After a few days, more recruits finally began to arrive at the stronghold, having completed the journey from one end of the world to the other. Every newcomer stepped into the fortress with sharp eyes, hardened expressions, and bodies forged by struggle. No one who crossed the Death World of Akai was weak; each was a powerhouse in the making, tempered by blood, danger, and unyielding will.
Yet even these battle-ready youths couldn't help but turn toward the group at the center of the stronghold. Sylar constantly released waves of pressure that cracked the ground and stirred the air like a living storm.
Around him, the auras of Vorg, Zendo, Michael, and Arthur grew more refined by the hour, as if every breath they took elevated them further. The newcomers could sense that something transcendent was happening within that circle—something delicate, powerful, and dangerous to disturb. Thus, despite their curiosity, they kept their distance.
