Damian tapped his chin thoughtfully.
"Oh, I know that story. Yes… Archangel Michael sealed the dragon in a sword that defied even the greatest monsters. After that, he entrusted it to one of the strongest Beastfolk Tribes," he said.
Nolan leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"And my friend became the successor," he added.
Silence filled the room for a moment. A faint pressure gathered around Nolan—subtle, but heavy, like the warning of an incoming storm.
"So before he reaches me… I want a sword worthy of the fight. That is why I needed the Chimera… and your scale," Nolan said quietly.
Damian's expression softened with respect.
"Understood, Master. Then the fifteen-day wait is worth it," he replied.
The next morning came softly.
Sunlight slipped into the mansion windows, warming the rooms where Nolan and his companions rested. One by one, they emerged—stretching off the last hints of sleep.
Lyra was first, tightening her gloves.
Linda came next, fixing her hair.
