Kairo landed with force, boots crunching into the fractured asphalt. His crimson dome of blood dissolved behind him with a hiss, retreating into steam and droplets that vanished midair.
No hesitation.
No wasted breath.
The moment his boots hit the ground, the rest of his team followed—leaping from the shattered ledge of the crumbling building above. T
hey dropped down like streaks of movement, landing in perfect sync beside him. No words were needed. They'd done this a hundred times before.
Formation came naturally.
Mio fanned out to the left, thread-laced fingers twitching like a puppet master waiting to pull strings. Zaira moved right, her aura flickering with subtle psychic static.
And Melon—smirking, loose, half-joking as always—stayed just a step behind Kairo, his hands already glowing with the green pulse of summoned flora.
But the ogres didn't chase.
Again.
Like puppets with no master to pull the string… they simply stood there.
Watching.
Waiting.
