Vanguard of the Obsidian King
A tall man stepped out of the car and bowed respectfully.
"Obsidian King!"
Evan didn't turn immediately. He stood beneath the fading dusk light, hands behind his back, posture straight, the faint breeze stirring his black hair. His eyes were dark and steady—calm on the surface, calculating beneath.
"Bear, how did it go?" he asked evenly.
An aura of dominance radiated from him—not loud, not theatrical. It was the kind of pressure only those accustomed to commanding life and death could carry.
The man called Bear lowered his head slightly.
Bear was one of the eight war generals of the Obsidian Wing.
His face was rough and unremarkable, jaw broad, features harsh. But his loyalty was unquestionable. His mind for business was sharp. He was both sword and shield to Evan.
Wherever Evan went, Bear followed.
First, for convenience.
Second—
To make Evan's own presence appear even more striking by contrast.
Bear reported promptly.
