A cold prickle crawled up Ethan’s spine. “You couldn’t confirm it even if you wanted to,” she continued softly. “High-clearance units aren’t permitted to disclose affiliation. Especially not to civilians.” The biggest succubus exhaled slowly. “Oh gods. He’s that kind.” “The quiet ones,” the third said faintly. “The ones whose names don’t exist on record.” Ethan remained silent. Not because he was trying to be dramatic. Because he genuinely had no idea what to say next. Three pairs of eyes were on him now—measuring, recalculating. He could almost feel them trying to slot him into some invisible taxonomy of power and threat. Say too much, and he’d expose the lie. Say too little, and he’d invite suspicion. Say the wrong thing— You’re dead, his brain supplied helpfully. However, in order to maintain his sense of mystery, Ethan did not rush to explain. He let the moment breathe, pretending the pause was intentional while his thoughts scrambled. He searched for something—an

Velthra’s wings flared slightly before she caught herself. Ilyss sucked in a sharp breath. “My… guard?” Karpeta repeated, her voice a mix of surprise and curiosity. “Yes,” Ethan said simply. Karpeta’s brow furrowed. “But… why? Why now?” Ethan’s tone remained calm, neutral, as if suggesting nothing more significant than a change in travel formation. “It provides a clear explanation for my presence,” he said. “Authority without exposure. Mobility without scrutiny.” Karpeta glanced at Velthra, then back to Ethan. “So… you’re proposing this as a matter of convenience?” Ethan shook his head slightly. “Not convenience. Strategy. Discretion. And… accountability.” “Accountability?” Karpeta echoed. “Yes,” Ethan replied, meeting her eyes directly. “It places responsibility somewhere acceptable.” She stared at him for a long moment, trying to weigh the meaning behind his words. “So,” she said finally, “you would be publicly associated with me.” “I would,” he confirmed. “And others wo

The silence did not break.It deepened.Ethan stood still on the ancient road, eyes scanning the empty ridgelines.Velthra’s wings shifted slightly.“It’s reacting,” she said quietly.Karpeta looked at Ethan. “Did you do something?”“No,” he said evenly.That was true.He had done nothing.And yet—The road felt aware.Not hostile.Not welcoming.Just… aware.Like something ancient had opened one eye.Ethan forced himself to breathe slowly. He did not speak of the thread in his chest. He did not speak of the way it pulsed in rhythm with the stone beneath his boots.He simply said, “It’s stable.”Velthra studied him. “You’re certain?”“Yes.”A pause.Then Karpeta nodded. “We continue.”No one questioned him further.But the road did not feel the same after that.It felt like it was listening.⸻They made camp when night fully fell.The sky above the highlands shimmered with deep crimson stars, unfamiliar constellations burning faintly through the haze. The wind had died completely.Too

This time, they were lean and armored. Eyes glowing faintly in the dark.Velthra hissed. “They tracked us.”Karpeta’s voice was tight. “No insignia.”“Doesn’t matter,” Ethan said.More shapes emerged from the shadows—surrounding, coordinated.One of them spoke, voice metallic and distorted.“Target confirmed.”Ilyss’s breath hitched. “Target?”All glowing eyes shifted.To Ethan.The thread in his chest flared violently.Ethan stepped forward into the dark.“…So much for not being interesting,” he muttered.The night exploded into motion.The violet afterglow of the impact faded, leaving only crimson starlight and silhouettes.Ethan didn’t look back.“Hide,” he said quietly.Velthra stepped beside Karpeta instinctively. “There are too many.”“I know.”Ilyss counted under her breath. “…Eight. No—ten.”“Twelve,” Ethan corrected calmly. “Two still on the ridge.”A low chuckle rolled through the dark.Heavy footsteps followed.From behind the outer ring of armored figures, something large

“…Impossible,” one of his soldiers whispered.The word drifted over the ridge like ash.Ethan stood amid the fallen, boots planted between broken weapons and cooling armor. He rolled his shoulder once, slow and casual, as though testing a joint after sleep.No strain.No rush of breath.No trembling in his hands.A thin line of smoke curled up from the stones at his feet where something had struck and shattered. He didn’t look down.The leader stepped forward.Each footfall landed with enough force to send a shudder through the rock beneath them. Pebbles danced. Fractured blades rang faintly as they shifted.“You,” he growled, voice lowering until it seemed to vibrate in the bones rather than the ears, “are not ordinary.”Ethan glanced at him mildly, as if assessing a merchant who’d just offered a poor bargain.“I’ve heard that tonight.”A murmur rippled through the surviving demons. It wasn’t anger.It was uncertainty.The leader’s jaw clenched, thick cords in his neck tightening ben