Silence settled heavily between them.

The Starborn's words lingered in the hot air.

A demon at Rank 3 was normal.

A demon touching the next realm was not in these lower floors.

Even the current Michael knew his limits. Of course the fact he was still calm showed his confidence.

Michael opened his mouth to ask another question, but before a single word left him, the world twitched.

A sharp vibration rippled through the air.

The Starborn's armor tightened instantly.

Spartan adjusted his glasses and shifted his weight.

Michael's eyes narrowed.

A tear in space appeared just a short distance away.

No one needed to speak.

All three understood immediately.

Someone was entering the second floor.

The only real question was simple.

From where?

The first floor?

Or the third?

The Starborn stepped back instinctively. Spartan took one step forward, half guarding Michael's side. Michael himself simply watched with calm eyes as the tear widened.

Then a body shot out of the tear and crashed onto the red sand.

Sand exploded around the figure. A plume of dust rose high into the air. The impact left a shallow crater.

Michael's brows lifted slightly.

The fallen figure pushed against the ground weakly, barely able to lift their head. Their body was covered in scorched armor, parts of it melted or broken. Their arm shook violently. Their breathing was ragged. Their aura flickered like a dying ember.

Michael felt it the moment the aura brushed against him.

Rank 3.

But barely holding on.

The Starborn spoke first, voice trembling slightly.

"They are injured. Badly."

"Anyone who looks like that after crossing floors should not be coming from the first floor."

Michael stepped closer, eyes steady.

"Which means," he said quietly, "they came from above."

A cold breeze swept across the desert.

The injured figure coughed, spitting red into the sand before forcing out a single weak sentence.

"Demonic supernaturals…"

Their voice cracked.

"Those bastards…"

Michael froze.

Demonic supernaturals?

That was a familiar term.

He turned to look at the figure closely. It was a man, dark skinned and human.

But why did the situation turn from a super strong demon to demonic supernaturals?

The injured man tried to move but collapsed again, his body trembling.

Michael sighed faintly, then summoned the Life Worm once more.

The tiny, pale creature materialized in his hand, wriggling lazily. Despite its harmless appearance, its presence alone carried the weight of a Rank 3 existence.

Michael crouched beside the soldier and placed the worm gently on his forehead.

Almost immediately, the worm began to glow, a faint, soothing light that pulsed in rhythm with the man's heartbeat. The smell of burning flesh faded. Scorched skin began knitting together and the man's breathing steadied.

Thirty seconds later, the light dimmed.

Michael retrieved the worm and returned it to the Damaged Coffin of the Forgotten.

He stood, watching as the soldier's eyelids fluttered open.

Confusion filled the man's eyes as he slowly looked up. His gaze swept over Michael's calm face, Spartan's composed figure, and the armored Starborn standing a few feet away.

He finally spoke, voice raw but audible.

"Who are you?"

Michael tilted his head slightly.

"I should be the one asking that," he replied calmly. "Who are you?"

The man blinked several times, then looked at Michael more closely. His eyes lingered on the young man's face.

Then his memory shifted to the presence he had felt just earlier.

Rank 3.

His eyes trembled.

And finally, he looked at the Starborn beside them, whose silver eyes and armor revealed his race instantly.

"You healed me," he said slowly, still dazed.

"Yes," Michael answered. "Now, who are you?"

The man took a breath, steadying his mind before replying.

"I am a soldier of the Aurora Realm," he said, his voice gaining a trace of strength.

Spartan's brow arched slightly.

Michael's eyes sharpened faintly.

So a fellow citizen.

But why did they end up like this?

"Then tell me what happened," Michael said.

The soldier suddenly clenched his teeth. His jaw tightened. His body trembled once, then he slammed his fist into the ground.

Boom.

The impact shook the entire area.

Red sand exploded outward.

A shockwave rolled across the desert.

Even the Starborn flinched backward in surprise as the spot where the soldier struck formed a spiderweb of deep cracks.

His face twisted with raw fury.

"Demonic supernaturals," he hissed. "Those fools."

Michael waited.

The man breathed hard for a few seconds, then slowly forced himself to calm down. His shoulders dropped slightly. His voice steadied.

"I do not know how it happened," he said at last.

He lifted his head, sweat mixing with lingering blood at his temple.

"One moment everything was normal on the first floor. Our station was fully secure. Then suddenly the attack began."

Michael's brows lowered.

"By the demonic supernaturals?" he repeated. "By who?"

The soldier nodded his head.

"I do not know where they came from. They just appeared. Some were not weaker than me, some were stronger."

The Starborn spoke then.

"You are Rank 3," it whispered. "Stronger than most people in the first thirty floors. And there were many who exceeded you?"

The soldier nodded weakly.

"Yes. And they attacked without warning. Seeing how coordinated they were, this was surely not a random attack."

Michael's fingers tapped lightly against his arm.

"That is impossible," he said.

The soldier froze.

Michael continued.

"If demonic supernaturals wanted to get into Hell, they would need to use the gates. And those gates are all fully under Federation control."

His words made the soldier's eyes light up in recognition and relief.

"You came through the Federation gates?" the man asked quickly.

"Yes."

For the first time since arriving, the soldier looked more relieved.

"Then you are Aurora too," he said with certainty. "You are one of ours."

He inhaled deeply and observed Michael again, this time with far more familiarity than caution. His gaze briefly flicked to Spartan, who stood precisely one step behind Michael's right shoulder, posture perfect and eyes alert.

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