His heart thrashed against his chest like a war drum at the thought of a serious fight.

David considered cutting his stop at the Dwarven Sanctuary short and rushing straight to the most dangerous Rift, but he decided against it when Maja teleported them back to the Sanctuary. He caught the life signals of Melach, Torb, and other higher authorities gathered in the town hall.

The council meeting is still on. Maybe they’re talking about the Rifts and how to leverage them to their advantage.

That sounded interesting, so he parted ways with the others. Maja looked like she had something to say, but her lips remained closed.

David strode through the bustling streets, trying to get a feel for Vitae and grimaced when its desire hit him. Not only was Vitae Nihilum overly eager to devour the entire Sanctuary—especially the Familia and the Fortress’ statue, which must have been built while he was busy fortifying his foundation—but it also emitted a heavy, earthy pressure that reminded him of the Dwarven God. Probably because the statue contained a trace of his Divinity.

He ignored the statue and Vitae’s desire and strode across the market square, combining the intel provided by the life signals and Vitae for more experiments.

So it is like that? he mused, his interest piqued as he approached the entrance to the town hall.

The double doors were heavily guarded by several Mountain Defenders, elven archers, tirac warriors, and other races he was more or less familiar with. However, there were also some beings he had never met before.

The guards’ calm posture shifted as he closed in. First, a few Protectors’ hands moved smoothly to their weapons. The archers retrieved arrows, whereas the mages and other magical Classes called upon their energies. Only the Mountain Defenders remained unmoving. Their dark eyes landed on David, a deep grunt laced with displeasure escaping their lips.

“Let him through,” one of them barked.

At first, it looked like nobody wanted to listen. The warriors unsheathed their weapons and emitted a grayish hue that carried a heavy weight, whereas the elves nocked their arrows without a second thought.

“We cannot block him even if we tried. Don’t bother if you do not want to humiliate your Lord,” another one said in a gruff tone. “And that would be the best outcome. In the worst case, you and your Lords will die.”

The Mountain Defenders looked displeased and uncomfortable as they spoke, but that was all the more reason to be curious.

“Are they talking about the Rifts? Or is the council meeting about something else?” David asked, not minding the glares thrown at him a tiny bit. “There are a few people with acceptable strength in there. They’re the rulers of the other Sanctuaries, aren’t they?”

He’d heard something about an alliance between Sanctuaries and settlements. The details never reached him, but that might be because David never asked. Alliances were great and all, but he doubted anyone would survive if someone of Zachariah’s caliber were to attack.

“Acceptable?!” one of the elves hissed. The elven man snarled something at him in another language, but all the archer received in return was a smile.

“Barely acceptable, to be precise,” David shrugged. “And you do realize that insulting someone in another language is rather useless. How am I supposed to feel insulted if I don’t even know what you said?”

His smile widened a little, and he released a trace of killing intent. He considered unleashing Bloodlust for a moment, but he didn’t plan to traumatize the elven archer. There were already enough people with post-traumatic stress disorder in the Dwarven Sanctuary. Adding more pressure on the Priests wouldn’t help anyone.

Additionally, a trace of killing intent was more than enough. David’s smile never ceased, but the elven archer’s expression derailed and transformed into one of utter terror in a moment. The strength in his legs faded and they buckled. The elf slumped to the ground, bow and arrow clattering beside him.

“That’s what I meant,” the first Mountain Defender groaned. “You shall not face the unknown mountain until you know how deep he dwells and how tall he reaches.”

David raised an eyebrow. The Mountain Defender clicked his tongue reproachfully and pointed toward the door.

“You may go inside. The Primal has been waiting for you, but…” The Mountain Defender looked uncomfortable for a second. “…do not cause too much trouble. You are strong, but even the strong should not take advantage of the power of the earthen’s blessing.”

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As weird as ever.

David stepped past the guardians and entered the town hall. He heard the elves as they gathered around the archer who’d been graced with the presence of his killing intent, and smiled at the murmurs reaching his ears.

Being powerful was great. However, being stronger than those who considered themselves powerful was even better. Demonstrating to those arrogant fools how easily he could squash them was great.

Well… I am just as arrogant, he snickered.

Which is probably worse.

David shrugged and followed the hallway to another large door that led him straight to the strong life signals. He stepped inside with a bright smile and called upon a mere trace of Vitae to grasp the depths of the powers seated around a dark, wooden roundtable.

How much Vitae would I get from devouring them all? Four units… maybe five?

It was hard to be accurate as he had yet to fine-tune his senses to the new sensation brought forth by Vitae. However, one thing was clear; almost everyone seated before him hoarded great power—more power than their life signals would suggest.

They didn’t seem to notice his entrance as they kept talking. Only Torb glanced at him briefly before returning his attention to the human speaking with him.

“What do you suggest we should do? Five Champions went missing in the last two months, and nobody knows where they went,” the human asked seriously.

Torb exhaled heavily. “I’ve heard of the problem, and I’ve been in contact with Fortress about it, but even the all-seeing eyes of our Patrons couldn’t find them. Apparently, not even the Champions’ Patron Gods know where they are… and it fuels their worries for the future, making them more apprehensive about what awaits the Earthen Union.”

“But to answer your question, we should stay in contact with all Champions to inform one another if something odd happens. We have a Portaligist in the Sanctuary, and I’m sure there is a Portal Mage on your land as well. If we utilize their powers, we can aid each other in times of need,” the Prime Champion explained with a flat smile, his eyes drifting to David as he added, “But that may not be necessary. We should have no problem waking up the others now that our Healer is present.”

The voices quieted down, and several men and women from varying races turned to David. Some were instantly on edge, predictably surprised by the sudden appearance of a stranger, while others—such as Melach—looked relieved. It had been quite a while since David had seen his elven friend, but Melach looked tired and older than before. Incredibly tired, and… vigilant of the older elves seated beside him.

Looks like the meeting is not about the Dwarven Sanctuary’s expansion. Oops. He tilted his head as he digested Torb’s words.

Are they talking about William? But the Patron Gods should know about that. They would tell their Champions about the threat of the Fragment Holder, right?

He shrugged inwardly and smiled at the prying eyes of the gathered Champions.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” David offered with an exaggerated bow and flashed his teeth. “To think I’d meet this many Champions in one place. What an honor!”

Everyone with at least one functioning brain cell could tell that he was being sarcastic. Someone snorted in response while others glared at him. However, David approached the table, slid an empty chair back, and slumped down.

He leaned back and smiled at Torb with casual grace. “Here is your Healer. What’s the issue?”

A deep growl resounded, and a heavy presence flooded the room, urging David to glance calmly at a giant of a dwarf—burly and clearly two heads taller than Torb.

Should I do something about that? he wondered, still seated casually even as the tall giant jumped to his feet.

Something within him stirred, and a smile graced his lips. The Sacred Beast wanted to teach the dwarf a lesson, so David stayed still.

The pressure in the room was overwhelmed and repelled as the beast’s ferocious aura surged from David. It squashed the dwarf’s pressure and expanded explosively, pushing the tall dwarf into retreat until he slumped back onto his chair. The dwarf tried to retaliate several times in quick succession, but blackish-violet energy crackled across his skin, burning his hair and flesh before anything could happen.

The dwarf turned to Torb and scoffed but stopped retaliating when the Prime Champion shook his head.

David felt Electra’s desire to continue and humiliate the tall dwarf—to push him to the ground and watch him grovel, tears streaming down his cheeks as he begged for forgiveness.

You sassy little snake. I like that.

He smiled, barely glancing at the tall dwarf as he muttered, “Fucking loser.”

The Sacred Beast’s presence retracted, and his attention returned to Torb.

“So, what’s the issue?”

Torb was still shaking his head at the other dwarven Champion, but his gaze flicked to David.

“We need your healing.”

He’d guessed that already, but it hardly made any sense. They had more than enough Healers in the Dwarven Sanctuary—several hundred at least, surely more than 1,000 if one included a few Iron Ranks. Among the Healers, there were also more than enough talented natives and Protectors with the means to restore broken bodies. They may be slower than David, but their work was not that bad.