— Damian Ivaris’s POV —
Crunch... crunch...
The sound of oil- and spice-soaked skin being chewed echoed through the enclosed space like gunshots.
I sat stiffly, like a statue of ice, on the plush seat made from the hide of a rare "Minotaur" beast.
The car we were riding in wasn’t an ordinary vehicle; it was more like a moving palace. A VIP armored car belonging to the Magical Intelligence Command, powered by completely silent Eitra engines, gliding through the streets of the Golden Sector of the city of "Elysium" without making a whisper.
The windows were pitch-black from the outside, resistant to magical explosions up to Rank A.
In this sterile, luxurious, and terrifyingly silent environnt... the only sound was the crunch of fried chicken.
A cold drop of sweat, the size of a grape, ford at my hairline and slowly slid down my forehead, then my cheek, all the way to my chin.
I was afraid to wipe it away. I was afraid to breathe too loudly.
I was even afraid to blink at an annoying rhythm.
I sat in the back seat, cramd into the corner, my eyes stealing glances at the girl sitting across from , one leg casually crossed over the other with cosmic indifference.
"Valisera."
The commander of the Special Oversight Squad.
A devil with angelic features.
She had shiny silver hair cut precisely to her shoulders, and crimson eyes that glead like fresh blood.
She wore her luxurious black-and-silver military uniform, adorned with dals that would make mustached generals with white hair cry out of envy.
With her left hand, clad in a tactical glove, she held her phone, scrolling through sothing with boredom.
And with her bare right hand... she held a massive fried chicken drumstick, biting into it with a savagery that completely contradicted her flawless face.
How? How was this even possible?
I scread internally until my ntal vocal cords nearly tore apart.
This girl, who looked like she couldn’t be older than eighteen or nineteen at most... was ranked S-!
Rank S-! Do you realize what that number ans in the world of Elysium?
It ans she could wipe out an entire residential district with a sneeze.
It ans that if she wanted, she could cut off my head—and my entire squad’s heads—with a toothpick.
How did she reach this level of power at such an age? Did she feed on monster cores instead of her mother’s milk?
Did she swallow an entire dungeon while still in the cradle?
Valisera and I weren’t the only ones in this luxurious car.
Beside her sat a man whose re presence made it hard to breathe just by looking at him.
Commander "Kirion Drathis."
Valisera’s direct superior, and one of the legends of the FBI.
A man in his mid-forties, his face a map of harsh scars, his eyes gray like winter storms.
His rank? A pure, untainted Rank S. He sat with his back straight as a ruler, wearing his formal military uniform, and his aura alone was enough to make feel like an ant being crushed under a steel boot.
"Why aren’t they nervous?" I asked myself, my stomach tightening in fear.
"We’re not going on a picnic! We’re not heading to inspect a Rank B dungeon!
We’re going to the palace of ’Kaiser Dravion’! The ruler of Elysium! One of the Seven Supres! The rulers of this world!
I’m about to throw up my guts just thinking about breathing the sa oxygen as him, and they’re acting like we’re going on a school trip!"
Crunch...
Valisera took another bite of chicken, chewing loudly, then wiped so oil from the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
Kirion slowly turned toward her.
His gray eyes sparked with restrained irritation.
He glanced at the chicken, then at the phone, then let out a deep sigh—the sigh of a man who had exhausted all his energy on upbringing.
"I should never have made you a squad leader," Kirion said in a rough, low voice that filled the car with intimidation.
"You were never ready for leadership. Physical strength does not equal military maturity, Valisera."
Valisera stopped chewing for a second.
She didn’t lift her crimson eyes from her phone screen.
She swallowed, then took a very loud sip from a massive cup of soda resting in the holder beside her.
"This isn’t my fault, Kirion," Valisera replied coldly, her tone lacking even a shred of the expected respect for her commander.
"Don’t bla my leadership skills. You gave the worst squad in the entire history of the FBI. A bunch of arrogant idiots who think the rank printed on their cards makes them invincible."
Her words struck my chest like a poisoned dagger.
She was talking about and my teammates.
Aiden, Sia, Eva... and . Squad "Alpha."
My pride hurt, but... damn it, I couldn’t deny a single word she said.
We got our faces wiped across the floor of a G-sector dungeon because of our stupidity and arrogance, and we were toyed with in the lower sector streets by a sewer thief whose rank didn’t even exceed trash. We were a joke.
"Co on, Valisera," Kirion said firmly, his thick brows knitting together.
"Don’t use Alpha Squad as an excuse. Just admit that you’re a failed leader who doesn’t know how to lead a team or integrate her tactics with those weaker than her."
Valisera completely ignored him and reached into the oil-stained paper bag to pull out another piece of chicken.
"Mmm... this chicken is really spicy today. Want a piece, Kirion? It might improve your depressed mood."
Kirion shut his eyes tightly, trying to suppress the urge to throw her out of the armored car window.
"Do you even realize the magnitude of the situation we’re heading into right now? Do you know that all FBI and CIA commanders will be at this eting?"
Kirion asked, his voice carrying a veiled warning.
Valisera didn’t respond, just kept scrolling on her phone.
"And that the Director of the FBI himself is coming?" Kirion continued, his voice rising slightly.
"And the head of the CIA will be there as well? This is a top-level security summit for the city of Elysium in front of Supre Dravion to present a report on the recent chaos!"
Sluuuurp...
Valisera responded while drinking the rest of her soda through a plastic straw, making that irritating hollow sound at the bottom of the cup.
"Yes, yes, I know," she said with boredom, as if talking about tomorrow’s weather.
"Old n in expensive suits will sit around a table trading accusations about who lost the lab and who let the Black Joker escape. A boring play."
Kirion’s patience finally ran out. He turned fully toward her and then pointed... at .
I froze in place. My heart stopped beating.
Oh God, don’t drag into your argunt! I’m just decoration here! I’m an extra seat!
"If you understand the importance of this eting..." Kirion growled with suppressed anger.
"Then why the hell... is Damian here?!"
I swallowed with extre difficulty.
I wanted to raise my hand and say: Yes! Excellent question, sir! I’d also like to know why I’m here! Please drop off at the nearest gas station!
"You know that everyone invited to this eting—the weakest among them, the absolute weakest—will be at least Rank A !"
Kirion continued scolding her, his eyes piercing like lasers.
"And this boy... Damian... barely broke into Rank A! His Eitra aura is so weak it might go out the mont Kaiser Dravion’s guards stand next to him! Bringing him here is an insult to protocol!"
Every word Kirion said was true—and painful.
Yes, I was the weakest person in this car, and I would be the weakest living being in the entire palace, maybe even weaker than the guard dogs.
Valisera stopped chewing.
Finally, she lifted her terrifying crimson eyes, looked at Kirion, then shifted her gaze to .
The smile that appeared on her oil-glossed lips did not bode well at all.
"Oh, Kirion... you always misunderstand ," Valisera said in a falsely innocent tone.
"I didn’t bring him because he’s a leader or because he has any tactical value in the eting. I brought him for a purely logistical reason."
"A logistical reason?" Kirion asked mockingly.
"And what is that?"
Valisera extended her left hand... and grabbed the paper bag filled with chicken bones, oil-stained napkins, and the empty soda cup.
Then... she threw it into my lap.
The trash bag landed on the pants of my luxurious formal suit, which I had borrowed just for this day.
Oil slowly began seeping into the fabric.
"I brought him to help dispose of the trash," Valisera said with a wide smile as she wiped her hands with a wet tissue.
"I an, look at him, Kirion. Who’s going to take this annoying bag if I want to step out in full elegance in front of the palace? The trash bins are far from the main gate. Damian is very useful for these things."
Kirion’s pupil widened for a mont, then he looked forward again, rubbing between his brows as if begging the Supres for patience.
"You’re sick, Valisera. Truly sick."
As for ... I stared at the bag of bones and oil resting in my lap.
The flas of suppressed anger ignited in my chest.
I felt my blood boiling in my veins.
I am Damian! A mber of the elite Alpha Squad! A military academy graduate with honors! A Rank A awakened! People in the lower sector bow to in fear!
I am not your slave, you damn woman!
I scread at the top of my lungs inside my skull.
I am not a trash can for your leftovers! Damn you and your rank! Damn your arrogance!
I’ll stand up right now, throw this bag in your beautiful face, and resign from this damn job!
"Damian?" Valisera’s icy voice interrupted my rebellious thoughts.
"Is there a problem with carrying the bag?"
My eyes t her crimson ones.
The aura leaking from her in that mont... was so heavy it felt like a car was pressing down on my lungs.
Death danced in her pupils.
Of course, I didn’t say what I was thinking out loud.
If I did... I would never see sunlight again. She’d turn into an extra crispy chicken piece in her al.
"N-no... there’s absolutely no problem at all, ma’am," I said with a trembling voice and a stupid smile glued to my face, hugging the trash bag to my chest as if it were my first child.
"It’s an honor to serve my command in all... logistical tasks."
Valisera returned her attention to her phone, and Kirion let out another sigh.
And I sat there, with crushed dignity, an oil-stained suit, and a soul crying blood.
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