When the Federation received the ergency notice from the stations in Hell, they moved imdiately. No matter how urgent the situation was, mobilizing Rank three supernaturals was never easy. To stabilize the situation before it escalated further, they sent one of the few available Rank four supernaturals they could spare.
The man in the suit standing in Varun's office was that individual.
When he arrived, he was shocked to find the second floor station almost empty. It was fortunate, though strange, that he encountered a Starborn there. At the very least, it gave him soone who knew more about what had happened.
Most of the information matched the initial report, but new details soon surfaced. Among them was the ntion of a young Awakener capable of controlling multiple Rank three creatures despite supposedly being only a Rank two Awakener.
That detail left a deep impression.
Still, the old soldier found it difficult to believe. Perhaps the so called youth was actually an older man using rejuvenation arts. Or maybe he was already Rank three and simply wielded an abnormal and dangerous technique.
None of his assumptions were pleasant.
His concern deepened when he learned that the majority of the second floor station soldiers had followed that boy's lead. That fact alone made him deeply uneasy.
Just as he was preparing to move to the second floor himself, he sensed activity surging from the gate that connected the second floor to the first. He chose to wait.
As expected, based on the stable life signs he sensed from the soldiers guarding the gate, the second floor station had won. It was likely due to that so called "young" expert.
However, when he finally t the mysterious individual in person, he was confused by the youthful vitality radiating from him.
If Rank three marked a supernatural's first step into touching universal secrets, then Rank four was an entirely different threshold. It was a step closer to the universe itself.
Suppressed or not, there were very few things one could hide from soone at that level, especially when the other party was weaker. Yet Michael was difficult to read.
Compared to the man, Michael was fast, but because of everything tied to him, the old man could not perceive him clearly the way he could other Rank three supernaturals.
Michael did not know it yet, but due to his nature, there was nothing he could do to ever appear normal in the eyes of Rank four beings.
Still, while the man could tell Michael was far from ordinary, the fact that he had not yet truly ascended with a Law raised many questions.
The biggest of them was the soldiers.
How did they survive with zero casualties?
Even he could not replicate such a result under the sa conditions. No matter how strong he was, he was still suppressed, and he would have been forced to fight alongside other experienced Rank three supernaturals. That outco should not have been possible.
The old man's gaze lingered on Michael for several breaths longer than was comfortable. Then he spoke again.
"Did you receive any external assistance?" he asked evenly.
That must be it.
There was no other explanation that fit cleanly. If another Rank four had intervened, even briefly, then everything made sense. Zero casualties. Complete suppression. A clean reversal on the first floor.
The old man felt so of the tension drain from his shoulders.
But as that thought settled, another rose to replace it.
If external help truly existed, then did that an the early floors of Hell now housed more than one Rank four supernatural?
That was not a small matter.
Rank four beings were not common assets.
The man wondered if this had sothing to do with the second issue
the Starborn had told him.
Just as he was about to pursue the thought further, a calm voice cut
in and stopped him cold.
"No," Michael said. "There was no external help."
The old man blinked.
For the first ti since entering the room, he hesitated to continue.
"What did you say?" he asked.
Michael t his gaze without flinching. "The operation was carried out by the second floor station and my undead alone."
Silence fell again.
The old man stared at Michael, searching for the slightest trace of exaggeration or deception.
He found none.
"...Impossible," the old man said slowly. Without waiting for Michael to
speak, he gestured for Varun to give a full recount of what had happened on the first floor. The more Varun spoke, the more
surprised the old man beca.
It was not only him. The Starborn was equally shaken as he wondered
who in the world had saved him.
He had seen Michael summon his undead and lead them into the
portal, yet the weight of the situation still pressed heavily on his
chest.
Soon, the room fell into silence as the Rank four supernatural
continued staring at Michael.
The silence stretched.
The old man's stern posture eased and beca gentler.
Almost familial.
He turned fully toward Michael, studying him with an expression that
was no longer judgntal, but curious.
"You," he said slowly, "what is your na, young man?"
Michael straightened slightly. "Michael Norman, sir."
The old man nodded once, committing it to mory.
"And your age?"
"Eighteen."
The old man's brows rose before he could stop them. For a mont,
the calm mask slipped, revealing genuine surprise.
"Eighteen..." he repeated quietly.
He had sensed the youthfulness in Michael's aura, but he had
assud the boy was in his early twenties at the youngest. That
would already have been shocking enough.
Eighteen was different.
Even among Awakeners, who were known to progress faster than
ordinary supernaturals, this was absurd.
The old man exhaled slowly, recalibrating his thoughts.
"And when did you awaken?" he asked.
In his mind, the answer could only fall within two unreasonable
possibilities.
Sixteen years old. Two years ago.
Or seventeen. One year ago.
Either would already defy common sense.
Michael answered calmly.
"This year."
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