Then, without warning, the dinsional rift that had been continuously spawning demons began to collapse.
The malevolent energy pulsing from the tear in reality flickered, weakened, then suddenly compressed inward. The rift sealed itself with a sound like reality snapping back into place, leaving only empty air where the invasion point had existed monts before.
WHOMP!
The sudden silence was jarring. No more demon roars. No more creatures pouring through. Just the aftermath of battle and exhausted fighters trying to process their unexpected victory.
Arthur watched the collapsed rift with analytical focus, his tactical mind imdiately working through implications.
They stopped supplying demons to this location, he thought with growing concern. That's not random. Dinsional rifts don't just close on their own—soone on the demon side made a deliberate choice to shut it down.
His eyes narrowed as possibilities cascaded through his consciousness.
Either they're transferring resources elsewhere, concentrating their forces on a different target... or they're preparing for another massive-scale attack. Pulling back to consolidate before launching sothing bigger.
Neither option was comforting. The demons had shown increasing coordination and strategic thinking throughout this invasion. Random spawning had given way to organized assaults. Now they were demonstrating resource managent—choosing when and where to commit forces.
The French awakeners, unaware of Arthur's darker analysis, celebrated their victory with exhausted relief.
"We did it! The rift is closed!"
"Finally! I thought we'd be fighting forever!"
"That dragon rider saved us! Where did she go?"
Charlotte noticed the attention shifting toward her and looked uncertain about how to respond. She'd been focused entirely on combat, not considering the aftermath or how to handle grateful survivors.
Arthur leaned forward slightly, speaking quietly. "Ti to leave. You don't need to explain yourself to them."
Charlotte nodded with obvious relief. "Aether, can we go sowhere else?"
"Of course, Master's sister! Where to?"
Before Arthur could respond, a familiar presence registered on his spatial senses. Aamon, the true demon bound to his service, was approaching rapidly from deeper within Paris.
Master, Aamon's ntal voice carried through their telepathic bond. I sensed the rift activity and was en route to eliminate it. But it appears you've already handled the situation.
We did, Arthur confird. The rift closed on its own though. Deliberately sealed from the demon side.
This has happened a few tis with , too, Aamon replied, his tone carrying the sa tactical assessnt Arthur had reached.
Arthur was about to respond when one of the French awakeners below shouted with sudden recognition.
"Wait! That dragon! I've seen reports about a dragon belonging to Sir Fateless! Could that girl be...?"
"Sir Fateless? Here in Paris?!"
"Where?! I don't see him! I thought he was dead?!"
The awakeners began scanning the area frantically, searching for any sign of the legendary player whose reputation had spread across the globe.
Arthur smiled wryly beneath his concealnt. Ti to definitely leave.
"Aether, take us to—"
"WAIT!" A commanding voice rang out across the battlefield.
A figure erged from the nearby street—an older man in elaborate combat gear marked with French military insignia. His presence carried authority that made the other awakeners imdiately straighten to attention.
General Laurent Dubois, the highest-ranking awakened officer in the French military and brother to President Dubois himself.
The General's eyes locked onto Charlotte and Aether with intense focus, his expression mixing respect, curiosity, and careful calculation.
"Dragon rider," General Dubois called out formally. "On behalf of France and President Dubois, I request a mont of your ti. We would like to properly thank you for your assistance and... perhaps discuss matters of mutual interest."
His gaze shifted slightly, as if searching the empty air around Charlotte and Aether for sothing—or soone—he suspected might be there but couldn't quite see.
Arthur felt Charlotte tense on Aether's back, unsure how to respond to the sudden diplomatic attention.
Your call, Master, Aamon's ntal voice carried amusent. Reveal yourself, or should I make him leave.
Arthur considered briefly, watching the French awakeners below—exhausted, grateful, strengthened by the rare equipnt his talent had provided.
'Make him leave. I don't want attention on now, I also don't want details of what happened to leave this place.'
'Yes, Master.'
Aamon's presence shifted, his true demon authority asserting itself in ways the humans below couldn't perceive but would instinctively respond to. Arthur felt the subtle manipulation of fear and compulsion rippling outward.
General Dubois suddenly stiffened, his eyes going distant for a mont. When focus returned to his expression, confusion flickered across his features before being replaced by urgent concern about matters elsewhere.
"I... apologies, but urgent business requires my imdiate attention," the General said abruptly, his tone carrying bewildernt at his own words. "Thank you for your assistance, dragon rider. France will not forget."
He turned and strode away rapidly, the other awakeners watching with confusion as their commanding officer departed without explanation.
"Did he just... leave?"
"What urgent business? The rift is closed!"
"Maybe another attack elsewhere?"
The awakeners' attention fragnted, discussions breaking out about the strange encounter rather than focusing on Charlotte and Aether.
"Ti to go," Arthur said quietly. "Aether, take us ho. Our old house in Detroit."
Aether's cheerful deanor dimd slightly—he understood the significance of that location. "Okay, Master. Going to the mory place."
Whoosh!
Spatial energy wrapped around them as reality folded, Paris dissolving into streams of dinsional transit before reforming into the devastated streets of Detroit.
When the world solidified, they stood before what remained of the Fate family ho.
The house was half-destroyed, a casualty of the demon invasion that had flooded Detroit during the apocalypse's early days. The right side of the structure had collapsed entirely, walls reduced to rubble and exposed timber. The left side stood precariously, windows shattered, the roof partially caved in.
Nature had already begun reclaiming what humanity had abandoned—vines crawled up damaged walls, grass pushed through cracks in the driveway, and debris lay scattered where it had fallen so ti ago.
Charlotte dismounted from Aether slowly, her staff lowering as she took in the devastation. Her eyes moved across the ruins with recognition—the broken front door where their father used to greet them after work, the collapsed living room where they'd spent countless evenings together, the remnants of the kitchen where their mother had cooked als with patient care.
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