Having set eyes on the Brotherhood's home, Ethan swerved away, keeping pace with the shape he had noticed running down the paved route leading out of the retreat. The darkness of the early evening made it a little challenging, but the mana that had been wafting out of it—which [Sphinx's Gaze] had picked up—had already stabilized, leaving a barely visible outline sprinting away. It slowed for a second, then suddenly turned, disappearing under the canopy.

To try and lose him, most likely, Ethan thought. Or maybe it was a trap. Either way, he wasn't about to stop the pursuit and in any case, he had been already flying directly toward the figure, so barely a couple of seconds after it dove into the woods, he broke through the canopy himself and floated, head turning left and right as he tried to pick up on movements or any sound to track the runner.

His mana burned away as [Sphinx's Gaze] scanned the surroundings, picking up random mana fluctuations that looked like blue and green hazes, disappearing as soon as you focused on them until finally, he saw a higher concentration of the stuff drifting out from behind a large trunk a dozen yards away.

Slowly, he hovered closer, pouring more magic into his wings so they'd carry him without him needing to move them. He kept his eyes and ears wide open, waiting for any signal or sound. If the runner wasn't behind the tree, then that meant he'd lost him. Which was fine. At the end of the day, he was here to remove the Brotherhood's pylon and deal with their leadership. And ideally, he'd find the slimy caster who most likely made the attack on New Dawn happen.

The same caster who also happened to have a stealth ability. Like the figure who'd tried to run as soon as they saw his approach.

As he closed in on the tree in question, circling around so he could get a good look, a bolt of sickly green shot from behind it, lighting up the forest and bathing it in eerie light.

Ethan didn't even dodge. He shot forward, hand extended as he pulled back the claws, and the green spell splashed harmlessly against his chest, barely tingling his scales as something cold and foreign tried to slip past his scales, only for their magic to quickly weaken into nothingness as Ethan bulldozed his way forward, tearing into the branches separating him from the robed figure.

"Wait! Waitwait—"

Ethan caught the man by the collar with his scaled hand, shoving him down to the ground and cutting off his pleading. With his other hand, he ignited his second hand to get a good look at the face. The man's groaning stopped and he froze, his hands still on Ethan's as he tried and failed to free himself, his familiar pale face staring up fearfully at him.

"W-We can talk about—"

Ethan kicked off, slamming the man down as he floated a few feet higher. It was the same mage from yesterday. The one who'd come with the axe-wielding barbarian and the necromancer. The one who'd gone off on his weird spiel about power and hypocrisy before scurrying away like the rat he was.

The curse mage wheezed, hands held up in front of him as he grimaced and struggled to breathe, having had the wind knocked out of him while a wave of cold fury spread out from Ethan's guts.

"There's nothing to talk about," Ethan said, the [Water Jet] pressurizing at the tip of his finger. "You wanted to force my people into joining yours. We refused. You attacked. We defended. And now you attacked again. I'm ending this. I should have ended it yesterday."

The man's panicked stammered suddenly twisted. "It's not that—"

The [Water Jet] shot out, impacting with a barely audible hiss and bringing the woods back to a comfortable silence. Another member of the Brotherhood went down.

Ethan landed on his feet, shoulders sagging a little. The weight of the day was growing heavier, and it wasn't even close to being done. Taking a second to collect the fragments and fly back up, he steeled himself and headed toward the cabins.

He hoped that not every single person in the Brotherhood were as complicit as the leadership in the attack. He didn't know if he had it in him to start attacking randoms, but he also didn't know what to do with them. For now, he'd focus on the leadership.

A couple minutes later, Ethan entered the settlement. His spellforms were all active. His traits were bolstering his physical and spiritual attributes, and mana was flowing powerfully through his frame. At any second, he could activate Scorching Ascendancy for another boost, and his Prime Manifestation was ready to be deployed as well so without further ado, he dropped in front of the pylon, ignoring the ringing shouts that filled the air as dust and soil were kicked out around him.

A quick scan told him that only a handful had made it past level 70. And not by much, either. So he focused on the pylon, ignoring the ever-increasing clamor.

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Foreign administrator is attempting to claim the pylon.

Current administrator has been notified…

The pylon can be claimed if the current administrator or their representatives do not contest in the next 60 minutes.

Looking away from the crystalline obelisk, Ethan observed his surroundings. The buildings were a mix of hold wooden cabins and new ones that would have been created by the pylon. Figures were peering at him from windows, while a handful were already on the ground, mostly men with weapons and wands drawn, pointing at him.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Where's Zac?"

"He's on his way!" shouted something from beyond. "Don't attack! Keep him there."

Ethan just stared impassively, content to wait for now until he made sense of the people of this settlment. Already, he could make out a couple of groups. There were the handful confronting him, all high level, and all standing in front of him with various expressions of concern and worry. Which would make sense, he guessed, considering his level and considering most of their fighting force had gone to New Dawn and wouldn't be coming back.

Beyond them, huddled together in small groups, were the lower level people. Around forty of them, by his estimate. Some were younger. Some older. But most were middle aged. Their faces ranged from anger, fear, shock and he could even pick up some hope. But the more he looked about, the more hostility he was picking up. So even the civilians had to be divided in two groups.

The friend and families, and the servants.

Of course the Brotherhood would bring in those they knew. It wasn't as exclusive of a faction as they claimed it to be. Only, they'd tried as hard as they could to poach as many powerful and talented individuals as they could manage. These people were clutching their weapons, but they kept looking back at one of the cabin in which someone just rushed in.

Probably their leader's.

As for the last group, the servants, these were the most hopeful, no matter how tense the situation looked. The shouts and questions were making them jump and huddle together more, backing away as much as they could from the central plaza and the pylon. Ethan was willing to bet that these so called 'warriors' weren't cooking or cleaning after themselves, so they needed people to do that for them. Whether they wanted to or not. And while at first they didn't look as mistreated as those from the ex-military settlement, the fearful looks and hope told him enough.

59 minutes until the pylon can be forcefully claimed.

Ethan sighed. The servants were to be kept out of the fight as much as possible. The allies go down if they participate. The warriors go down if they attack. The leader dies. Because this attack—considering the numbers that have been sent to New Dawn—couldn't have happened without his accord.

Ethan looked up as whispers and relieved expressions turned as a tall, smiling man came out of the cabin. He was in his late twenties. Maybe thirties. He was shirtless, chiseled muscles gleaming under the moon light as he ran a towel through his long brown hair. The man continued his slow approach, eyes sizing him up as his people parted to let him through. He oozed confidence. His smile never dropped, but he could see the towel slowing a little before he threw it aside and came to a stop.

"Didn't know we were getting visitors, or I'd skipped on that last rift," the man said, a rueful chuckle on his lips. "You must be Ethan."

[Human (II) - Level 81]

When Ethan didn't react, the man nodded, letting out a tired sigh. "Well, I wish we would have met under better circumstances. But this can still be salvaged, I'm sure," he said confidently. "So how about—"

Ethan exploded forward, a blur of bronze scales and red glowing horns, and before the surrounding spectators could process what was happening, his scaled fist drove into the man's solar plexus with a thunderous crack.

Zacharia's confident smile twisted into shock as he rocketed backward, smashing through the cabin wall in an explosion of splintered wood and debris. The entire structure groaned and collapsed inward with a deafening crash.

Silence fell over the settlement, for a beat before screams and shouts rang out, and spells and projectiles fell harmlessly on Ethan's scales as his gaze bore into the collapsing cabin as his claws extended and horns glowed.

Then Zacharia's laughter echoed from the wreckage—low, delighted, and completely unhinged, and Ethan readied himself, eyes narrowed. Zacharia had seen him come. He hadn't even guarded against Ethan's strike, and while that punch should have pulverized his bones and innards, Ethan had barely felt any give.

A vindictive little twitch of a nod pulled on his chin as he stepped forward. Good. He didn't want this to end too fast.

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