Chapter 179: The Eagle

  The air was filled with an unnatural miasma, swirling like a living thing as it clung to the ruined earth beneath.

  A few meters away from the fissure, Hector stood at the forefront, his noble attire contrasting sharply with the grim battlefield. Beside him, Jet, Samir, and Stewart wore hardened expressions, their weapons at the ready.

  Behind them, officers worked swiftly to set up barricades, ensuring that no civilians wandered too close to the chaos unfolding before them.

  The ground trembled, and the miasma shuddered violently before splitting apart like a parting sea. From within the dark fog, more scorpions skittered forth, their chitinous bodies gleaming under the flickering lantern light. Their movements were erratic, their red eyes burning with an eerie hunger.

  Hector’s grip on the situation remained firm. He could tell that these creatures weren’t at the level of a pseudo, but that hardly mattered.

  To an untrained mundane, even one of these things could be a death sentence. He flexed his arms, the flesh warping as his right turned into a broad, metallic shield while his left became a gleaming blade.

  “Prepare yourselves,” he commanded, his voice steady.

  Jet adjusted his stance, the bronze spear in his hands radiating a dim glow. Samir held his lantern high, its golden flames flickering ominously as ethereal chains rattled inside. Stewart’s tongue, now glowing in a cyan light, flickered around him, moving like a serpent coiling for the strike.

  The battle began in an instant.

  A scorpion lunged, its tail whipping toward Hector in a deadly arc. He moved with fluid precision, raising his shield-arm and taking the full brunt of the attack.

  The impact sent a shockwave through his arm, but his body barely flinched. In the same motion, his sword-arm slashed out, severing the tail in a clean cut.

  The scorpion screeched, rearing back, but Hector pressed forward, morphing his shield-arm into a second blade. With a single powerful strike, he cleaved through its exoskeleton, cutting it apart with brutal efficiency.

  Another scorpion rushed toward Stewart. The lieutenant didn’t hesitate—his cyan-glowing tongue shot forward, wrapping around the creature’s body and constricting it in an iron grip. It screeched, thrashing violently, but the restraint left it vulnerable.

  Jet capitalized on the opening, his bronze spear piercing through the immobilized creature’s underbelly from the side as he crouched. Their solid teamwork was obvious.

  Before he could pull his weapon free, another scorpion lunged from behind, both massive claws snapping forward, poised to slice him in half.

  Jet’s eyes widened.

  Then, in a blur of movement, Hector stepped in front of him, raising both arms as they shifted back into shields. The scorpion’s claws crashed against him with a force that shook the ground, but Hector stood firm, the impact barely moving him an inch.

  “Move,” Hector ordered.

  Jet spun, using the momentum to slash his spear across the scorpion’s exposed side, splitting its armor. Stewart lunged in with his short sword, stabbing deep into the wounded creature. It let out a final shriek before collapsing into a twitching heap.

  Samir lashed his golden chains forward, wrapping around another charging scorpion, his lantern flaring as the chains ignited with an intense flame.

  The creature screeched in agony, struggling against the ethereal binds. Hector wasted no time, shifting his shield back into a blade and driving it straight through the creature’s head, silencing it instantly.

  The battlefield fell into momentary stillness.

  The officers, though victorious, were winded—sweat dripped down their brows, and their breathing was heavy. The battle had been swift, but each encounter drained them further. They had fought hard, but there was no telling how many more creatures lurked within the miasma.

  Hector glanced over the team, noting their fatigue. He frowned.

  “Take a breather if you need it,” he told them, his tone firm but considerate. “Don’t push too hard.”

  Jet wiped his brow, nodding. Stewart cracked his neck, exhaling sharply, while Samir steadied his grip on the lantern.

  Hector’s gaze remained locked onto the fissure, his senses heightened. The battle wasn’t over. More would come. He could handle prolonged combat, but these men weren’t like him. He couldn’t let them fall to corruption or exhaustion.

  Abel wouldn’t be happy.

  The ground trembled violently as the fissure pulsated with a deep, guttural groan, sending ripples of unease through the already exhausted officers.

  Then, with an ear-splitting crack, something massive began to emerge. The sheer size of it caused the fragile opening to collapse under its own weight, sending chunks of earth crumbling down into the abyss.

  Dust and debris filled the air as the hole sealed itself shut, cutting off whatever lay beneath—but that didn’t matter anymore.

  Because the true threat was now standing before them.

  The monstrous scorpion that had crawled forth was unlike anything they had seen. Towering above them, its jagged carapace was layered with thick, spiked armor covered in dark moss, as if it had been growing undisturbed in the depths of the earth for countless years.

  Its underbelly, though still appearing weaker in comparison, looked significantly tougher than the previous scorpions they had faced.

  Then it moved.

  The clicking of its massive claws sent out a deep, vibrating sound wave—low, discordant, and unnatural. It wasn’t just noise. It was a pulse of something deeper, something primal.

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  Jet, Samir, and Stewart staggered back, their breaths hitching as an unshakable fear gripped their bodies. It crawled into their bones, whispering danger into their very instincts.

  Their knees nearly buckled, and the officers behind them were worse off. Some of them fell to the ground, trembling, their faces drained of color.

  How were they supposed to fight this?

  Hector remained standing, unaffected by the fear-inducing pulse. His pseudo body gave him a natural resilience against this intimidation, but even then, his instincts screamed at him.

  This thing was different. The overwhelming physicality of it, the sheer presence—it dwarfed everything else they had encountered.

  Cracking his neck, he exhaled sharply.

  “This thing is out of our league,” he stated, his voice steady but firm. “Step back.”

  The trio didn’t argue. They weren’t stupid. They could feel the overwhelming difference in strength. Trying to fight this thing head-on was suicide.

  Instead, they immediately took action, barking orders to the officers under them.

  “Get those corpses into town!” Jet commanded.

  Stewart nodded, his usual casual demeanor gone as he pointed to himself and the other Lieutenants. “We’re staying back to monitor the fight. If things get worse, we’re calling for a full retreat.”

  The officers hesitated for a moment, torn between duty and fear, but they ultimately obeyed.

  They scrambled to gather the remains of the smaller scorpions, quickly retreating toward Reinhart, their hurried footsteps echoing against the now-emptied battlefield.

  But Hector didn’t move.

  He rolled his shoulders. His eyes locked onto the beast as it clicked its pincers again, its many crimson eyes watching him with a strange, almost curious hunger.

  It wasn’t attacking yet. It was assessing him.

  Good.

  Because he was doing the same.

  Hector exhaled.

  He was ready for the clash.

  Hector rushed forward, sending a testing slash that sent Clang! into the air, vibrating through his being. But that didn't stop his second strike, which was also blocked before he jumped back.

  Hector’s entire body tensed as he watched the monstrous scorpion reel back from his attacks.

  Every collision of his metallic limbs against its armored body sent out sharp, grating echoes, the sound of metal grinding against metal. Sparks flew with each impact, but no matter how many times he struck, the beast showed no signs of weakening.

  It was like fighting a living fortress.

  Then, in a blur of motion, the scorpion’s massive claw swung forward. He barely had time to react, raising both of his arms defensively as it crashed into him with devastating force.

  Bang!

  The impact sent him flying back, his body rolling across the dirt before he skidded to a stop. He groaned, forcing himself to his feet as frustration boiled inside of him.

  This… this was going to be a long fight.

  He exhaled sharply, preparing to charge again, when suddenly—

  A sharp cry split the sky.

  "Kyah!"

  The sound was so piercing, so unnatural, that for a moment, everything else stopped.

  Hector’s heart pounded as his instincts screamed at him. Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his head to the sky.

  And there—descending from the heavens—was a being beyond his comprehension.

  A massive, ethereal eagle with four enormous wings and a singular, piercing eye stared down at them, its form radiating a presence that didn’t belong to this world.

  Its feathers shimmered like liquid silver, shifting between existence and transparency as if it were straddling the line between the material and something far beyond. The mere sight of it sent chills down Hector’s spine.

  This… this thing…

  Was it a beast? A spirit? A divine entity?

  It didn’t matter.

  Because it was far stronger than him. He could feel a power obviously above his, but most definitely not on Abel’s level.

  Jet, Sami, and Stewart had frozen in place, their eyes wide with sheer disbelief. Their hands trembled at their weapons, but not from battle-readiness—no, this was something else. Their minds screamed at them to run, to flee from this overwhelming force, but their bodies refused to move.

  Then, the eagle moved.

  With a swift beat of its wings, it shot downward like a divine spear, its razor-sharp talons extending forward.

  The scorpion barely had time to react.

  CRACK!

  The ground trembled as the eagle struck, its claws piercing straight through the armored beast’s back and deep into the earth below.

  A sickening squelch echoed across the battlefield as blood and viscera splattered in every direction, the sheer force of the impact sending Hector stumbling back several steps.

  Jet and Stewart weren’t so lucky.

  They were thrown off their feet, their bodies tumbling across the dirt as a powerful gust from the eagle’s descent washed over them.

  They barely managed to regain their footing, their hearts racing, their hands clutching at their weapons as if those could somehow protect them from whatever this thing was.

  Then, as effortlessly as it had descended, the eagle rose again.

  With a single, elegant movement, it pulled its talons free and landed just in front of the scorpion’s corpse. Dust swirled around its massive form, its singular eye scanning the battlefield with eerie precision.

  And then—its gaze locked onto Hector.

  Hector’s breath hitched.

  Cold sweat rolled down the side of his face as the eagle focused on him, its otherworldly presence washing over him in waves. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run—to flee as far as he could.

  But he couldn't.

  He just stood there, staring up at the being that had just effortlessly slaughtered a monster he could barely scratch.

  Was it going to kill him next?

  Hector’s muscles tensed further as the massive eagle shifted, its piercing, singular eye locking onto him like a predator analyzing prey.

  The weight of its gaze alone made his skin crawl, and he wasn’t the only one feeling it—Jet and Stewart were still frozen in place, their faces pale, their bodies stiff as if trapped in invisible chains.

  Then, the eagle spoke.

  "Where is Mayor Elliot?"

  Its voice was deep and resonant, carrying an unnatural weight to it. The sheer power in its tone made Hector’s bones vibrate as if the words themselves carried some strange authority beyond human comprehension.

  Jet’s head snapped up at the mention of his father’s name. His initial shock was quickly replaced with suspicion, his grip on the bronze spear tightening.

  "Who are you?" Jet demanded, stepping forward despite the fear clawing at his spine. "What do you want with my father?"

  The eagle remained still for a long moment, its massive form exuding a strange sense of contemplation, as if it was piecing something together. Then, it let out a low hum—a noise that sent a fresh wave of unease through the air.

  And then—it shook its head.

  "Ah," it rumbled, almost amused. "I had forgotten."

  Before anyone could react, the eagle’s shimmering form began to distort. Its entire body blurred, as if being sucked into the singular eye at its center. The massive wings collapsed inward, feathers dissolving into streams of golden light that coiled around its body like ribbons of energy.

  Then—just like that—the monstrous avian was gone.

  In its place stood a young man.

  He was dark-skinned, his dreadlocks cascading over his shoulders in thick, neatly kept strands. His features were sharp, his presence both composed and effortless, but what stood out most was his eye.

  One glowed faintly with a brown and golden hue, flickering like a dying ember in the dim light.

  The other looked completely normal.

  Jet, still gripping his spear, eyed the man warily, his mind racing. His gaze then flickered downward, locking onto the deep blue robes the stranger wore. His breath hitched.

  It was the same type of robe Abel had worn when he first arrived in Reinhart.

  Jet’s fingers twitched around the shaft of his spear. Was this man… connected to Abel?

  The stranger—now fully settled into his human form—smoothed out his robes and let out a soft chuckle, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

  "Forgive my entrance," he said, his voice far more natural now, though still carrying an air of quiet authority. "I suppose that was a bit dramatic, wasn’t it?"

  No one answered.

  The tension in the air was still thick.

  The man didn’t seem bothered by it, though. Instead, he smiled, his golden eye glinting faintly in the light.

  "My name is Abu," he finally introduced himself, inclining his head slightly. "And I am the newly appointed Head… of the Institute."

  The way he said it—with complete confidence, as if his presence alone should be enough to make everything clear—sent a ripple of uncertainty through the group.

  Hector exchanged a glance with Jet, who still looked skeptical.

  The Institute?

  What the hell was happening?