The day of Ang's appointment with Preston had finally arrived.
Before setting out, he carefully arranged World City's affairs.
The campaign on Brook Prairie had entered a stable phase. The Great Warriors and Archmages each performed their duties, while resource allocation, logistical transport, and soldier training proceeded in perfect order.
Some of the companions left behind by the elves had gradually integrated into life in World City, establishing an initial trust with the elves who had previously lived by the World Tree.
As Ang looked upon the increasingly prosperous city, he felt slightly relieved. At last, he could set down his burdens and personally head to the Empire.
When he stepped out of the teleportation square, a familiar scent washed over him—
This was Akreli, the very heart of the Empire.
Only this time, he did not suppress himself as he usually did.
"Boom—"
Ang shot into the air, hovering high above like a meteor.
He unleashed his aura without holding anything back.
An invisible pressure swept outward like a tsunami. Pedestrians in the square froze mid-step, while the weaker ones turned pale, as though an invisible giant hand were crushing the breath from their lungs.
Within a few breaths, the surroundings fell utterly silent. Only heartbeats and breathing seemed unusually clear.
Less than three minutes later, three figures came speeding over on Magic Brooms.
Their black robes snapped in the wind. The leading mage shouted, "Who dares fly freely over Akreli? Descend immediately!"
His voice was still stern with rebuke, but when he saw Ang's eyes, calm as the sea, his heart suddenly tightened.
Ang said nothing and merely drew back his aura.
The oppressive feeling between heaven and earth vanished instantly, as though everything just now had been an illusion.
Yet the three mages knew that it had