Ethan followed Damien to the mansion at the center of the compound. They shot the breeze for ten-plus minutes, and the moment the chefs finally finished the spread—

Ethan was just about to dig into whatever "local specialty" Damien had been bragging about...

When the outside suddenly exploded into chaos.

"Enemy attack!"

"It’s a mutant beast! A terrifying one!"

Shouts crashed in from all directions. Everyone inside went tight-faced at once, then bolted for the door.

"SKREE—!"

A piercing cry knifed through the air.

A massive shadow circled above the compound, blotting out chunks of the sky as it wheeled overhead.

Ethan looked up—and froze.

"Roc?!"

Why is it here? A cold thought slid in. Did it come looking for me?

But we were just... cooperating. We saved it, it helped us kill the Winged Clan. Deal done. That should be the end of it.

Unless...

Unless it didn’t get its fill, and it’s here to butcher a whole city?

Ethan’s stomach sank. He immediately summoned Dopey, then stepped onto Poleaxe and lifted off with telekinesis, Dopey riding with him as he shot upward.

The roc spotted Ethan almost instantly. Its eyes brightened—then its gaze snapped to Dopey standing in front of Ethan.

Shock flashed through the giant bird’s eyes.

Even though Dopey looked like a human with no aura at all, the roc could feel danger coming off him.

Mutant beasts had razor-sharp instincts. If it sensed a threat, that meant this "human" had the power to hurt it.

The realization clearly rattled the roc.

Earlier, Ethan had claimed he had a companion whose strength wasn’t below the roc’s. Back then, it had treated it like trash talk.

Now it was staring at proof.

The roc held Dopey’s gaze for a long beat, then loosened its talons.

Something dropped toward Ethan.

Only then did Ethan notice the roc had been carrying something. As it fell closer, his eyes sharpened—

A Winged Clan corpse.

Ethan reached out and caught it. The moment he got a clear look, his eyes went wide.

"Aeralon?!"

Then he felt it—faint movement. The chest was still rising and falling.

"Alive?!" Ethan’s face cracked into pure, stunned joy as he looked back up at the roc. "For me?"

"Skree..." The roc called softly, like it was saying, Who else would it be for?

Ethan’s excitement spiked so hard he almost laughed. "That’s amazing. Thank you, roc!"

He genuinely hadn’t expected this. The roc had actually captured Aeralon alive and brought him back.

For Ethan, it was an absolute windfall.

The roc gave its wings a shake, then with one powerful beat, it turned and shot off into the distance like a thrown spear.

"Hey—don’t leave yet!" Ethan shouted after it. "Stay and eat a meal before you go!"

The roc didn’t even pretend to listen. It kept flying at insane speed, and Ethan could only watch it vanish—probably off to keep hunting down the remaining Winged Clan elites.

If nothing else, it told Ethan one thing: this roc kept its grudges and paid its debts. Clear lines. No nonsense.

Ethan watched it go, a little regret tugging at him.

"Damn... if I could’ve talked it into sticking with us, Fallen Star Squad’s strength would jump through the roof again."

But he wasn’t about to get greedy. At least they’d built a solid relationship. If something came up later, maybe he could call in a favor.

And besides—

This "gift" the roc just delivered?

It was heavy as hell.

"Saving you was worth every bit of it." Ethan grinned down at the unconscious Aeralon in his arms. "No question."

Once the roc flew off, everyone down below let out a hard, shaky breath.

When it first arrived, that crushing pressure had smothered the entire compound. People could barely breathe.

A lot of them genuinely thought they were about to die. If a mutant beast like that decided to butcher the city, they wouldn’t even have the ability to resist.

But Ethan was ridiculous. The second he showed his face, the thing obediently turned around and left.

"Ethan! Ethan! Ethan!"

The crowd erupted into cheers.

"Did you see that? He just showed up, and that monster backed off!"

"That’s Fallen Star Squad’s captain for you!"

Praise poured in from every direction—so loud and so over-the-top that even Ethan blinked, caught off guard for a second.

"Ethan, thank you," Damien said, still pale. "If you hadn’t been here at exactly the right time... Goldcrest City doesn’t even bear thinking about."

Ethan scratched his head, a little awkward.

Maybe... if he hadn’t been here, the roc wouldn’t have come here at all.

And besides, the roc hadn’t been planning to attack the compound in the first place. If it really wanted to, Ethan wasn’t sure he could’ve stopped it.

"Come on," Damien said, forcing a grin. "The food and wine are ready. This time we have to properly thank you."

"No." Ethan shook his head. "I’ve got something urgent. I’m heading back to Fallen Star City."

He’d planned to eat well and sleep the night here, but now he had Aeralon. He couldn’t waste time. If that guy woke up on the way—or if his injuries were too severe and he died—either way it was trouble.

"It’s already dark," Damien said, baffled. "What’s so urgent it can’t wait until tomorrow?"

"Urgent," Ethan repeated. "No time. Next time I’ll come back and try your specialties."

With that, Ethan took Henry and hurried off toward Fallen Star City.

Damien and the others watched him go, then could only shake their heads.

"How strong do you think Ethan actually is?" Damien asked one of the senior officials beside him.

"No idea. Just... insanely strong." The man swallowed. "That mutant beast had to be something from the Void Realm. Just its presence alone made it hard for us to breathe. I can’t even imagine what kind of power that is... and yet it still backed off the moment Ethan showed up. That tells you everything."

"We’ve got guns, artillery, and an actual army," Damien said with a helpless shake of his head. "And somehow, we’re still less useful than a handful of college kids."

"Commander, you can’t think like that," another official said quickly. "Atlas City’s compound isn’t any better than theirs either. Compared to them, us being worse is... kind of normal."

"...When you put it that way," Damien muttered, "I feel a little better."

"What a shame they left so fast," one official sighed. "I wanted to host them properly. If they were in a good mood, maybe they’d toss us a few crystal cores and we’d be set."

"You’re dreaming," someone else shot back. "With how they do things, unless you’ve helped them in a massive way, forget crystal cores. You should be grateful they didn’t clean you out."

"Exactly. Stop thinking about freebies. The only real way forward is building up our own strength."

"...Fine," the first man grumbled.

Ethan and Henry tore through the sky toward Fallen Star City at top speed. While flying, Ethan called Miles and told him to get the materials ready to create a soulless thrall.

After night fell—before the Nine-Star Dipper appeared—the darkness was basically absolute. Like the moon and every other star had vanished. Almost no one went out at night.

But this was an emergency. Ethan had no choice but to travel in the dark.

Luckily, he had True Sight. Night didn’t slow him down at all.

After more than half an hour, they finally made it back from Goldcrest City to Fallen Star City.

The moment Ethan landed, he headed straight for the basement and started the creation process.

Aeralon was far too strong. Ethan couldn’t afford even the smallest mistake.

In the end, with Dopey assisting, it took most of the day—but they finally succeeded in turning Aeralon into a soulless thrall.

The instant it was done, Ethan felt his confidence lock into place.

With Dopey and Aeralon at his side, even if a large wave of Void Realm creatures invaded in the future... he wouldn’t be nearly as nervous.

Of course, thralls were still external tools. In the end, the only thing that truly mattered was his own strength.

From here on out, Ethan planned to go back into closed-door cultivation.

The Winged Clan issue was handled. That heavy stone in his chest finally rolled away, and he could focus on raising his own Tier in peace.

Ethan was done running around for now.

One trip to the Rus Federation had already dragged the Winged Clan mess down on his head.

If he went poking around another country and kicked over some new disaster, he really would have no one to blame but himself.