The palace quarter bled smoke into the sky. Kaelis still roared overhead, his flames gnawing at the towers, while the Nova Sanctum's cannons punched holes through the walls. Yet deeper inside the city, away from Karl's rampage, the air shifted again.
Lucian felt it first. Space bent faint around his skin, like the world was holding its breath. He slowed, his hand rising slightly. Lucy stopped beside him, blade dripping faint black flame, her eyes narrowing.
The street ahead wasn't empty anymore.
Four figures stood across the flagstones. They weren't guards. They weren't soldiers. They were heavier, sharper, the kind of presences that bent the ground just by standing still.
Dukes.
Each was peak Beta rank, and each bore the shape of something older than the kingdom itself.
The first was a white tiger, his striped armor glowing faint silver, claws tipped with steel longer than knives. His breath came out in low growls, steady and sharp, his eyes fixed on Lucian like prey.
