This time, Lyla rode alongside him, mounted atop the massive dragon Myrga. They pushed forward at their absolute limit, tearing through the sky without any attempt to conserve strength. Ethan even spammed Swift Flight Form, a skill he rarely used this aggressively in the air, triggering it the moment its cooldown ended. It was a universal movement ability shared across all his forms, and right now, he had no reason to hold back.

In Panther Form, it manifested as Wild Charge, a brutal leap that carried him straight onto an enemy's back. In Bear Form, it became Furious Charge, a straight-line rush with the weight and momentum of a charging warrior. When traveling as a stag, it turned into a powerful bounding leap that devoured ground in seconds. Underwater, the skill transformed into Torrent Dash, increasing swim speed by one hundred and fifty percent for six seconds.

In Eagle Form, it was Swift Flight, the same one he was abusing now, granting a one hundred and fifty percent speed boost for six seconds at a time.

Thankfully, Lyla's mount, or rather, her pet, was far from ordinary. Myrga was a high-tier hybrid, both a functional mount and a combat pet, equipped with its own acceleration abilities. Without those, it would have been impossible for it to keep pace with Ethan's reckless speed, even with its massive wings.

Half an hour later, Williams and his nearly forty-thousand-strong force witnessed something surreal unfolding in the distance, their own aerial bombardment playing out before them from a different angle.

'Is that… are they doing what I think they're doing?'

Another thirty minutes passed.

Then, on the WCC Radio live feed, two familiar figures appeared on the far horizon.

This time, Ethan was not in Eagle Form. Instead, he stood upright beside Lyla, both of them positioned calmly on the broad crown of Myrga's head. The gesture was deliberate, unmistakably so. Myrga's cruising speed was intentionally slow, slow enough that the broadcast's god's-eye camera had no trouble locking onto them from an extreme distance, ensuring the entire world could see their approach.

Inside the studio, Trina Starr and her co-host finally snapped to attention.

"Look," she exclaimed, leaning forward. "Druid God has finally appeared!"

"And his constant companion, Moonbeam," the co-host added smoothly. "Truly a pair befitting legend."

"Enough poetry," he continued a beat later, a sly edge creeping into his voice. "Druid God is only showing up now. Where has he been all this time? Care to enlighten our viewers, Ms. Starr?"

Trina let out a long, deliberate hum and turned her gaze on him, eyes sharp enough to cut. The man was the station director's nephew, a snake who never missed an opportunity to undermine her. His assignment as her assistant during this high-profile broadcast was anything but coincidence.

Still, Trina Starr was a veteran for a reason. She would not stumble here.

"Druid God has always been an enigma," she replied evenly. "He appears and disappears like a ghost, moving beyond the sight of ordinary players. What he does in the shadows is far outside the guesswork of mere mortals like us. But his presence here now tells us one thing, the answer is coming. Let's watch and see."

She finished with a pointed smile, neatly tossing the conversation back at him.

He hesitated, lips parting as if to respond, then thought better of it. After a brief pause, he nodded and let the moment pass.

Beside Ethan, Lyla wore a faint, amused smile. Watching him stand so rigidly, playing the part of the distant, untouchable master, was genuinely funny to her. Beneath their feet, Myrga snorted, its nostrils flaring in open displeasure. Having Ethan stand on its head was, in its eyes, a deep and personal insult.

The old Ethan would have preferred to remain unseen. This kind of high-profile entrance was new territory for him. In the past, stealth had been part of a long game, a way to quietly accumulate wealth and power. Now, with Amber Zane's return and the near-limitless resources she promised, wealth itself was losing its meaning. Money was no longer the goal, it was merely a tool.

He checked the in-game time. Dawn was breaking. In the real world, it was likely seven or eight in the morning.

He had chosen the western fortress first for a reason. Victor was due to log off soon. Once the situation there was resolved, Victor would need to accompany Amber to the black market auction. Beyond that, Victor had another task waiting for him, one that could not be delayed any longer, finding Shadowstrike and dealing with him permanently.

Ethan's last call with Victor confirmed that the enemy Commander at the western fortress was down to twenty-five percent health. Thirty more minutes, and the fortress would fall. Meanwhile, Williams's force had begun engaging their own Commander, steadily grinding it down to around eighty percent.

Everything was moving exactly as planned.

Below them, the Renegade Alliance forces erupted in excitement the moment they spotted the figures in the sky. Guild chat exploded with updates and confirmations, one fortress was nearly down, another had already dropped to twenty percent. Their turn was finally approaching. Everyone had heard rumors about Ethan's method, but knowing this was the final act made the anticipation almost unbearable.

Yet Ethan and Lyla did not descend.

Instead, they remained suspended in the air, hovering calmly between the waiting army and the towering fortress walls, their silhouettes framed by the pale glow of the early morning sky. The sight was dramatic enough to draw every eye upward.

Confused whispers rippled through the ranks below.

"What's the boss doing?" "No idea, but it looks badass." "Probably timing it." "I just wanna see the egg-laying thing again!"

If Ethan had heard that last comment, his reaction would not have been suitable for broadcast.

At the front of the army, Leo was anything but patient. He had been hammering Ethan's private chat nonstop.

"Boss! Let's go! What's the hold-up? Hello? You mute now? When do we move? Hey! HEY!"

[Ding… System Alert: The user has blocked you. Message not sent.]

"Goddamn it!" Leo shouted, the last two words leaving his mouth instead of his keyboard.

Ethan had finally snapped and blacklisted him. That, however, did not stop Leo. He tilted his head back, cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone, and shouted toward the sky with zero shame.

"Boooooss! Hurry it up! I gotta log out for breakfast! My stomach's growling! Everyone's starving!"

The battlefield had been steeped in tension until that moment, quiet except for low murmurs, the kind of suffocating stillness that kept viewers glued to their screens.

Leo's voice obliterated it instantly.

Up above, Ethan had been standing with one hand clasped behind his back, posture rigid and composed, every bit the distant master overseeing the battlefield.

Then he slipped.

Not enough to fall, but enough to ruin everything.

"That idiot… that absolute moron!" Ethan hissed, his carefully maintained composure cracking.

Beside him, Lyla finally lost the fight and burst out laughing. She knew how much effort he had put into cultivating that mysterious, untouchable image, and with a single shout, Leo had turned it into a joke.

"Gah! That pain in my ass," Ethan growled, grinding his teeth.

"Hehehe… so what now, oh mighty one?" Lyla teased, eyes still sparkling with amusement.

"What else?" Ethan said, letting out a long, defeated sigh. "We wait. At least until the system announcement hits. Then we move."

He hesitated, then reluctantly removed Leo from his blacklist and sent a single message.

"Shut up. Wait."

He had no intention of explaining further.

Lyla nodded, already understanding. She knew exactly which announcement Ethan was waiting for, the official capture confirmations from the eastern and western fortresses.

---

Far to the north, in the outer reaches of the Blackridge region near the Russian border, a lone figure stood before another Advanced Fortress.

The person was wrapped in a tattered gray cloak that fluttered faintly in the cold wind. From a certain angle below, one could glimpse two dim, greenish orbs of flame hovering where the head should have been, watching the fortress in silence.

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