The sound of glass shattering rang through the empty training hall.
Eron's fist was still buried in the remains of the reinforced window, shards falling in a slow rain to the polished floor.
He didn't stop there.
A metal table went flying, slamming against the far wall hard enough to bend its legs. The rack of weapons toppled, blades and spears clattering across the ground in a chaotic chorus. His breathing was harsh, each exhale hissing between clenched teeth.
The kids were back. They were back.
Lucian. Vyn. Evelyn. Silas.
The image of them stepping onto the battlefield, alive and stronger than before, burned through his mind like a sickness. He'd watched them walk away from that SSS rank gate months ago, and that had been his mistake—letting them live. He should have finished it there. He should have made sure no trace of them remained.
Instead, he had hesitated. And now…
Now that hesitation had cost him everything.
