Aeralon had barely pulled away when the roc arrived.

It swept in like a storm given form, its massive wings cutting through the air. Its gaze flicked over Ethan—and froze for half a beat.

Shock, raw and unmistakable.

It couldn’t wrap its head around it. A human at Tier 24... holding off a Tier 33 Aeralon for that long? Long enough to buy it time to recover?

That didn’t make sense.

Then it noticed Ethan’s missing arm. Something shifted in its eyes—just a flicker—but it didn’t stop.

In the next instant, it shot past him, accelerating straight after Aeralon.

"Hey! Don’t kill him!" Ethan shouted after it. "Break him and leave him for me!"

The roc didn’t slow. No clue if it even understood.

Ethan clicked his tongue, a little uneasy. Aeralon would make perfect material for a soulless thrall. Killing him outright would be such a waste.

Still... no way he was going after them in his current state. If he pushed it, he’d be the one getting killed.

He turned and headed for the cave instead.

Halfway there, two figures rushed in from the opposite direction—Henry and Grayson.

Ethan dropped to the ground.

"Ethan!"

"Ethan!"

Both of them visibly relaxed when they saw him alive.

Then Grayson’s eyes landed on the missing arm. His face went pale.

"Ethan... your arm—?"

"Not a big deal," Ethan said, brushing it off. "Cut it off myself."

"...What?"

Grayson just stared, brain stalling out. You... what?

Henry, on the other hand, barely reacted. At this point, Ethan losing a limb in a fight way above his level wasn’t even surprising—as long as he made it back alive.

He stepped forward, placing a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. Light bloomed.

Right in front of Grayson’s wide eyes, flesh began to regrow—bone, muscle, skin—knitting back together like time reversing itself.

Grayson swallowed hard.

Fallen Star Squad... yeah. Monsters. Every single one of them.

It didn’t take long.

Ethan flexed his restored hand, clenching and unclenching his fist. Everything felt normal.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Alright. Let’s go check on Dopey."

He had a guess what happened. Dopey hadn’t responded to his summons at all—it had to be pinned down somehow.

The three of them took off, moving fast.

Before long, they reached the edge of the battlefield.

And there it was.

A cluster of Winged Clan elites hovered in the air, cycling control abilities nonstop, layering them over Dopey in waves. They didn’t dare let up for even a second.

Dopey thrashed below, locked in place, unable to break free.

Off to the side, Aerisara lay on the ground, completely out of the fight.

They hadn’t killed her.

Instead, her limbs—and even her wings—had been broken, leaving her unable to move.

Ethan and the others stayed hidden in the nearby trees, watching.

No rush.

Dopey wasn’t in danger.

If anything... the longer this dragged out, the worse it got for the Winged Clan.

They couldn’t stop.

Not even for a moment.

If their control slipped, even slightly, Dopey would break free—and once that happened, it would be over in seconds.

So they kept casting. Nonstop. From the moment they pinned it down until now, they hadn’t paused once.

Mental energy like that?

It wouldn’t last.

Sooner or later, they’d run dry.

And when they did—

It would be Dopey’s turn.

Ethan exhaled slowly, eyes steady.

Still, he knew what they were really doing.

Stalling.

The second Aeralon’s situation stabilized, they’d disengage and flee without hesitation.

Honestly... after this?

These Winged Clan elites would probably never want to see Dopey again for the rest of their lives.

Ethan kept his eyes on the battlefield while popping crystal cores one after another, chewing through them like candy to refill his mental energy.

This fight had nearly drained him dry. With Emily gone, this was his only option.

Next to him, Grayson watched... and felt physical pain.

Because Ethan wasn’t just eating any crystal cores.

Tier 22.

By now, most Enhanced could tell a core’s Tier just by the depth of its color. Tier 18 and Tier 22 were both green—but Tier 22 was noticeably deeper, richer.

Grayson recognized it instantly.

And that made it worse.

He’d nearly killed himself fighting Cyrus over a single Tier 18 core.

Meanwhile, Ethan was casually tossing Tier 22 cores into his mouth like snacks.

The gap hit like a truck.

Grayson swallowed, eyes locked onto the core in Ethan’s hand. He didn’t say anything—he knew his place—but the want was written all over his face.

Ethan caught the look and paused.

Right... this guy was only peak Tier 17. Watching someone recover with Tier 22 cores probably felt brutal.

Problem was, Ethan didn’t really carry lower-tier stuff. His storage ring was stacked with Tier 22s—anything weaker, he barely had.

He thought for a second, then pulled out another core.

"You want one?"

"Yeah!" Grayson nodded immediately. No hesitation.

"Alright." Ethan smiled. "Help out one more time. Do it right, and it’s yours."

Grayson had earned that much.

Without his white mist earlier, there was no way they could’ve snatched the roc right under the Winged Clan’s noses.

The mist didn’t deal damage—but it blocked sight, muffled sound, even dulled perception. That wasn’t something a smoke bomb could replicate.

Aerisara’s little "distraction" might pull eyes, sure—but it wouldn’t fool their senses.

The only reason they’d managed to steal the roc’s unconscious body without being noticed...

Was Grayson.

Ethan had picked him for exactly that ability. The whole plan hinged on it.

Grayson nodded hard, jaw set.

"Got it. Just tell me what to do."

He’d already done it once. The fear was still there—but smaller now. And with a Tier 22 core on the line?

Worth it.

Ethan pointed toward the battlefield, toward the broken figure lying off to the side.

"I’ll go draw their attention. You and Henry slip in and get Aerisara out."

Right now, every Winged Clan elite was focused on suppressing Dopey. No one was watching her.

But that wouldn’t last.

The second anyone got close, they’d notice.

So they needed the mist again—cover the approach, extract her clean, and let Henry heal her up.

After that...

Ethan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He’d pull part of their force away. Once Aerisara recovered and jumped back in, their formation would crack.

Dopey would get his opening.

Aeralon had already taken half their numbers. There were only about six hundred left here. Break their rhythm, even a little, and things would spiral fast.

And once Dopey got loose?

That was when the real fun started.

Ethan let out a quiet breath, a faint grin tugging at his lips.

They liked bullying Dopey for not being able to fly, right?

Fine.

Aerisara could.

Let Dopey ride her—he tanks, she deals damage.

Perfect combo.