Talent Awakening: Draconic Overlord Of The Apocalypse-Chapter 447: • What Was Left Unsaid
Alister didn't move away. His hands were still gently resting at her sides, and his gaze was fixed on her face—studying her like he was seeing her in a new light.
Neither of them spoke.
There was no need to.
Their breaths mingled in the short distance between them, warm against the cool rooftop air.
The world felt far away, distant and irrelevant, leaving just the two of them suspended in this quiet space.
Lila's eyes flicked down to his lips, then back up, nervous yet drawn in.
Alister tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze softening. His hand rose slowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch feather-light.
Their faces were close now.
Closer.
Their eyes locked—questioning, answering, daring.
And then—
Their lips met.
It was a soft kiss at first, slow and hesitant, like neither of them wanted to let the moment pass away.
But as seconds passed, it deepened, warmed, and spoke the words they hadn't yet dared to say aloud.
When they finally parted, just enough to breathe, their foreheads rested against one another, and Lila smiled—a small, glowing smile that held a thousand emotions.
"I've waited so long for that," she whispered.
Alister let out a soft chuckle, his eyes still closed, forehead resting gently against hers. "I'm sorry it took me this long to see you properly."
Lila laughed quietly, a breathless, trembling sound as her hands slid up to rest against his chest. "It's okay… I just—I'm glad you finally did."
A moment passed between them, heavy with emotion but wrapped in comfort. The silence wasn't awkward. It was warm. Peaceful.
…
…
Outside a Crimson Red Gate – Sector IV, Midnight
The swirling, vertical red portal pulsed with a hum, casting a bloodlight glow across the surrounding buildings.
Its surface shimmered like molten glass, unnerving to look at for too long.
Dozens of people had gathered outside the cordoned-off area—reporters, civilians, and members of the Red Phoenix Guild in white and red uniform.
Cameras clicked. Drones hovered overhead, capturing every angle.
From a distance, the Red Phoenix Guild's elite strike team had just entered the gate—seven figures vanishing one by one into the swirling portal without a word.
Unnoticed by all, an eighth figure had followed them in—Draven.
On the ground, behind the barricades and flashing warning signs, stood two of the Red Phoenix team leaders: Elias Varn, a scarred veteran with gray creeping into his temples, and Naomi Crest, a sharp-eyed woman in her thirties, arms folded as she stared at the gate like it owed her something.
"You really think they'll make it back?" Elias asked, not looking at her.
Naomi let out a breath, exasperated. "They're our best, Elias. If they can't… then no one can."
"Yeah." He scratched his chin. "That's what we said the last four times."
She didn't answer right away, her jaw tightening. "Sector II lost contact in six hours. III failed in less than three. And in Sector I… the dungeon just appeared, then in half an hour it broke, spewing out monsters. What kind of dungeon does that?"
"We're not just failing," Elias muttered. "We are being obliterated. And the Guild's still pretending like this isn't bigger than we thought."
Naomi turned slightly, her voice lower. "You heard from her?"
Elias's eyes darkened. "No. Not since the crash in the outer rings. We still don't know if she's alive."
There was a silence between them. Naomi's hands clenched slightly.
"She always said she'd come back when the fire needed her most," Naomi whispered. "Maybe this is it."
Elias nodded. "Let's just hope this team doesn't end up like the others."
A few feet away, reporters from multiple news outlets were live-streaming.
A female reporter with a bright red mic spoke to the camera, her voice crisp and composed:
"We're here at the scene of another Red Gate manifestation in Sector IV, where members of the Red Phoenix Guild have just entered in what appears to be their fifth attempt at clearing one of these anomaly zones."
She turned slightly, gesturing toward the shimmering gate.
"With no successful clears yet, and civilian fear rising, many are wondering if this will be any different."
The camera shifted to a young guild member nearby, his face pale but determined.
"What do you think the people need to hear right now?" the reporter asked.
The young man glanced back at the gate. "That we're still fighting. That we haven't given up. And that even if these gates have claimed everyone so far… this time, we're going to bring them down."
Another reporter chimed in from the side, addressing the camera with urgency.
"The union has evacuated the area, but tensions are still high. Businesses are closing, and many civilians have taken to the streets demanding answers."
In the background, a few civilians held signs—"CLOSE THE GATES," "WHERE IS THE UNION?"
"SAVE OUR CITY."
Naomi watched the crowd quietly, then muttered, "People want hope. And we're running out of it."
Elias gave her a sideways glance. "Maybe that's why he went in."
Naomi frowned. "Who?"
Elias tilted his head toward the portal. "The guildmaster."
Naomi's eyes widened. "Arden's back?"
"I saw him. Slipped in just after the last unit."
Naomi stared at the portal, a mixture of surprise and something unreadable in her gaze. "Then maybe… maybe this time will be different."
…
…
The air was thick with a humid, suffocating weight as Arden and his team made their way deeper into the heart of the crimson dungeon.
The dense jungle around them was strange—twisted trees, blackened vines, and strange, red, pulsating flora surrounded them, rising from the blood-soaked swamp beneath their feet.
The ground was sticky, each step squelching as they trudged through a sea of mud and blood.
The smell of rotting flesh and decay filled the air, though luckily what was inhaled was purified, making it easier to breathe.
Arden, the guildmaster, led the group, his face obscured by a high-tech, face-shield mask designed to filter out the worst of the toxins and fumes that clung to the air.
