The highway lay in tense silence, broken only by the low hum of engines and the anxious breaths of soldiers. A convoy of armored vehicles stood parked ahead, their bulky forms shielding the 50-odd soldiers crouched behind them. Each man and woman had their rifles trained forward, hands tight on their triggers, eyes locked on the three figures standing casually on the empty highway.
Seth sat slouched at Dravenor's side, still too shaken to rise. Relief bloomed faintly in his chest at the sight of the military backup—but his body refused to move, rooted by fear.
Dravenor, ever composed, let a smile curl on his lips. "Ah… What a warm welcome," he said, voice smooth as ever.
Oryssia perked up, rising from where she'd been lazily perched on a broken guardrail. "Finally! Something fun," she chirped, practically vibrating with anticipation.
From behind the line of armored cars, a smaller formation advanced. Not soldiers this time—no, this group carried themselves differently. Confident. Lethal. Leading them was a man whose very presence seemed to warp the air around him.
He walked with purpose, with a kind of untouchable grace. His hair was a wild cascade of fiery red, his eyes burning to match it. A crisp black formal shirt hugged his broad frame, tucked neatly into slim-cut dress pants. He looked less like a soldier and more like a noble about to attend a gala. But the energy radiating off him was anything but soft.
Seth's breath caught. His eyes widened, nearly brimming with tears. "Eric… Eric Vandercrest," he whispered. "They actually sent him…"
The legend himself. S-rank physical, A-rank magical. His lightning affinity alone was said to rival the wrath of storms. People didn't see Eric Vandercrest—they heard myths, campfire tales. And yet here he was, striding toward monsters with absolute composure.
Flanking him were members of the Vandercrest Guild—his elite circle. Seth recognized a few faces, notorious names whose power had reshaped cities during emergencies. Several were confirmed S-ranks.
Eric came to a stop a few paces from Dravenor, matching his height exactly. The air between them thickened.
Oryssia leaned over with a grin. "This one looks fun."
Eric ignored her, extending a hand with pristine etiquette. "Eric Vandercrest. I presume you're the one responsible for the dimensional rupture."
Dravenor returned the gesture without hesitation. "Dravenor. I am merely the herald. Here to prepare your world for Vornak's arrival."
Eric tilted his head slightly. "I don't know what that means," he said bluntly.
From the ground, Seth found his voice, shaky but urgent. "T-They're monsters! They came through the gate! They killed the last team of awakened!"
Eric's gaze flicked toward him, then back to Dravenor. "Is that true?"
Dravenor nodded with no trace of guilt. "I'm afraid the human speaks the truth."
Without another word, Eric's hand moved.
In a blur faster than most eyes could follow, he unsheathed his sword and swung directly at Dravenor's neck—silent, clean, deadly.
But the blade never reached its mark.
It halted inches from Dravenor's throat, held fast by a glimmering chain wrapped tightly around the edge.
Eric's eyes narrowed, following the chain's path to a dainty hand.
Oryssia stood a few paces away, holding the chain with a mischievous smile. "Oh, no no. You don't get to kill him yet. That's not your job."
Eric's jaw tensed. "Move, girl."
She tugged the chain playfully, letting it vanish from his sword. "Can I kill him now, Dravenor?" she asked sweetly.
Dravenor waved a hand, calm as ever. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Everyone… relax."
Eric sheathed his blade, but his eyes never left hers. "I'll talk with you after I kill the child."
Dravenor offered a light shrug. "Very well. I'll wait here."
Eric glanced over his shoulder. "No one interferes."
Some of his guild murmured protest, but he silenced them with a single raised hand.
Oryssia bounced on her heels, eyes alight. "Oooh, we're really doing this?"
"You will not survive this encounter," Eric warned, already entering a combat stance.
Dravenor's voice came again, soft but firm. "Oryssia. Do not kill him. Only demonstrate the gap."
She pouted. "Fiiine."
Eric narrowed his eyes. "Your confidence… will be your undoing."
Oryssia just giggled, chain dancing between her fingers like a pet snake waiting to strike.
The storm was about to break.