The concept of "travel" in the world of Elias usually involved bumping along dirt roads in a wooden box pulled by horses, feeling every rock and pothole for weeks on end.

But for Damien Voss, travel had just been reinvented.

VROOOOOOM.

A low, guttural roar tore through the silence of the mountainous highway connecting the Dwarven Kingdom to the Human Empire.

It wasn't the roar of a beast. It was the hum of a Void-Combustion Engine spinning at 5,000 RPM.

The Fenrir easily glided. Its massive, runic-treaded tires ate the asphalt with a hungry hiss.

The Dragon-Scale alloy chassis, painted a matte, light-absorbing black, cut through the wind like a arrow.

Inside the cabin, it was terrifyingly quiet. The soundproofing runes Brokk had installed worked perfectly, reducing the engine's scream to a powerful, rhythmic purr that vibrated in their chests.

"We are moving so fast," Leona whispered, pressing her face against the reinforced glass window.

"The trees... they look like a green blur. Is this what it feels like to be an arrow?"

She was sitting in the back, nursing her bandaged arm. The Void Decay from Valerius's attack had stopped spreading, thanks to the Dragon Blood treatment Damien had given her, but the hand was still a blackened, useless ruin. Yet, despite the pain, her golden eyes were wide with childlike wonder.

"We're doing 120," Damien said from the driver's seat, his hands resting lightly on the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

"And we aren't even in high gear."

He glanced at the dashboard. It was a masterpiece of Dwarven engineering, crystal dials glowing with mana readings, fuel pressure, and shield integrity.

"This feels... illegal," Lyra muttered from the passenger seat. She was clutching the door handle with a white-knuckled grip.

"No carriage should move this fast without wings. It's unnatural."

"It's technology!" Damien grinned, shifting gears. The engine growled, and the car surged forward, pressing them back into the plush dragon-leather seats.

Isabelle, sitting in the back with Leona, was happily eating a bag of dried magma-jerky she had bought in Ironforge.

"Who knew something seat warmers could make such a comfort difference."

Damien checked the rearview mirror. The smog of the Dwarven Capital had long since faded into the distance. They were alone on the winding mountain pass.

"We made good time," Damien noted.

"At this speed, we'll reach the Human Border in an hour. Usually, that's a much longer trip."

"The Human Border," Lyra's expression darkened.

"That's where the problem starts. The Second Prince has declared Martial Law. The border checkpoints will be fortified. They'll have True-Sight Wards and heavy cavalry."

"Let them have cavalry," Leona grunted. "I can ram them."

"No ramming," Damien said.

"The Fenrir is a prototype. I don't want to scratch the paint on the first day."

He tapped a purple rune on the dashboard.

[System: Stealth Mode - Standby]

"Besides," Damien's eyes flashed with a mix of blue and gold.

"We aren't the same as we were when we first arrived."

…....…

[The Southern Border Checkpoint - Human Empire]

The checkpoint was less of a gate and more of a fortress.

A massive stone wall blocked the mountain pass. Dozens of Imperial Knights in shining steel armor patrolled the battlements.

A heavy portcullis barred the road, and a team of Battle-Mages stood ready, scanning every approaching carriage with glowing crystal lenses.

"Halt!" The Captain of the Guard shouted at a merchant wagon ahead of them.

"Inspection! By order of the Regent, all cargo must be searched for contraband!"

The merchant looked terrified as the soldiers tore apart his crates, tossing vegetables into the mud.

"They're thorough," Lyra noted, her Elven sight zooming in from a mile away.

"They have anti-illusion totems. If we try to use a disguise spell, it will trigger the alarm."

"Who said anything about illusion?" Damien slowed the car down, pulling off the road and into the shadow of a cliff overhang about a mile from the gate.

"Isabelle, Leona. Hold on to something."

Damien pressed the purple button.

HISS-CLICK.

The Fenrir changed.

The mana-vents on the hood closed. The glowing runes on the wheels dimmed until they were invisible. The engine note dropped from a roar to a barely audible whisper.

And then, the car vanished.

Instead of turning invisible, the Dragon-Scale alloy shifted its refractive index.

It bent the light around the chassis, turning the car into a shimmering distortion of the air, like heat haze on a summer day.

[Stealth Mode: Engaged]

"Stealth mode," Damien whispered. "Sound dampeners at 100%. Thermal masking active."

He eased the car back onto the road.

They crept toward the checkpoint.

The knights on the wall were vigilant. They scanned the road.

"Do you see anything?" one guard asked, squinting.

"Just wind," the other replied. "And dust."

They looked right at the Fenrir. But they didn't see a black car. They saw a slight ripple in the air, which their brains dismissed as a trick of the light.

Damien drove right up to the line of waiting carriages.

"The gate is closed," Lyra whispered, her heart pounding. "How are we going to—"

"Watch," Damien said.

He waited.

A heavy supply wagon from the Empire was leaving the checkpoint, heading into the Dwarven lands. The guards began to winch the heavy portcullis up to let it pass.

Creating a gap.

"Now."

Damien slammed the accelerator.

Without even revving the engine, he dumped a massive pulse of Shadow Mana into the Void Core.

VOOM.

The Fenrir instantly launched!

It shot forward like a railgun slug.

The guards at the gate felt a sudden, violent gust of wind.

"Whoa!" A knight stumbled, his helmet knocked askew by the pressure wave.

"What was that?!"

"Wind gust!" another shouted, holding onto his spear.

The Fenrir shot through the open gap under the portcullis, missing the outgoing wagon by inches.

Within a few seconds, they cleared the wall. They cleared the killing zone.

They were in the Empire.

Damien didn't slow down. He kept the pedal floored until they were five miles past the border, hidden by the twisting forest roads.

Only then did he disengage Stealth Mode.

HISS.

The car shimmered back into visibility, the black paint gleaming in the twilight.

"We... we just drove past an entire battalion," Leona breathed, her eyes wide.

"And they didn't even know we were there."

"That is the power of technology," Damien smiled, relaxing his grip on the wheel.

"And soon, we will be the masters of this technology!"

He looked at his team in the rearview mirror.

They were smiling. But beneath the excitement, there was a heavy realisation settling in.

They weren't just a ragtag party of misfits anymore. They were riding in a vehicle that no King possessed. They had resources that could buy cities.

"We're getting close to Gravestone," Lyra said, looking at the map. She traced the line to the fortress.

"Yeah," Damien said softly.

The mood in the car shifted. The adrenaline faded, replaced by a melancholy silence.

"When we get there," Isabelle said, folding her empty snack bag.

"We have to split up, don't we?"

Damien looked at the road ahead. The sun was setting, painting the sky in colors of bruised purple and gold.

"We have to," Damien said. "The world is too big for us to conquer it from one room. You need to grow. I need to grow."

He looked at Leona's ruined hand.

"We nearly died in Ironforge. We nearly died in the Elven Capital. We survived because we were lucky, and because we had help."

"But in sixteen years," Damien's voice hardened. "Luck won't be enough"

"Although I can't tell you why, but in 16 years we need to be strong enough to stand firmly in the central continent"

"Only then can we survive to the end"

Recalling the fact that the orginal plot was getting closer now than ever, Damien knew they could not afford to slack

Everyone had to be come stronger, much stronger than they currently where.

A harsh, but true realisation.

Leona looked at her hand. She clenched her fist, the phantom sensation of fingers she no longer had causing her to wince.

"I'm tired of being weak," Leona whispered. "I want to be stronger!"

"I want to be a Ghost," Lyra added, touching her bow.

"I want to be... Rich," Isabelle decided, her eyes gleaming. "Rich enough to give the young master anything and everything he wants"

Damien laughed. It was a warm sound.

"Then let's go home," Damien said, hitting the gas.

"We have one last night together before our legends begin."

The Fenrir roared, speeding into the darkness, carrying four future legends toward their destiny.

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