With multiple Rank Three supernaturals flying close by, even if the overseers of the territory wanted to ignore it, they could not.
What surprised the visitors, however, was the welcome they received.
"Who dares to fly above the territory of the Drakebloods!!!"
The sky above the day side darkened instantly.
The pale brilliance that had filled the heavens was swallowed as if a veil had been torn away.
Then came a roar, followed by a vast, rolling force that crushed downward, rippling through the air. Michael felt it pass through his chest and spine, vibrating bone and blood in the same instant.
Something enormous tore through the cloud layer.
A drake.
Its body was vast. Black and blue scales overlapped like armor. Its wings stretched wide, blotting out entire sections of the dark sky as they beat once, hard enough to send shockwaves spiraling outward. Michael was shocked.
What sort of welcome was this?
No demand for identification before going all out?
Then the attack came immediately.
The drake's jaws opened, and a torrent of lightning erupted forward as a dense, spiraling beam that warped the air around it.
The sky screamed as the attack carved through space itself, aimed directly at the cluster of floating figures.
The attack crossed the distance in an instant.
Lightning compressed to the point of distortion screamed through
the air, its core so dense that space bent around it.
For the first time since entering the sixth floor, the old man finally showed his hand.
He raised one hand.
At first, nothing visible happened. Then the space in front of the group rippled, as if the sky itself had inhaled sharply.
That was when Michael felt it.
The atmosphere in front of the old man condensed violently, layers upon layers of compressed air folding inward like invisible walls stacked atop one another. Wind screamed as it was dragged into place, density skyrocketing in a heartbeat.
The lightning beam struck and stopped.
It slammed into the invisible barrier and flattened, the lightning forced to spread sideways as if it had collided with an immovable surface.
Michael's eyes widened.
Was it the power of the strike that would have sent him to the ground in tatters, or the casual display of power the old man used?
The gap between their levels felt enormous, making Michael clench his fist subconsciously.
This level of power looked distant to him, yet it was actually achievable if he chose to settle. He shook his head almost
immediately.
Thanks to his recent experiences in Hell, a trace of insecurity had crept into his heart, throwing off his usual composure.
Rather than ascend with just any law, it would be better to do so with one comparable to his undead. Otherwise, it would be embarrassing, especially if his advantage only amounted to making fire hotter.
Perhaps it was because of the old man's display of power, but the
drake in the sky did not attack again.
Behind the old man, the allies who had activated their laws to defend themselves stiffened.
They knew he was strong, but seeing it was still impressive.
Once they recovered, they all turned toward the drake with visible
anger.
The old man lowered his hand slowly, the compressed air dispersing as if it had never existed.
His gaze lifted to the drake hovering in the darkened sky.
"Is that how the Drakeblood welcome guests now?" he asked calmly.
The drake snorted.
The sound was deep and resonant, unmistakably feminine, carrying the weight of something ancient and proud. Lightning crawled lazily along the edges of her scales as her massive head tilted downward.
"Do guests normally fly over their host's head?" she replied. Her voice rolled like distant thunder. "Or do they think themselves so important that courtesy no longer applies?"
Her slit pupils narrowed.
"Old man," she continued, lips curling back just enough to reveal rows of sharp teeth, "do not mistake one blocked strike for fear. I am not
scared of you."
She had clearly realized that the old man was a suppressed Rank Four.
Though she remained arrogant on the surface, she was tense inside and had already begun sending out mental messages.
As a peak Rank Three and a Drakeblood, there were very few things in the early floors of Hell that could threaten her. That fact had fueled
her pride.
Now, regret was beginning to creep in.
With the power of her race behind her, she was not afraid of a Rank
Four. But if that Rank Four did not care about the consequences to
her race, she could die.
The old man smiled faintly.
It was not warm.
"It has been years," he said evenly, "since I have met an arrogant junior
who speaks so freely in front of me."
The drake laughed.
"Junior?" she scoffed. "Just because you aged in the void does not
make you older than me."
When one entered the realm of understanding the world, their spatial
abilities grew, especially anything related to space.
Because of that, while not perfectly accurate, perceptive supernaturals could roughly sense how deeply another had remained
in the void, where time had no fixed meaning.
Behind the old man, several of the Rank Three allies bristled. A few
allowed their auras to leak, pressure pressing outward like coiled steel
finally released.
The old man did not react.
His gaze slid away from the drake as if she were no longer worth his
attention.
He looked at the empty air beside her, at a spot where there was
nothing.
"If you're here," he said, "stop lurking."
For half a breath, nothing changed.
Then the void wrinkled.
A tall woman appeared in midair.
Black robe.
Long horns that curved back like polished obsidian.
A thin tail that swayed behind her, slow and deliberate.
Her skin was pale with a faint ash tint, and her eyes were the kind of dark that did not reflect light.
The Rank Threes reacted instantly.
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