An oppressive, almost tangible hush descended upon the street the moment after Draco touched down. 

The suffocating silence, thick with the scent of ozone and dust, clung to every surface, muffling the distant sounds of the city and making the very air heavy. 

As the last particles of debris swirled and eventually settled, his figure began to rise gracefully from the miniature crater of his landing. 

Draco slowly straightened, his draconic wings, still spread from his landing, folded neatly against his back with an audible rustle of scales. 

He took a confident, measured stride, his eyes fixed on the unconscious forms of Lyra and Kaguya.

A few meters away, Erebus, observed Draco’s approach with a curious arch of a brow, a subtle wonder in his gaze at Draco’s apparent self-assurance. 

Beside him, Vito remained a silent, unreadable sentinel, his expression utterly blank. 

Yet, beneath Draco’s outwardly composed facade, a frantic rhythm pounded against his ribs, his heart hammering like a trapped bird desperate to escape its cage.

Just minutes prior, Draco had been enjoying a brief, restorative nap amidst the skeletal remains of some ruins along the northern road. 

His stomach, rumbling with the protest of a missed breakfast, had set his course for the northwestern camp, where he intended to procure a much-deserved meal. 

His simple plans, however, had been abruptly derailed. 

A team of low-level adventurers, acting as urgent couriers from the western reaches of the city, had burst into his vicinity. 

Their hurried movements and panicked whispers suggested a significant disturbance. 

Intrigued, Draco had stopped them, his curiosity overriding his hunger, and inquired about the cause of their haste.

They quickly relayed news of thunderous explosions echoing from the west, indicating a large-scale engagement. 

Recognizing the unique advantage of being able to fly, Draco, offered to scout the situation. 

However, before leaving, he had stated, that if he did not return within five minutes, it was a clear signal that the situation was serious, potentially beyond his control.

He had said this so reinforcements would come should the situation prove difficult.

Upon his arrival, the scene that unfolded before him had been nothing short of shocking: Lyra and Kaguya, two of his close allies, pitted themselves against Alfia, one of the dreaded champions of evilus, with Erebus and Vito as silent, grim spectators. 

They had seemed to be in the midst of a tense dialogue when, without warning, Lyra had hurled a bunch of explosive devices towards Alfia. 

The ensuing moments had blurred into a horrifying tableau of rapid action: a deafening detonation, a flash of blinding light, and then, Lyra and Kaguya lying unconscious on the ground, perilously close to being delivered a finishing blow by Alfia.

Draco’s mind had immediately begun to churn, piecing together the fragmented events, sifting through possibilities until a rudimentary, yet urgent, conclusion crystallized. 

Normally, his instincts would dictate a cautious retreat from any direct confrontation with any of  the evilus champions—Zald, Alfia, or Mors. 

Yet, the sight of his friends, vulnerable and exposed, ignited a different kind of resolve. 

Unlike his agonizing hesitation during the situation with Ottar, this situation presented a sliver of opportunity, a fragile window of leeway that demanded he break his usual protocols.

Firstly, Erebus, the shrewd leader of the Evilus, was on the scene. 

This presented a double-edged sword: Erebus could potentially be used as a hostage or a crucial diversion, creating an opening for escape. 

Conversely, Lyra and Kaguya, in their unconscious state, were liabilities, yet also potential bargaining chips or diversions themselves, albeit ones Draco was loath to exploit.

Secondly, the low-level adventurers he had encountered earlier were already en route to report to Riveria. 

If he failed to return within his self-imposed time limit, reinforcements, potentially strong ones, were a likely contingency. 

Lastly, the chaotic prelude to this confrontation appeared to be purely coincidental, devoid of any meticulous planning. 

This strongly suggested that Zald and Mors, the other two champions, were unlikely to be lurking nearby. 

If it was just Alfia, then, Draco reasoned, he might just be able to hold his own, perhaps even buy enough time to stage an escape with Lyra and Kaguya. 

Adding to this faint hope was the fact that Alfia, perpetually in a sealed state to preserve her fragile health, was unlikely to unleash her full, devastating power, risking a premature deterioration of her already compromised condition.

The heavy, expectant silence stretched for several more heartbeats, a taut wire pulled to its breaking point, before Erebus finally snapped it with an unnervingly jovial tone. 

"Draco, my friend, fancy meeting you here," he began, his previous contemplative demeanor dissolving into the familiar, disarmingly friendly persona of "Eren." 

He took a small, deliberate step forward, distancing himself slightly from Alfia, positioning himself a mere arm's length from Draco.

"Erebus," Draco muttered, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features at the evil gods unexpected cordiality.

"Eh, you can just call me Eren, we are friends after all," Erebus insisted, his smile widening. Draco, however, ignored the familiarity, his focus on the more immediate threat: Alfia, who remained motionless, a silent, powerful monument. 

Observing Draco’s fixed attention, Erebus showed no offense. 

Instead, his playful demeanour shifted, and he smoothly changed the subject.

"Anyway, do you perhaps know where I might find Ryuu-chan? Those girls weren't very helpful," Erebus inquired, a hint of genuine frustration in his voice. 

‘What does he want with her?’ Draco briefly wondered, but quickly dismissed the thought. 

‘More importantly, what will Alfia do if I act now? She can’t use large-scale magic if Erebus is so close’ he calculated, a plan beginning to form in the chaotic whirl of his thoughts.

"I do not know," Draco replied, his voice flat, emotionless.

Upon hearing his answer, Erebus’s expression momentarily clouded with disappointment. 

He turned, making a show of preparing to depart. 

In that precise instant, Draco's muscles coiled, taut as steel springs, and a faint, glow began to gather around him, magic flaring in silent preparation for a swift, decisive move.

But just as he was about to unleash his power, Erebus suddenly halted. 

He turned back, his face once more alight with a peculiar curiosity, causing Draco to freeze, his magic dissipating into the air like invisible smoke. 

"Ah, that's right. I forgot to ask you something very important," Erebus stated, his voice resonating with an almost theatrical gravitas. 

"If your answer satisfies me, then I might just be able to convince my good friend Alfia to let you and those girls leave.”

Draco was taken aback by the sudden declaration, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but he swiftly regained his composure, his expression settling into a mask of cold neutrality. 

"Speak," Draco commanded, his tone sharp, edged with an almost arrogant challenge.

"What is your justice?" Erebus asked, his gaze piercing, seeking to peel back layers of Draco’s being.

‘Seriously? That's all?’ Draco internally scoffed, a wave of perplexity washing over him. 

‘But this is quite tricky. He wants an answer that will satisfy him, so my straightforward reply might be utterly pointless’ he reasoned  

"My justice, huh," Draco muttered aloud, his brow furrowing as he delved deep into the complexities of the question, pondering its nuances.

"My justice is simply a tool to enforce the morals I believe in," Draco finally articulated, his words slow and deliberate. 

"Justice can be whatever anyone wants it to be. It’s just that when the majority disagree with it, that’s when it’s called injustice."

Erebus narrowed his eyes at Draco, his gaze attempting to bore into the very essence of the dragon-boy’s soul. 

Yet, something was amiss. 

He couldn't penetrate beyond a certain point, finding his insight mysteriously obscured. 

It was as if an array of vibrant, swirling colors shimmered, concealing a deeper truth beneath. Erebus couldn't discern if Draco's words represented his complete conviction or merely a carefully constructed half-truth. 

‘Did Bahamut perhaps do something to the boy?’ Erebus briefly wondered, a fleeting thought he quickly dismissed as illogical.

"While your answer is commendable and seems to be truly what you believe, it's not the answer I am seeking," Erebus finally said, a hint of weariness in his voice as he turned, once more preparing to leave. 

As he passed Alfia, his voice dropped below a whisper, so low that only she, with her monstrous hearing, could possibly discern his words. 

"Alfia, do as you will, but spare the boy's life. It would be rather annoying if his goddess goes berserk. That might cause unforeseen variables in the grand plan."

‘Tsk, I knew he wasn’t going to make this easy’ Draco cursed internally, his entire being tensing. He couldn't allow Erebus to depart, for his meticulously crafted plan hinged on Erebus continued presence. 

His scheme would crumble into dust if Erebus slipped away.

However, just as Draco was about to launch his assault, a sudden, powerful force interfered. "Stand aside, dragon boy," Alfia’s voice resonated, a low, ominous hum that vibrated deep within Draco’s bones, a visceral warning that echoed in his very core.

Draco responded not with words, for he knew there was no point in further discourse. 

Instead, he answered with action. 

His eyes, quick and sharp, had caught a fleeting detail: a tiny, barely perceptible scratch marring Alfia’s arm. 

‘To think Lyra and Kaguya were able to leave a scratch on Alfia, despite being so much weaker than me. If I can’t accomplish something as simple as escaping with them, then what does that make me?’ The thought fueled a surge of determination, solidifying his resolve.