Uruma exhaled slowly, his eyes narrowing.
"She's a Beyond Mythical Threat… We cannot ignore her."
Scene shifts to Dravon Solmere.
He lounged in his private cabin aboard his obsidian-black ship, the room lit only by the faint glow of floating lantern crystals. Calm, unbothered, Dravon gently swirled the cup of steaming tea in his hand.
The door creaked open. Heavy boots stepped inside.
Dravon didn't look up. "What's up?"
The man stiffened. "I'm keeping an eye on Orimo Kuzan—just as you ordered. But… there's a problem."
Dravon raised the cup to his lips. "What's it?"
The man swallowed. "He's in Morgan Tarek's territory."
PFFFFTTT—
Dravon spit the tea directly onto the man's face, eyes widening.
"What the hell is he doing there!?"
The man wiped tea from his cheeks. "He took one of Morgan Tarek's scientific facilities. And now… he seems to be preparing to take Morgan down."
Dravon froze. Then laughed under his breath.
"There's no way he can beat Morgan."
He placed the cup down and stood up, the air in the cabin growing heavier — the kind of heaviness that warned the world something catastrophic was about to move.
He sighed. "Keep an eye on him as always. I'm going there… just in case."
Dravon stepped past the man, cloak dragging lightning-like streaks across the floor.
"Let's head to Emka," he declared.
The ship's hull groaned, as if even the metal understood the weight of his decision.