slow motion, she closed the book, her slender fingers briefly brushing the gilded edges.

Her gaze finally lifted, meeting her colleagues.

“Everyone is here.” She placed the book neatly on the table before continuing, “Let’s begin then.”