5 Hours Later
Elena stood in full military attire, katana strapped at her side, as she inspected the soldiers placed under her command. Since Ezra held no rank in the army, authority had naturally shifted to her. He was not part of the chain of command. His role was simple—fight, but without orders. A lone sword at the edge of the formation.
This was no routine mobilization. Bloodfort was under emergency decree. Every awakener above Rank-2 had been summoned to the walls. The Human Council had promised survivors rare resources—fuel for their next breakthrough—but everyone understood the truth: those rewards were bait dangling above a killing field.
Her gaze drifted toward Ezra. He sat on a bench, polishing his sword with calm, deliberate strokes. The blade gleamed silver in the lamplight, as though he believed clarity could be found in its reflection.
"Ezra…" Elena's voice softened. "I'm sorry about all this."
