Lucien didn't get the chance to respond.
—
A hand landed on his head.
Firm.
Grounding.
—
He stiffened.
Then looked up.
—
His sister stood beside him.
Calm.
Unshaken.
—
"…That's enough," she said quietly.
—
No anger.
No tension.
—
Just decision.
—
She didn't wait for a reply.
Didn't argue further.
—
She simply moved.
—
Walking past the tension.
Past the silence.
—
Straight toward Draven.
—
Lucien followed instinctively.
Still tense.
Still unsettled.
—
Tharic hesitated—
then followed as well.
—
Because staying behind now—
—
wasn't an option.
—
She stopped a few steps in front of Draven.
—
"…Sir."
—
Draven's crimson eyes shifted.
Slow.
—
Landing on her.
—
She didn't falter.
—
"…Would you oppose it," she asked calmly, "…if we formed another team?"
—
Silence.
—
Draven stared at her.
—
One second.
Two.
—
Then—
"…Do whatever you want."
Flat.
—
No resistance.
No interest.
—
"…I only gave you the token to confirm something."
A pause.
—
"…What you do after that doesn't matter to me."
—
His gaze flicked briefly.
—
To Lucien.
—
Cold.
Measured.
—
"…But you—"
—
Lucien stiffened slightly.
—
"…don't go anywhere," Draven continued, voice low. "…not until I get confirmation the airship is where you said it is."
—
A beat.
—
"…The rest of you can do whatever the hell you want."
—
Silence followed.
—
Lucien swallowed.
—
His sister nodded once.
Calm as ever.
"…Yes, sir."
—
Then she turned.
—
Back to the others.
—
"…That settles it," she said, voice steady, decisive.
—
Her eyes moved across them, already organizing, already calculating.
—
"…Lucien. Tharic. And him—" a brief glance toward Draven acknowledged him without expecting cooperation, "…you'll form your own team and find two more."
—
A shift.
—
Then her gaze moved.
—
To Seryna.
To Kaelira.
—
"…The three of us will find two others."
—
Seryna nodded immediately.
Composed.
Certain.
"…She's right."
—
Her eyes swept the battlefield again, analytical and sharp.
—
"…With three of us having mana," she continued calmly, "…even if the others don't, we can still handle most situations."
—
A pause.
—
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Draven.
—
"…And with him on the field," she added quietly, "…their side won't fall easily."
—
Kaelira exhaled through her nose.
Arms crossing.
—
"…Tch. Fine."
—
Her tail flicked once.
—
"…Just don't pick dead weight this time."
—
Behind them—
Tharic stood still.
—
Processing.
—
Because somehow—
—
he hadn't been discarded outright.
—
Lucien glanced at him briefly.
Not warm.
Not hostile.
Just practical.
—
"…Let's go," he muttered.
—
Because time—
—
was still moving.
—
And teams—
—
still needed to be formed.
—
They moved.
—
Fast.
—
No hesitation left.
No arguments.
—
Seryna took the lead, already scanning the battlefield with precise focus—eyes tracking movement, strength, potential.
Kaelira followed with loose shoulders and a predator's gaze, already judging worth in a single glance.
Lucien's sister moved with quiet authority, her steps steady, deliberate, as if the outcome had already been mapped in her mind.
—
"Stay close," she said calmly.
—
Not a suggestion.
—
An instruction.
—
Lucien nodded and followed.
Tharic came a step behind—still shaken, still uncertain—but moving.
—
Because now—
—
movement meant survival.
—
The group split.
—
Two teams forming in parallel across the fractured battlefield.
—
Around them—
—
chaos continued.
—
Shouts.
Footsteps.
Steel.
Blood.
—
But they moved with purpose.
—
And behind them—
—
Draven remained still.
—
Exactly where they had left him.
—
Chains hanging loose.
—
Unmoved.
Unbothered.
—
Like the world itself—
—
had agreed not to touch him.
—
His crimson eyes stayed forward.
Unblinking.
—
Watching something only he could see.
—
Or waiting for something only he would recognize.
—
Time passed.
—
Not long.
But enough.
—
The chaos didn't slow—but within it, decisions were made.
Alliances formed.
Numbers settled.
—
And eventually—
—
they returned.
—
First—
Seryna.
Kaelira.
Lucien's sister.
—
With them—
two others.
—
One stood steady, composed—carrying himself like someone used to pressure, even with mana restriction lifted.
—
The other—
tense.
alert.
mana still sealed.
—
But both alive.
—
Both chosen.
—
Then—
Lucien and Tharic arrived.
—
Less composed.
More uncertain.
—
But complete.
—
Two recruits beside them.
Both without mana.
Both painfully aware of their position.
—
They slowed as they approached.
—
Because Draven was still there.
—
Unmoved.
—
Exactly as before.
—
As if time had passed around him instead of through him.
—
They stopped a few steps away.
—
Lucien stepped slightly forward.
Tharic just behind.
The others quieter still.
—
No one spoke at first.
—
Because something about him—
—
made words feel unnecessary.
—
Or dangerous.
—
Lucien swallowed.
"…We found them," he said.
—
No response.
—
Draven's crimson eyes remained forward.
Unblinking.
—
Then—
slowly—
—
they shifted.
—
One by one.
—
Across the group.
—
Measuring.
Weighing.
—
Not strength.
—
Worth.
—
One of the new recruits stiffened.
The other avoided eye contact entirely.
—
Tharic held it.
Barely.
—
Lucien didn't look away.
—
Draven didn't linger long.
—
Just enough.
—
Then he looked away again.
—
No approval.
No rejection.
—
Just disinterest.
—
Silence lingered for half a breath.
—
Then—
—
**the timer hit zero.**
—
No warning.
No delay.
—
Just—
**detonation.**
—
Across the battlefield—
—
**POP.**
**POP.**
**POP.**
—
Collars exploded.
—
Heads burst in violent sprays of blood and bone.
—
Bodies dropped instantly.
—
Mid-step.
Mid-sentence.
Mid-breath.
—
One tried to run—
—
**BOOM.**
—
Gone.
—
The ground turned red.
—
Thick.
Fresh.
Unforgiving.
—
Screams didn't last.
Most never formed.
—
Silence followed.
—
Not clean.
—
But heavy.
—
Pressing into the chest.
—
Reminding the survivors—
—
they were alive only because they had been useful enough.
—
Lucien's jaw tightened.
Fists clenching slightly.
—
Tharic didn't move.
Didn't breathe for a moment.
—
The recruits behind them went pale, eyes wide, trying not to look at the aftermath.
—
Even Kaelira's tail stilled briefly.
Seryna's gaze hardened.
Lucien's sister didn't speak.
But her posture shifted—
more alert now.
Because this—
was only the beginning.
Then—
the voice returned.
Calm.
Unshaken.
"…Good."
—
A pause.
"…Now that you have formed your teams…"
Another pause.
Long enough to let the weight settle.
"…you will proceed to the next stage."
No theatrics.
No emotion.
Just instruction.
"…Remain where you are."
The ground beneath them hummed.
Low.
Deep.
—
Lines ignited beneath their feet.
Circles formed.
Formations unfolded.
Complex.
The air tightened.
Space itself shifted.
Lucien tensed instantly.
"…The same—?"
Seryna's eyes narrowed.
"…Teleportation."
Kaelira clicked her tongue.
"…Tch. Of course."
Draven didn't move.
Didn't react.
Because whatever came next—
didn't matter.
Not until it stood in front of him.
The light beneath them flared.
Blinding.
And in the next instant—
they were gone.