As for Michael…
He did not care about the prince.
Nor the empire.
Out of mind. Out of thought.
What drew his attention instead was something far more immediate.
Pressure.
A heavy wave descended from the sky, pressing down across the clearing in layered currents.
Michael's eyes narrowed slightly as he looked up at the approaching ship.
"…Rank Three," he murmured under his breath.
After being around Rank Three superpowers for so long, he was already intimately familiar with that level of strength.
This pressure did not belong to one individual.
It came from several people aboard the vessel.
And more importantly…
It was controlled.
Restrained just enough to not count as an attack, yet released wide enough to be felt by everyone below.
Michael's gaze sharpened faintly.
Was it a display of strength?
Or a reminder of hierarchy?
He did not move.
He simply watched as the ship descended through the clouds.
But around him, the reaction was far less composed.
