The next morning, a line of sleek black cars waited outside the hotel entrance.

They were here to escort the Obsidian team out of Drakenfall.

To everyone’s surprise, Xander hadn’t left early. Instead, he chose to ride out with them.

A young man from the Drakenfall municipal office stood by the entrance, looking awkward but earnest.

"Thank you for everything you’ve done for Drakenfall,” he said, bowing slightly. “You’re always welcome here.”

He was clearly just a minor civil servant—sent not out of honor, but out of obligation.

Vince offered him a polite smile. “Just doing our job.”

One by one, the team boarded the cars.

Kaia let out a long sigh. “We nearly died in this goddamn city, and this is our grand farewell?”

Millers rolled his eyes, folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back. “They’re afraid of the Windsor family..”

He snorted. “Anyway, once the city’s really under siege, those Windsor bastards will be the first to run.”

Vince and Rosaline said nothing. But beside them, Xander gave a small cough.

“Hey. Watch your mouth,” he said mildly. “Don’t go corrupting the rookies.”

Kaia and Millers both turned to glance at Axel, who smirked slightly.

Then Xander turned to him. “Axel, ride with me.”

He was heading back to Everton. Rosaline, on the other hand, they would be traveling south.

Axel’s home was in Dune—much closer to Everton.

Annabelle, who hadn’t met Xander before, looked nervous. She could tell right away—this old man wasn’t ordinary. He radiated a quiet, formidable presence.

As the car pulled away from the curb, Axel sat in silence, gazing out the window.

Xander watched him for a moment, then leaned back, lost in thought.

He hadn’t forgotten that Axel had just graduated this year.

Students were always the same—idealistic, fierce, and painfully black-and-white. That could be a strength, but also a dangerous weakness.

It was the kind of idealism that made you want to change the world… or get crushed by it.

Xander wanted to say something to ease the burden on the kid’s shoulders. Something that might help him hold onto that fire without burning out.

But… Xander wasn’t exactly a wise old sage. Giving lectures wasn’t really his style.

After a long stretch of silence, the car rolled slowly away from the hotel entrance. Then Xander finally spoke.

“Axel, are you disappointed in the Windsor family? In the upper class?”

He didn’t need to ask. He already knew the answer.

Back when Jude faked his suicide, and the Windsor family moved to shield him, Axel had felt it.

“I figured,” Xander said, chuckling softly. “When I was your age, I was the same. I thought, ‘It doesn’t matter who you are—if you’ve done wrong, you pay for it.’

"Jude should’ve died, and anyone protecting him should fall with him, along with all the nepotism and filth behind it.”

Axel said nothing, his shoulders had eased slightly.

Xander glanced at him and continued. “But you’re forgetting the world we live in, kid. You’re forgetting what kind of situation Krythos is actually in.”

He leaned back, voice steady but heavy. “We’re surrounded by enemies. Trapped behind the Wall like rats. If we had the strength to strike back, we wouldn’t be huddling behind barricades like this. But we don’t. Not yet.”

He turned his head and looked Axel in the eye. “So ask yourself, what can we really do to a man like Brooks?”

Xander paused, letting that question hang.

“Awakeners are still human, Axel. And like every human, they carry selfishness. Not all of us are saints like Tristan—guys like that are rare as diamonds. But when someone strong rises, that strength becomes everyone’s shield.”

He tapped his chest with a weathered hand. “In this era, power doesn’t just protect one person. Sometimes, the world doesn’t let us act on ideals alone.”

And this... all of this—he shouldn’t even be saying it out loud. If the wrong ears hear, it could ruin him.

Axel turned to him, genuinely moved. “Thank you for being honest with me, Mr. Xander.”

Xander gave him a rough grin. “Smart kid. I just don’t want you stewing in resentment. That poison rots the heart. You start thinking the whole world’s crooked...”

He paused again. “That’s how the Holy Light Organization recruits.”

Axel blinked. “Holy Light?”

The name was unfamiliar.

“You’ll hear more soon enough. Just think of it as a cult.....”

He looked like he was about to say more—but the car suddenly slowed.

From the front seat, Annabelle lifted her head, eyes widening. “What’s that…?”

The road ahead was blocked.

Both sides of the street were overflowing with fresh flowers. Rows upon rows of them, bright with color. Dozens of hand-painted banners hung among the blooms:

“Farewell, Obsidian Team! We’ll Never Forget What You Did For Us!”

“Thank You for Saving Our Lives!”

The car crept forward. Men, women, children—entire families—lined the sidewalks. Their eyes were sincere. Many held signs. Some of the younger kids ran alongside the car, waving frantically, calling out their thanks.

Inside the convoy, every voice fell silent.

Vince, Rosaline, Millers—even Xander—sat motionless, watching through the tinted windows.

No lecture was needed.

And somewhere near the end of the crowd stood Troy, red-eyed and smiling. He raised a hand high in farewell as the vehicles rolled by.

......

Elsewhere, Jamin sat in a dim Windsor family lounge.

The family had thrown money at the problem, silencing reporters and Whisper Syndicate.

But then a subordinate quietly slipped him a tablet, streaming footage from Drakenfall. The sendoff. The streets full of grateful citizens. The banners. The cheers.

Jamin stared at it, face slowly draining of color.

“A bunch of unruly fools,” he spat. He turned away, eyes narrowed—cold and calculating.

......

In the back seat of the car, Xander blinked in surprise. “Wait… you can transform into a mutant beast?”

Axel nodded calmly.

“I’ve never heard of that before,” Xander muttered, clearly thrown. “Is there no damn limit to your All Things Simulation?”

“There is,” Axel replied. “Right now, my current strength only allows me to simulate three awakening skills.”

He glanced at Xander, then added with a bit of hesitation, “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you. I don’t know much about fourth-level awakeners. I figured you could help me understand more.”

Xander gave a low chuckle. “Fourth-level? You’ve still got some way to go, kid. Over 2,000 Force and three awakened combat skills? You’re already stronger than a lot of low-tier level fours.”

“But that doesn’t make you a true fourth-level awakener. Not even close. The biggest gap between the third and fourth levels is something else entirely—Force liquefaction.”

Axel’s eyes narrowed. “Liquefaction?”

“Exactly,” Xander said, shifting slightly in his seat. “Awakened skills give you the ability to compress Force. That’s the precursor. The human body’s meridians act like pipes—they can carry the Force in and out. But the real limit comes from one place—your Origin Pool.”

He pointed vaguely at Axel’s stomach. “That little thing in your gut is what defines how far you can go. It has a cap. And when you hit it, you either stop growing… or you compress your Force—condense it into something far more potent. Like turning gas into liquid.”

“More Force in less space,” Axel muttered, catching on quickly.

“Exactly,” Xander nodded. “That’s what real fourth-level awakeners do. So yeah, if you run into someone with 2,000 Force who’s already liquefied their pool? You probably won’t win.”

Axel frowned slightly. “Even with the same numbers?”

“Numbers mean jack shit when your Force is still gas and theirs is liquid. The only exception are those fourth-level guys who got there with pills and injections. Glass cannons. One hit and they fall apart.”

Axel raised an eyebrow. “So I’ll need to buy a compression technique for when I’m ready?”

Xander grinned. “Smart. That’s right. It’s not that expensive—two million bucks. You can afford it.”

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