Vlad's eyes grew cold as realization struck him—this enemy was no mere infiltrator.
It was a Lord of the Vorometallicae Race.
If he had ignored his instincts and allowed the Viking fleet to enter Terra, the result would have been catastrophic. A battle between Lords was not a simple clash; it was the collision of suns.
The devastation of such power would have reduced continents to ash. It would have been a miracle if only one continent sank to the ocean's depths. Millions of lives would have been lost.
Yet Vlad allowed no such thoughts to distract him. His focus narrowed to a singular point, his grip tightening on the Rusty Sword until it hummed in resonance with his heartbeat.
That single punch earlier told him everything he needed to know—this opponent was strong, fast, and deadly precise. A single lapse in concentration could mean death.
