In the distance, the roar of engines drew closer.
"They got here pretty fast!"
Ian narrowed his eyes.
He looked toward the end of the forest path.
Piercing sirens shattered the village's peace. Two heavily built armored vehicles painted dark grey drove onto the dirt road, their tires kicking up clouds of dust. Like an ominous omen, the dark grey armored vehicles tore through the morning mist.
Prominent Black Eagle insignias were painted on their bodies. Machine guns were mounted on their roofs, and their broad tires were as thick as those of tanks. They looked like genuine armored vehicles built for the battlefield.
They drove into the village. The doors opened, and a squad of fully armed "security officers" jumped out. Their attire surprised Ian somewhat.
He calmly observed the uninvited visitors. These so-called "police officers" looked more like elite soldiers—they wore matching dark grey combat uniforms, strange triangular badges on their jackets, helmets and visors concealing most of their faces, and weapons that were clearly military-grade.
Ian's pupils contracted sharply.
"That's impossible..."
he murmured.
He had learned about this in history class.
He knew these people came from a terrifying dark dynasty. The disciplined movements of this militarized security force, their cold and ruthless eyes, and those symbolic insignias all declared that the information he had learned from the villagers was correct.
This was the wrong timeline. History had taken the wrong path. Frightened by Ian's magic, the villagers rushed toward the police vehicles as though they had seen saviors.
"Who called the police?"
It was standard German.
The captain was tall, with a hooked nose and eyes as sharp as knives. He swept his gaze around, and the villagers immediately began reporting in that guttural language.
Ian could not understand the German dialect, but from their gestures