The air still smelled of burnt ozone and crushed leaves when a sudden burst of blinding white light tore through the haze. Lea flinched, her mint pheromone shield flickering for a moment as a loud, resonant hum echoed through the battlefield.
From the sky, a squad of armored airships descended, their insignias gleaming in gold—the Draven Combat Unit. At the front stood a tall man in tactical black, his aura sharp and cold enough to cut through the chaos. His silver hair, streaked faintly with ash, caught the light as he leapt down with fluid precision.
"Father!" Hugo shouted, relief flashing in his voice as he sliced through another flying beast that lunged toward him.
Kael Draven's piercing gray eyes flicked briefly toward him. His jaw tightened—not in rejection, but in visible restraint. "Focus on the enemies, not me," he replied curtly, drawing his sword. The blade hummed with contained elemental power, bright blue lightning tracing its edge.
