Ex rank talent Awakening: 100% Dodge rate

Gendry stood there, chest tight as hell, fighting to breathe like it was a damn war. Every inhale felt risky, like the air itself might piss off the guy in front of him. He tried to keep it shallow, quiet—anything to avoid drawing attention. Ygrit, the Wrath Clan's short-stack prince, was sprawled on a high-backed chair, looking way too comfy for someone so terrifying. The underground city's command room had a bunch of fancy seats scattered around, all carved up nice and shiny, but Gendry? No chance he was parking his ass in one. Same went for the viscount hovering nearby. They were both too scared to even twitch wrong. One slip, and Ygrit's infamous temper would turn them into paste.

The prince's dark silks shimmered in the torchlight, making him look like some smug little god. Gendry's eyes flicked to the floor, then back up, then down again. He couldn't help it—nerves were eating him alive. Ygrit wasn't just any demon. He was the guy who'd smashed his own brother into a bloody mess over a height joke. Everyone knew that story, whispered it like a ghost tale. And here Gendry was, stuck in the same room, trying not to screw himself.

"So?" Ygrit's voice hit like a slap, cocky and sharp. "Where's Kodiac's twin?"

Gendry swallowed hard, throat dry as sand. "He, uh… escaped, my lord." Fear clamped down on his heart, squeezing tight. He could feel it pounding, loud enough he swore Ygrit could hear it too.

"You let him go?" Ygrit's tone dropped, dark and dangerous. Then—bam—a wave of pressure slammed into Gendry, heavy as a damn boulder. His knees shook, his lungs burned, and breathing? Yeah, that just got ten times harder.

"Forgive us!" Gendry wheezed, bowing so low his forehead nearly kissed the cold stone floor. Sweat dripped off his nose, plinking against the ground. "Some chick helped him. She's not from here—came from the other races' world." He dragged the words out slow, careful, like he was defusing a bomb. Humility was his only shield right now. Piss off Ygrit? He'd be a smear on the wall faster than he could blink. That short-tempered prince didn't mess around—everyone knew about the brother thing. Brutal didn't even cover it.

"One woman stopped all of you?" Ygrit's voice turned icy, and the pressure cranked up again. Gendry hit the deck, knees smacking stone, gasping like he'd been underwater too long. The viscount wasn't doing much better, clawing at the air beside him.

"She… turned… into… a… dragon," Gendry choked out, each word a battle. His vision blurred, spots dancing in front of his eyes. He could barely think through the panic.

Then, like a switch flipped, the pressure vanished. "Ha! Ha! Ha!" Ygrit's laugh ripped through the room, harsh and loud, bouncing off the walls like a damn war cry. Gendry sucked in air, chest heaving, panting like he'd just sprinted a marathon. The viscount was right there with him, doubled over, hands on his knees. "A dragon, huh? Now that's interesting." Ygrit leaned forward, his crimson eyes lighting up like a kid spotting candy. "Where'd she go?" His voice buzzed with excitement, practically vibrating. Gendry could tell—this guy was itching to hunt her down, turn her into his personal plaything.

"We don't—" the viscount started, but pop. His head exploded in a wet, red mess, splattering blood across the floor. Gendry flinched, stomach lurching as the body crumpled. A tiny glowing orb had shot from Ygrit's finger, quick as a bullet. "Give me a good answer," Ygrit said, turning that menacing stare on Gendry. Another orb flickered at his fingertip, humming with death.

Gendry's skin prickled, goosebumps popping up like a rash. His brain kicked into overdrive, scrambling for anything to save his neck. "She's probably—uh—"

"Stutter again, and you're dead," Ygrit snapped, voice flat and cold.

"She's probably heading to the wilderness!" Gendry blurted, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. "I heard her tell Azrael her brother's there—she flew that way, straight toward the wilderness!" His heart hammered, palms slick with sweat. He was one wrong word from joining the viscount.

"Good enough." Ygrit's lips curled into a smug little smirk. He hopped off the chair, landing with a thud that was almost funny—almost. At toddler height, he should've looked ridiculous, but Gendry didn't dare crack a grin. "This moving city—how fast?"

"A week to the wilderness, my lord," Gendry said, still catching his breath, voice shaky.

"That slow?" Ygrit clicked his tongue, annoyed as hell. "Whatever. Get it rolling. And bring me ten of those cocky lowlives who think they're hot shit. I'm pissed, and I need to let off steam. Not here, though—training room. Don't wanna clean up a mess. Move it!"

Ygrit strutted out, tiny but terrifying, leaving Gendry sagging in relief. He pressed his face to the floor, the cool stone grounding him. Aquarius's words echoed in his head—betrayal, consequences, all that crap. It was hitting hard now, way faster than he'd expected. His chest twinged, guilt stabbing deep. He'd have to hand over some of his own people to Ygrit. They'd die—no question. "Small price to save the rest," he muttered, forcing himself up. He hustled off, desperate to keep the prince happy—or at least not raging.

Meanwhile, Somewhere Else…

"What the hell is this?!" Lilith's voice roared, her projection flickering like a glitchy screen. She was pissed, her dark hair whipping around her face, crimson eyes blazing as she glared at the demon god. He sat on his massive obsidian throne, horns curling up like a nightmare crown, shadows cloaking his huge frame. The grand hall felt smaller with him in it, like he sucked up all the space.

"Mind your tone, Lilith," Asmodeus cut in, smooth and slick. The golden-haired pretty boy lounged by the throne, smirking like he was watching a show. "You're in front of the demon god."

"Shut it!" Lilith snapped, voice cold as ice. "Push me again, and I'll come back to shove some manners down your damn throat!" Asmodeus just kept grinning, cool as ever.

"Your castle's getting rebuilt," the demon god rumbled, his voice rolling through the hall like thunder.

"Don't feed me that crap!" Lilith shot back, projection flickering harder. "You think I'm a joke? You send me off with some bullshit invasion excuse, split my forces piece by piece, and now my castle's a pile of rubble! My people died—probably think I bailed on them. No duke, no duchess, no marquis—not even a damn earl to run my region! What's your game?" Her fists clenched, nails digging into her palms.

"If you weren't plotting rebellion—or trying to bring back my old enemy—I wouldn't bother," the demon god said, blunt as a hammer. "You're against me, so I'm breaking you apart."

"So you trashed my region and castle just to screw me over?" Lilith's voice shook, rage boiling over.

"Yup." He leaned back, chill as hell. "Those ants you call subjects? Don't care. I'll wipe them out whenever I want."

"Fine," Lilith hissed, teeth grinding so hard you could hear it. "You want war? You've got it. Remember—you started this." Her projection flared bright, then poof—gone, leaving the air buzzing.

"Was that smart?" Asmodeus asked, tilting his head, all casual-like. "Lilith's gonna hit back."

"Let her," the demon god said, a rare smirk creeping up. "She's got no shot. She'd need her full power back, and I'll conquer that other world before then. My sister's done." Sister—he dropped it like it was nothing, and Asmodeus's grin stretched wide. That was a once-in-a-blue-moon treat.

Back with Lilith…

Lilith stormed around her hideout, fists balled up tight, her dark gown swishing like a pissed-off storm cloud. Her chat with her brother had her fuming, anger cranking up with every step. Her heels clicked sharp against the stone floor, echoing in the dim room.

"You look pissed," Kyle said, yanking off his helmet. His black hair was a sweaty mess, but those gray eyes and chiseled jaw still screamed hot. He clocked her mood right off—clear as day.

"That bastard demon god trashed my castle—humiliated me!" Lilith spat, venom dripping from every word. "How dare he?"

"Oh," Kyle said, flat and bored. Zero shits given.

"Oh?" Lilith's brow shot up, temper flaring hotter. "That's it?"

"What else you want?" Kyle shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Your mess, not mine. Why should I care?"

Her eyes narrowed, steam practically coming out her ears. "Remind me how many times I've bailed you out of your messes?"

"Didn't ask you to," Kyle fired back, voice edging up, irritation creeping in. "You stuck your nose in. Don't dump your crap on me. Quit helping—I'd love it. No more flirty nagging in my life."

"Oh, I see," Lilith sneered, sarcasm thick. "You'd never help me, even if I begged. Why'd I waste time on you? Should've killed you ages ago if you weren't the key to the ancients."

"Should've," Kyle said, cool and sharp. "Too late now. I'm stronger than you, Lilith. Your power's stuck; mine's climbing. You can't touch me. And the ancients? Only freeing them when I can control them—or steal their juice. I'm not their lapdog. I'm the one who gets worshipped."

"Ha!" Lilith laughed, bitter as hell. "A bit of power, and you're this cocky? You'll regret looking down on me." She spun around, storming off, heels slamming the floor like gunfire.

Jessica stepped out from the shadows, auburn hair catching the light. "Was that a good move?" she asked Kyle, voice low and careful. "She's mad. Bad time to poke her."

"Nah, it's all planned," Kyle said, a creepy grin spreading. "She's beefing with the demon god and losing. I'm just picking the winner. Pissing her off puts me in good with him." His smile was off, but damn, that handsome face made it look almost charming.