Mirabella stood near the precipice of the highest building on the New York University campus. The apocalyptic wind whipped her dark coat around her ankles, but she remained as immovable as a mountain. Behind her stood Carl and Grace, their sharp gazes fixed on the retreating figures of the Eagle Academy's team and the military platoon, who were now cautiously heading outward through the heavily fortified gates.
"Big Sister, I still can't believe it." Carl said, holding up his hands and staring at his palms in quiet awe. He clenched his fists, feeling the terrifying, razor-sharp strength of a Lv400 Assassin coursing through his veins. But beneath that lethal precision lay something else, a heavy, suffocating aura—something distinctly ancient in him. It wasn't merely a standard bloodline, which granted pure elemental or conceptual authority; it pulsed with the wild, unfathomable magnitude of the ancient god and primal deities of old, a legacy of raw, unfiltered supremacy.
