"Who the fuck are you?"
Aiku’s voice cut through the ruined silence, laced with defiance and disbelief. His golden aura flared, reacting to the insult of being upstaged—of having his divine coin caught like a child’s toy.
Alister didn’t answer imdiately.
He simply glanced at Aiku with a look that sohow combined mild disappointnt with complete disinterest—like a teacher addressing a loud student he had long since given up on.
Then, with a sigh—one heavy with exhaustion, as if reality itself was starting to bore him—he turned his eyes to Anya.
Crimson t gold.
And in that mont, everything shifted.
Alister took a step forward.
Then another.
And then he arrived before Anya in a single breath of motion—one mont distant, the next so close she could see her face reflected in his eyes.
He reached out with gentleness, brushing aside a few strands of blood-matted hair from her face and tucking them behind her ear.
"You okay?"
Anya blinked, caught off guard not by the question—but by the softness behind it. After everything, that’s what he asked?
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips despite herself.
She leaned in just a little, the defiant glint in her eyes returning like embers stirred by wind.
"You know I’m not so delicate damsel, right?" she murmured, voice playful, even as her legs trembled beneath her.
Alister’s expression didn’t change, but sothing in the air around him did—less sharp now, less divine judge and more... human.
"I know," he said, his eyes scanning her battered form. "But you’re still mine to protect... or are you not?"
Anya’s breath hitched—just for a second.
There it was again. That damnable way he said things. Calm, certain, like the world itself had already agreed with him. Like fate would fold in half if he so much as insisted.
She rolled her eyes, half-smile deepening as she looked away to mask the flutter in her chest. "Tch. You really know how to make a girl feel owned."
Alister chuckled, a low sound—warm, but tinged with finality. "Not owned. Just... prioritized."
Anya huffed, folding her arms defiantly.
"If I was really prioritized, you’d be returning my calls."
Alister’s smile curved, calm and unruffled.
"I’m sorry. I’ve been busy."
She shot him a skeptical look.
"Too busy to make ti for ?"
He tilted his head slightly, that sa easy smile still playing on his lips.
"I didn’t say that."
Anya’s eyes narrowed, voice sharp but teasing.
"But that’s exactly what you’ve been doing."
Alister shrugged, a hint of amusent flickering in his gaze.
"Well, it turns out safeguarding a city is a lot more complicated than I expected. But I’m managing well enough."
He gave her a look—half apologetic, half confident—like he was both admitting his faults and promising he’d make it right.
Anya’s voice dropped, firm but laced with sothing raw beneath the surface.
"I don’t want any more stories, Alister."
She looked away, cheeks flushing slightly—annoyed and embarrassed all at once.
"Chase like you an it," she said, voice quieter but no less intense.
"Don’t make so kind of side quest. I’ll kill you if you dare."
Alister’s lips curled into a teasing smile, eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Oh my," he said softly, stepping just a fraction closer,
"Has anyone ever told you that you look cute when you’re like this?"
His voice was low, almost a whisper, like sharing a secret ant only for her ears.
Before she could retort, the temperature shifted again.
Aiku’s golden aura pulsed—sharper this ti, angry.
"You arrogant bastard," he spat, his voice echoing with divine pressure. "You think you can just walk in, steal my mont, and pretend like you run the board?"
He extended a hand, and the celestial wheel behind him flared, spinning with renewed fury. The ghostly goddess beside him leaned in, whispering sothing only he could hear. His smirk returned, now twisted with venom.
"You’re interrupting a ga that was already in motion."
Alister turned his head slightly, just enough to address Aiku without fully facing him—like one might do when acknowledging a child having a tantrum.
Alister’s lips curled into a sly grin.
"Sorry, I was waiting to get us an audience. These days I don’t act unless I have eyes on ... crazy how I’m starting to sound like my father."
Just then, the distant drone of helicopter blades cut through the tense air. A pair of news choppers appeared overhead, their powerful searchlights slicing through the dimness and locking onto Aiku’s golden aura.
The celestial glow flickered under the harsh artificial beams, the divine pressure montarily overshadowed by the mundane intrusion of earthly technology.
The helicopter lights pulsed as they circled overhead, their caras zeroing in on the surreal confrontation below.
From inside one of the choppers, a reporter’s voice buzzed over the speakers, barely audible over the rotors.
"—unbelievable scenes unfolding here at the Union detainnt facility in Sector III. What appears to be a clash between Awakened-class individuals is escalating—wait, we’re zooming in now, and from what we can see it appears as though the Dragon Lord himself has stepped in to handle the situation, but apparently word reaching says guild mbers of the Berserkers are busy handling other inmates who used the commotion as a ans to aid their escape as well."
Another chopper picked up the thread, the voice of a second anchor cutting in—tense, breathless.
"This footage is historic. Citizens of other districts are being advised to stay indoors. Our analysts are confirming that the mana signatures coming from the golden-haired man mark him as an SS-ranked Awakened individual. The pressure here is insane—my caraman can barely keep the lens steady."
Back on the ground, Aiku’s aura flared brighter, golden arcs cracking the pavent beneath his feet as his smirk curled further, rage and pride intermingling.
But before he could raise his hand again—
A firm hand clasped his shoulder.
Aiku turned sharply, ready to lash out—
Only to find Claus standing beside him, calm and resolute, his expression grave behind his glasses.
"We need to pull out," Claus said, voice low but edged with steel.
Aiku sneered. "Didn’t I make it clear that I don’t take—"
Claus didn’t flinch.
"If you don’t listen to now, then our deal is off."
That got Aiku’s attention.
Claus leaned closer, his tone dropping to sothing only Aiku could hear.
"Look, I don’t know how you got captured last ti. Maybe you forgot, or maybe you’re lying to yourself. But that man..." —he nodded subtly toward Alister, who stood relaxed with his back half-turned— "is the Dragon Summoner."
Claus’s voice darkened.
"His talent rank is SSS."
Aiku blinked, the words registering like thunder rolling behind his eyes.
Claus continued, firm.
"Regardless of what you think, I don’t believe re luck would be enough to match soone who could overwhelm us in monts. You may not have noticed, but he already has us surrounded. The only reason he hasn’t had any of his dragons capture us is because he wants to make a show out of this. And if that’s the case... then staying here ans playing by his script."
The searchlights above flickered as the choppers repositioned.
Alister still hadn’t moved.
He didn’t need to.
He just waited—confident, patient—as though the entire stage had always belonged to him.
And maybe it had.
Aiku’s breath hitched—just barely—but Claus noticed.
Because Aiku had glanced back.
And what he saw stopped even his boiling pride cold.
Perched atop the jagged skeleton of a shattered skyscraper stood a figure clad in obsidian dragonscale, the armor etched with jagged cracks glowing violet. Purple lightning danced along the edge of the massive sword resting on his shoulder.
Draven.
The Dragon Knight. A walking calamity. His re presence could turn a battlefield to molten glass.
By his side stood another figure—taller, regal, radiating a cold majesty. His armor was white and blue, glinting like frost beneath a full moon. Strapped across his back was an immaculate white bow, and his gaze—sharp, piercing, almost divine—never left Aiku for a second.
Alzuring.
The Sky Dragon in humanoid form.
Then lower down, almost hidden amidst the wreckage of a broken complex, sat a child.
Visibly, he looked no older than ten, barefoot, perched at the crumbling edge of a cracked roof, tail lazily flicking behind him. He held a wooden staff and stared at them like a kid watching his favorite cartoon.
Little Tree, Silvyr.
Deceptively cute—fatally dangerous.
His green tail wagged once, twice... too much for comfort.
Above them, suspended in the air like silver-winged reapers, hovered two won. Both had flowing silver hair and crimson eyes. But one had a glimring red diamond tattoo gleaming on her forehead—glowing faintly like it was alive.
Mar’Garet and Cinder.
And they weren’t just watching. They were waiting. Tense. Coiled.
Beyond them, in the higher altitude of the darkening sky, shadowy shapes shifted—gliding.
Wyverns.
Dozens of them, circling slowly like vultures awaiting a corpse that didn’t know it was dead yet.
Aiku’s lips parted slightly. His expression faltered—not in fear, but in calculation.
Claus didn’t say a word.
He didn’t need to.
Because even the proudest fool knows when the board’s already been set.
And Aiku... was now just a piece.
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