"Are they the supporters you mentioned?" Silverlight Zephan narrowed his eyes, studying the two kneeling figures.

Eren looked very strong, and it was clear he was a Rank 3 Practitioner. Rhys, however, gave off no ripple at all, nothing Zephan could use to guess the man's power.

Despite the intimidating exoskeleton wrapped around his body, Rhys felt like any mortal to their eyes.

Adyr realized this would scarcely impress beyond a flicker of surprise, so he prepared to unveil the main act. He nodded and said, "Yes, they are part of it," and turned his eyes to the clouds.

Following his gaze, Liora, Zephan, and Throgar raised their heads to the empty sky, where dark clouds hung like a heavy curtain.

There was nothing to see except the promise of rain. Then they felt it. A pressure in the air, faint at first, like the breath of a storm drawing near.

A low hum threaded out of the clouds and gathered strength, spreading across the land like a monster's growl.

In the next instant, the hum swelled into thunder, and then, instead of lightning, six colossal black metal forms broke through the cloudbank, descending like vast, steel coffins.

Their hulls were dull and lifeless, save for narrow seams of indicator lights pulsing in a slow, deliberate rhythm. No trace of life came from them, only the cold stillness of forged metal, and that mechanical emptiness deepened the awe in the three titled Practitioners.

The hoverjets sank lower, one by one, until they fixed themselves at a precise height above the ground.

They held formation with machine certainty, mirroring the Silver Whale's steady poise. The difference lay in their number and in the layered roar of engines that pressed into the chest and rattled bone, a harsh metallic tide that made the night feel smaller and more dangerous.

A hiss cut through the engine noise. Side doors split open along hidden lines, and ramps unfolded with smooth hydraulic confidence. From each hull, white step-lights flared to life, casting clean bars across dry earth and the sheen of scattered stones. Boots met those bars in perfect time.

Victor emerged first, followed by Selina, Dalin, and Evangeline. Other Players streamed behind them, each carrying the weight of the Practitioner's aura, with Rank 3 and Rank 2 power settling over the field.

Then the next wave came. Fifty soldiers in heavy exoskeletons advanced in paired files, armor plates catching the faint skyglow, servo joints whispering at the edge of hearing.

The armor looked built to survive brutal work, with reinforced pauldrons, ribbed greaves, and helmet visors that burned with narrow slits of light. Behind them, more figures poured out in dark STF uniforms, weapons at the ready, every one of them in black tactical helmets that sealed off their faces, sharpening their lethal appearance another degree.

Not a step faltered and not a glance drifted, the entire line moving in one seamless sweep.

Lines formed and locked with almost painful synergy. Each step landed in the same rhythm, heel and toe kissing ground in a single sound that rolled across the field like a drumline.

Hands found the same angle at the same second. Rifle muzzles settled to the same tilt. Backs straightened together until the entire body of troops seemed to hinge on one invisible spine. In the faint breeze, uniform hems and sling straps lifted in the same slow breath, as if the wind itself had been trained.

Though the titled Practitioners still felt no trace of energy from their bodies, the discipline before them carried more weight than any scream of power. The way they turned their heads as one to check spacing, the way a squad leader's two fingers lifted and every column adjusted by the thickness of a palm, the way the outer ranks opened a corridor without breaking cadence. It was not simply that they had fought before. It was that they had fought together, again and again, and learned to move as if fear and doubt had been boiled away and only their desire to fight remained.

When the formation stood complete, a compact army arranged before Adyr and the three titled Practitioners, a single figure stepped out.

Selina moved along the front line, the ground giving a soft crunch under her boots.

Her deep purple eyes shone like two moons, and her loose midnight hair lifted and fell in the evening air. In her black uniform, she looked built for war, a proud valkyrie on the field.

She paused before Adyr with her chin up, their eyes meeting and setting a brief tension in the air, and then, in a silent shift, the steel in her spine softened into grace as she dropped to one knee and bowed. "I greet Young Master"

Sound rolled in from behind her a heartbeat later. Every Player and every soldier dropped together, armor striking earth in one crash that ran through the night and bounced off the rocks like a war drum. The words followed as a single voice, low and final: "We greet Young Master."

"This..." Liora and the others stared at the ceremony they had never witnessed before.

It was not sheer strength that unsettled them. It was the order in it.

They all commanded armies in their own kingdoms. Even the Velari Kingdom had knights known for their training and discipline. Yet what they saw here was

on another level entirely.

Even Zephan, who ruled a kingdom of war-loving warriors, found no ready words. For the first time, he felt that what he had called armies were training sketches beside this finished work. These soldiers moved like a single body, every man and woman a limb answering the same thought.

Adyr, seeing their reactions and expressions, felt satisfied as he let the silence sit for a heartbeat longer, then swept his gaze over the ranks and spoke in a

commander's tone.

"Stand at ease."

The army rose in one breath, exoskeleton plates clicking as STF jackets settled, chests lifting, eyes leveling, and rifles lowering to a safe angle. The shape of the formation held firm, quiet but ready to tighten at a single word.

"So this is the small support you called. Impressive." Zephan finally smiled as he spoke, the admiration plain in his voice.

It was exactly the kind of army he would want in his kingdom.

"Well, this is what I'm allowed to call from my personal retainers at the

moment," Adyr said casually, as though this were only a fraction of his strength,

when in truth it was everything he could muster from Earth.

Anyway, the words landed where they were meant to, enough to make them ask one crucial question: if this was only a small force from his personal attendants, what would his main army look like, and what kind of power did his

family hold?

Of course, those were questions that would remain unanswered for the time

being.

"If you'll excuse me, I'd like to discuss our next steps with them," Adyr told the two titled Practitioners.

After they nodded in understanding, he led Liora and his personal army away to

a quiet, secluded area to finalize their plans.

The night wasn't over yet, and he meant to turn it to his advantage.