Standing in front of Zephyr and Lennox was a massive figure.
Not just tall. Not just big.
Heavy.
The kind of presence that made the air feel thicker just by standing there.
An Anakim.
They were still human. At least, that was what the old records said. But the Anakims themselves had long stopped calling themselves that. To them, they were something else now. Something above.
And the one standing here proved that point without saying a word.
He looked human in shape, yes. Two arms. Two legs. A head.
But everything else pushed far past normal.
His size alone was enough to unsettle anyone. He stood taller than the trees around him, his body wide and packed with raw strength. Every movement carried weight, like the ground had to accept him step by step.
His skin was rough. Not smooth like a normal person. It was covered in thick body hair, dense and compact. From a distance, it almost looked like fur layered over his body.
Then there was the blood.
It wasn't just a stain. It was everywhere.
Across his chest. His arms. His hands.
Fresh. Dried. Mixed.
The kind of blood that told a story without words. He had already met others before them. And those meetings didn't end well.
Then came the face.
That was where the beast showed itself the most.
His mouth was wider than normal, stretching slightly beyond what should be natural. And from his lower jaw, two thick fangs pushed upward.
Long.
Curved.
They crossed over his upper lip and almost reached the base of his nose.
Not decoration. Not mutation by accident.
Something deeper.
Something built for tearing.
Just looking at him was enough to shake most people. For many, this alone would have been the end. No fight. No attempt. Just quit and leave.
And honestly, no one would blame them.
Up in the air, Zephyr hovered, his wings beating slower now.
He didn't look at the Anakim first.
He looked at the person in its hand.
The one being held.
Dangling.
Still alive.
The man didn't look badly injured at first glance. No deep cuts. No missing limbs. Nothing obvious.
But the way he was being held told the real story.
The Anakim had him by the head.
Not the shoulder. Not the arm.
The head.
Fingers wrapped around his skull like it was nothing more than a handle.
That alone made him look small. Helpless.
Like the fight had already ended before it even began.
Zephyr's eyes narrowed as he took in the details.
The robe.
Familiar.
Recognition clicked.
'That's the Tamer…'
His gaze sharpened.
'He must have been the one controlling that Griffin…'
The pieces came together fast.
The Griffin.
The sudden attack.
The white spear.
'Then that spear… the one that brought the Griffin down…'
'It came from him…'
From the Anakim.
Zephyr felt something cold run through him at that thought.
He replayed it in his head for a second.
The distance.
The height.
The speed.
That wasn't luck.
That wasn't chance.
That was power.
Raw, terrifying power.
'How much strength does it take to throw something like that… that far… and still hit…?'
The answer didn't come.
It didn't need to.
His body reacted before his mind finished the thought.
A small step back.
Just one.
Even in his Griffin form, even with the wings, even with the advantage of the air…
He knew.
He couldn't take that thing head-on.
Not like this.
But that single step didn't go unnoticed.
The Anakim moved.
No warning.
No buildup.
His hand tightened.
Crush!!!
The sound was sharp.
Wet.
Final.
The Tamer's body went stiff in an instant.
Blood spilled out, running down the Anakim's hand. Thick. Dark. Mixed with fragments that shouldn't be seen.
For a brief moment, everything felt still.
Then—
Thud.
The body dropped.
Lifeless.
Discarded.
Like it had no value left.
The Anakim didn't even look at it again.
Instead, he raised his hand.
The same blood-covered hand.
And stretched it out.
Towards Zephyr.
Zephyr didn't wait.
The moment the Anakim raised his hand, instinct took over.
His wings snapped wide.
He flapped once, hard.
Air burst beneath him.
His body shot sideways, fast enough to clear the space he had been in just a second ago.
Good call.
Because right after—something shifted.
The large spear that was still lodged deep inside the dead Griffin trembled.
At first, it was small. A slight shake.
Then it moved.
Not just the spear.
The Griffin's corpse moved with it.
Dragged.
Pulled.
And not just that.
Loose stones. Broken branches. Chunks of dirt.
Everything around it lifted.
Like an invisible hand had grabbed the entire area and decided to pull.
All of it shot through the air.
Straight into the Anakim's outstretched hand.
The force behind it was clean. Controlled.
No wasted motion.
The spear slid free from the Griffin's body with a wet pull.
The Anakim caught it without looking.
Then he turned.
His eyes locked onto Zephyr.
Up in the air, Zephyr felt it.
That focus.
Heavy.
Like pressure pressing against his chest.
"What do you think we should do?" Lennox asked, his voice tight.
He already knew the answer. He just needed to hear it.
Zephyr didn't waste time pretending.
"What else do you want to do? We need to get out of here."
His wings beat harder.
Stronger.
He pushed upward, aiming for height, for distance, for anything that put space between them and that thing below.
For a moment, it worked.
They rose.
Air rushed past them.
The ground pulled away.
Then—something changed.
Zephyr felt it instantly.
A drag.
Subtle at first.
Then heavier.
'What is this?'
His rhythm broke for a split second.
His wings beat again. Harder this time.
But the weight didn't ease.
It increased.
Fast.
'Why is my body getting heavier?'
His muscles strained.
The air didn't feel right anymore.
It was like flying through something thick. Something that pushed back.
He forced another flap.
Powerful.
But instead of gaining ground—
They slowed.
Then dipped.
"What is going on?" Lennox asked, his voice rising now.
From his position, it felt wrong.
Every movement Zephyr made should have pushed them forward.
Instead, they were losing it.
Each flap carried effort.
But the result was backward.
Like something was dragging them down without touching them.
On the ground, the Anakim stood still.
No rush. No chase.
Just control.
His arm was stretched forward.
Hand open.
Pointing directly at Zephyr.
He held his hand in place for a brief moment, steady, controlled, like he was measuring the exact point where everything would break. Then he brought it down. Hard.
The effect was instant.
The pressure multiplied.
Zephyr's wings folded without his permission as the force crushed down on him. He lost the air. Lost the balance. Lost the fight against whatever was holding him.
Then he dropped.
Boom!
His body slammed into the ground, dirt bursting outward in all directions. The impact tore through the soft earth, sending chunks of soil and broken roots flying.
Lennox was thrown off his back the moment they hit. His body rolled across the ground before coming to a rough stop a few meters away.
The fall wasn't from as high as the Griffin's crash earlier, but it didn't matter. The force still bit deep.
Zephyr felt it more.
Every part of his body screamed under the pressure. Not just from the fall, but from what came after.
The weight didn't leave.
It stayed.
Pressed.
Crushing him into the ground like something invisible was sitting on his back.
He tried to move.
Nothing.
His claws dug into the dirt, wings twitching as he forced himself to rise, but the pressure pushed him back down again.
On the ground, the Anakim hadn't moved.
His arm was still stretched forward.
Still pointing.
Still controlling.
Zephyr lifted his head slightly, struggling against the force. His vision blurred for a moment before he focused.
He saw it.
What was coming next.
'What is this…?'
His thoughts tightened.
'Is this some kind of magic…? Gravity…?'
The answer didn't matter.
Because the real problem stood right in front of him.
The Anakim's other hand had moved.
The spear.
That massive bone-like weapon was now in his grip again.
And he was positioning it.
Aiming.
Right at Zephyr.
The angle was clean.
The distance was nothing.
'If that thing hits me… I'm done.'
The thought came sharp. Clear. No denial.
'I should quit… now.'
No pride. No hesitation left. Just survival.
But before he could act—
Something moved beside him.
Lennox.
He broke off from the side without warning.
Lennox didn't hesitate.
The moment he moved, he ran straight at the Anakim. No plan. No pause. Just raw instinct pushing him forward.
Strangely, the pressure that had pinned Zephyr down wasn't affecting him. His steps were heavy, but free. Each stride hit the ground hard as he closed the distance.
The Anakim noticed.
And he adjusted.
The spear shifted in his grip. The aim at Zephyr was dropped instantly.
Instead, he swung.
A wide, brutal motion.
Like someone striking a ball off the ground.
The spear cut through the air, heading straight for Lennox.
No room to dodge. No time to think.
So Lennox didn't.
He opened his arms.
And caught it.
The moment the spear hit him, the force drove straight through his body. His feet dug into the ground, carving deep trenches as he was pushed back. Dirt tore up beneath him, scattering behind his heels.
Crack!
His leg bones strained under the pressure. One of them shifted wrong, but he didn't stop.
He held on.
Tight.
Locked.
The spear didn't move past him.
It stopped.
For a brief second, everything paused.
Even the Anakim.
There was a flicker of surprise in his posture.
Something small had stopped his strike.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
He pulled.
The spear should have come free easily.
It didn't.
Lennox held firm, his arms wrapped around it like iron clamps. His body trembled, but his grip didn't break.
The Anakim pulled again. Harder.
Still nothing.
Now there was resistance.
Real resistance.
That changed things.
The Anakim shifted his stance and grabbed the spear with both hands. His muscles tightened as he put more strength into the pull.
But at that exact moment, something else changed.
The pressure on Zephyr vanished.
Just like that.
Gone.
The invisible weight lifted off him completely.
Back at the clash, the two forces met head-on.
One pulling.
One holding.
The ground beneath Lennox cracked further as he was dragged inches at a time, but he didn't let go. His body adjusted, tightening, locking into the force.
The ring did its work.
No pain.
No hesitation.
Only output.
The Anakim was stronger. That much was clear. But Lennox wasn't normal right now. His body kept adapting to the strain, forcing itself to keep up, refusing to break even as it should have.
The pull turned into a deadlock.
Neither side gave.
For a brief moment, they were equal.
That was enough to annoy him.
The Anakim's movement changed again.
He stopped pulling.
His leg lifted.
High.
A stomp. A simple, brutal solution. Crush the problem.
Lennox saw it coming.
But he couldn't move. Not without letting go.
At the same time, Zephyr had just regained control of his body.
His wings twitched as he pushed himself up, his vision snapping into focus.
And he saw it.
The raised foot.
About to come down.
Zephyr didn't think twice.
The moment he saw that foot about to come down, his wings snapped open and he launched forward. Fast. Direct. No hesitation.
He shot through the air like a bullet.
He drove his head straight into the Anakim.
Bang!
The hit landed clean.
The force pushed through the Anakim's upper body, catching him off balance. For a brief second, the giant staggered. Then his weight shifted wrong.
He fell.
Flat on his back.
The ground shook under him.
Zephyr didn't waste that opening.
"Quick, get on my back. Let's get out of here," he said, sharp and urgent.
Lennox didn't argue. Didn't hesitate.
He released the spear instantly and pushed off the ground. One jump. Clean. He landed on Zephyr's back and locked in.
That was enough.
Zephyr flapped hard.
The air caught under his wings as he forced himself upward, pushing for distance. Speed mattered now. Just get out.
Behind them, the Anakim was already moving.
Fast for his size.
He rose to his feet, his gaze snapping upward. He saw them.
"Roar!!!"
The sound ripped through the air.
Anger. Pure and heavy.
He reached down, grabbed the spear, and in one motion, brought it back.
Then he threw it.
The spear left his hand like a streak.
It tore through the air, cutting the distance fast. Too fast.
Up ahead, Lennox saw it first.
His eyes widened.
"Shit! Shit!! Shit...!!!"
The warning came late.
Zephyr felt it too.
The pressure behind him. The air splitting.
He reacted on instinct.
He tilted. Sharp. Sudden.
His body twisted mid-flight.
The spear passed. But not clean. It clipped his wing.
A deep graze.
The impact tore through feathers and flesh.
Zephyr's body jolted.
Pain hit. Real this time.
But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
He forced his wings to keep moving.
Behind them, another roar echoed.
Louder. Angrier.
The Anakim wasn't done.
But distance was growing. Slowly.
Bit by bit.
Zephyr pushed forward, ignoring the strain, ignoring the damage.
They flew.
Farther.
Faster.
But the injury was catching up.
His wing wasn't stable anymore. Each flap came uneven. Each push lost a little more control.
Their height dropped.
Slow at first.
Then steady.
They were descending.
Neither of them said it.
They both knew.
They couldn't keep this up.
The ground rose to meet them.
Fast.
Too fast.
Then—
Impact.
They crashed.
Hard.
Dirt exploded around them as their bodies tore into the ground and rolled forward.
The fall carried them straight into another fight already in motion.
Right into Rhyssa and Isla.
Unplanned.
Messy.
But perfectly timed.
It stopped everything for a second.
And just like that—
Isla was saved from an ending he wouldn't have lived down.