Adyr forced the emotions back where they belonged, emotions he had let surface for the first ti in a long while. Shaking off their lingering pull, he folded his wings against his back, drew his sword, and stepped forward. His boots splashed through the blood-soaked earth as he closed in on the nearest mutant.
He swung his razor-sharp blade at the frozen mutant’s neck, but its armored hide resisted the strike. The sword failed to cut clean through on the first attempt.
"Not as sharp as my crystal wings," Adyr noted as he pulled the blade back and prepared for a second strike.
The pain must have jolted the mutant from its paralysis. With the suppression of Malice and Presence fading, it let out a guttural hiss as blood sprayed from the wound in its neck. It lunged at Adyr, jaws snapping in desperation.
He caught it easily, gripping its mouth with one hand and holding it in place.
"Stay still. I’m trying to be rciful here, you know?" Adyr muttered with a faint chuckle as he raised his sword once more, letting black smoke-like Malice coil around the blade.
This ti, the result was imdiate. With a single clean strike, the mutant’s head separated from its body—the sword, now sharpened by Malice, cutting twice as easily.
Without wasting a mont, he moved to the next target, beheading them one by one in single, precise strikes. No wasted motion. No unnecessary effort.
By the ti the last mutant’s severed head hit the ground, a distant hum reached his ears. Sothing was approaching from the sky.
A hoverjet—though its design didn’t match Selina’s or the others’. This one resembled the models used in Shelter City 8.
It descended rapidly. As the cabin hatch opened, Rhys stepped out alongside a middle-aged man in a suit and several STF personnel.
"Looks like you’re done here," Rhys said, casting a brief glance at Adyr’s blood-soaked silhouette before taking in the field of scattered corpses around him.
Rhys’s expression held a wary tension, but there was no hostility in his gaze. Sensing that, Adyr allowed himself a faint, almost casual smile as he answered, "I might have gotten a little carried away. Sorry about the ss."
Rhys t his eyes in silence for a mont, then sighed quietly, his voice heavier when he finally spoke. "If only you understood... the ss you’ve made isn’t just here. It’s much larger than this."
He wasn’t exaggerating. For a while now, reports had flooded in—thousands dead from sudden heart failure, scattered across all twelve cities. And of course, that news had reached Rhys as well. It was the kind of death toll that shook even hardened soldiers.
Yet what could he say? In military thinking—especially Rhys’s—priorities always ca first. If sothing of higher value could be saved, then lesser lives, even human lives, could be sacrificed without hesitation.
Adyr had stopped the mutant army. He had saved an entire city. That much was undeniable. And looking at him now, Rhys doubted he even realized how many others had died elsewhere because of him. Could he really bla him?
Noticing the strange, tense expressions around him, Adyr narrowed his eyes slightly and asked, his tone calm but curious, "What’s the problem?"
This ti, it wasn’t Rhys who answered. The middle-aged man in the suit stepped forward instead.
"Mr. Adyr, my na is Abraham York. I’m the Defense Minister of Shelter City 8. It’s... an honor to et you." He extended a hand.
Adyr accepted the handshake without hesitation, but the mont their hands t, he noticed it. A subtle tremor. Barely perceptible, but enough for him to register instantly. His eyes flicked over the man in a single, efficient glance. He caught every small sign the body could reveal.
He’s afraid of .
And it wasn’t simple fear. It was deeper. Sothing colder. The kind of fear that settled in the bones and didn’t fade.
Abraham York drew a slow, deliberate breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. Those sharp, unblinking eyes fixed on him like they could unravel every hidden truth, making it impossible to hide the subtle tremor in his hands. He forced a calm, friendly tone as he spoke.
"Mr. Adyr, first, I want to thank you. For your effort, and for saving my city, on behalf of myself and all my people."
His voice held genuine gratitude, though toward the end it began to tremble. He coughed lightly to steady himself, clearing his throat as he fought to regain control over the wavering tone.
"There may be... disturbing news. Rumors you might hear from the people. But I advise you to ignore them. I want you to understand—it’s not your fault, and there is nothing you could have done differently."
Adyr’s brow furrowed as he absorbed the words. There was sothing carefully asured—and strained—about Abraham’s delivery.
It was like a father trying to soothe a child who had broken a valuable heirloom, saying, "Things can be replaced, but you cannot." The words were ant to comfort, yet the unease beneath them revealed just how hollow the reassurance really was.
Adyr shifted his gaze toward Rhys, searching for so clue in his expression. Rhys’s face betrayed a flicker of surprise at the Defense Minister’s words, but he chose to remain silent, understanding the delicacy of the situation. The mont was fragile and required careful thought rather than an impulsive response.
"Alright?" Adyr spoke calmly, his tone steady despite the underlying curiosity. He knew he could investigate these rumors and whispers on his own, but his focus was elsewhere because there was a more pressing matter demanding his attention.
He gave a polite, almost friendly smile, but a trace of unease lingered in his voice as he said, "I have a problem I hope you can help with."
The Defense Minister’s composure faltered for an instant, a brief tightening around the eyes, before he swiftly masked it with practiced control. "If there is anything we can assist with, please just say the word," he replied, his voice carefully neutral but edged with urgency.
Adyr inclined his head in acknowledgnt, then gestured toward the sprawling corpses littering the ground. "There should be exactly 1,893 bodies here. Each one bears a purple crystal embedded in its skull. Can you arrange for a team to harvest them properly?"
He stated the precise number deliberately, allowing no margin for error or theft. The ssage was clear: any missing crystals would be imdiately noticed, and any attempt at pilfering would not go unpunished.
Abraham York could do nothing but nod in understanding. Beneath the courteous request, he sensed a subtle warning carefully concealed but unmistakable.
As the man considered how this young-looking youth could kill soone without even touching them, even from kiloters away, he was certain that any request coming from him would be carried out swiftly and without error.
There was sothing else. Before coming here, Abraham had been specifically summoned by the City Manager, who ordered him to exercise extre caution regarding Adyr’s attitude and actions.
Even if Abraham didn’t fully understand the reason behind this order, it was clear that without such an instruction, he would have acted the sa. Crossing a monster like this was the last thing he wanted in his life.
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