Quincy's words sent a sharp spike of panic through Xain. *Crap. I need to be alone to even try that,* he thought. He lifted his head quickly. "That feels unnecessary. I—I think it's better if I go by my—"
Quincy's eyes flashed blood red.
"Someone will go with you!" she snapped.
For a brief moment her vampiric features surfaced—fangs visible, presence pressing down on the room hard enough that nearly everyone instinctively stepped back. Nearly everyone. Even moved without hesitation, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. The tension broke. Quincy's fangs retracted, the red drained from her eyes, and she drew a slow, unsteady breath.
She rubbed at her eyes, head lowered. "Sorry," she said quietly. "I'm just… really stressed right now." Then she looked back up at Xain, resolve firm despite the strain in her voice. "But this is not negotiable. You will have someone with you. I do not want you—any of you—alone right now."
She paused, then shook her head once. "Actually, I'm changing it. Two people are going with you. Three people minimum are going out together from now on."
Everyone but Xain nodded almost immediately. It was uncomfortable, restrictive—but it made sense.
"But—" Xain started.
"No 'but's," Quincy said, cutting him off, her tone pleading now rather than sharp. "Please, Xain. Just… please listen to me."
She looked exhausted. Not just tired, but worn thin by everything piling on at once. Xain hesitated, then dropped his gaze to the floor, guilt settling in his chest. Pushing back felt wrong now.
"Okay," he muttered. "You're right. It's for the best."
"It is," Bryanard said, crossing his arms. "Even if it complicates things."
"That's the problem," Amos added. "We're already stretched thin. Grouping up more makes covering the city harder."
They all knew it. Their earlier efforts—clearing demons, making a path for the civilians to the coliseum—had helped, but it was a fraction of what needed to be done. They could feel it, a pressure building in the air itself. More demons were coming. Entire sections of the city were still in danger. This decision would slow everything down.
Xain said nothing, but his thoughts churned. *Goddess… where is Ercale? Why isn't he back yet? If he were here, we could cover so much more ground.* Worry gnawed at him as his mind drifted briefly to the absent Demon Lord.
Quincy answered Amos, her voice steady despite everything weighing on her. "We don't have a choice. I'm not letting anyone else get stranded like Gurion and Hittag, or beaten down like Zeva. We work with the people we have, and we make it work."
It was a sentiment everyone had no choice but to agree on.
"Maybe we can help."
The voice cut cleanly through the room—oddly modulated, stripped of any natural timbre. The meeting room doors swung open, and the air shifted immediately.
Even stiffened, his expression hardening as his gaze locked onto Samwell Mathers. His father stood tall, posture rigid, his face stern and faintly irritated, deliberately angled away from his son. Beside him was Matthew Mathers, visibly tense, shoulders tight, eyes fixed on the floor as if afraid to meet anyone's gaze.
The two knights and the guard commander reacted instantly. Steel rang softly as they dropped to one knee, heads bowed. The reason was clear.
The Emperor of Aetheria had entered.
It did not matter that he was not their Emperor. An Emperor was an Emperor. Respect was not optional.
At his side stood Tianteng. Though she held her composure, irritation bled through in the tightness of her jaw and the sharpness in her eyes—not aimed at anyone in particular, but at the entire situation itself.
Ulrich lifted a hand in a casual wave as Zara stepped in behind them. She did not acknowledge him. Her arms remained crossed, her expression closed, gaze fixed elsewhere.
At the center of them all stood the one who had spoken.
Prince Mark.
He was encased in G.E.A.R. The armor sealed his body completely, flawless and immaculate, leaving not a single seam or vulnerability exposed. Where his eyes should have been, two radiant golden lenses burned steadily, brighter and more refined than standard G.E.A.R optics, their glow unwavering. The plating was lighter in profile yet unmistakably superior, composed of perfectly interlocked segments that moved with silent precision. Intricate engravings traced every surface, not merely decorative but purposeful—channels of luminous energy flowing through them in disciplined, controlled patterns, restrained power rather than excess. Every line spoke of authority, of military dominance honed to its apex. This was not just any G.E.A.R. for a Noble. This was the pinnacle of a nation's might, forged for its prince alone.
"The VIPs?" Quincy muttered, stunned.
Prince Mark stepped forward, his presence commanding without effort. "I do not believe titles or class distinctions matter any longer," he said evenly. "Demons are invading our world. No one here wants that. We are already agreed—we will help."
He glanced back at the others.
"I'll do whatever my brother decides," Zara said with a small, indifferent shrug.
"I am not particularly useful in direct combat," the Emperor added calmly. "However, my imperial knights and my attendant are at your disposal." He gestured toward Tianteng and his guards without ceremony.
Samwell let out a sharp scoff. "I don't want to work with any of you," he said bluntly. "I think that has been made abundantly clear. But if cooperation is the price of returning home, then so be it. Consider this a very temporary alliance."
Even crossed his arms. "Wouldn't have it any other way."
The tension between them was unmistakable, thick enough to weigh on the room. Matthew, despite clearly wanting no part of any of this, seemed quietly relieved to at least stand on the same side as his brother, if only briefly.
Quincy exhaled, a small but genuine sigh of relief escaping her. "Thank you," she said. "You have no idea how much this helps."
Some of the strain visibly left her shoulders.
Then it vanished.
Annabel's head snapped toward the city's center. Samwell stiffened. Matthew flinched. Even's eyes narrowed. Clara froze.
"What's happening?" Xain asked, unsettled by their sudden reactions.
"Something's… here…" Samwell said quietly.
For the first time in a very long while, the patriarch of the Mathers family sounded afraid.