Ryan sat in the back seat, watching the scenery race past outside the window, when he suddenly asked, "Can that field of yours really force any supernatural entity to reveal itself?"
"As long as they're more than five centimeters off the ground." Dean turned around from the passenger seat with a grin. "So you'd better not get any ideas about flying in."
"I don't have that ability," Ryan said flatly. "But I know some people do. If Heaven and Hell really launch a large-scale attack, they'll send units capable of operating at high altitude—certain high-ranking angels, or flying demon variants, for instance."
Bobby rubbed his chin. "So we need anti-air defenses?"
"What we need is to extend the reveal range upward," Ryan said. "My abilities are mainly related to contracts and gambling, but I've lived for eight hundred years and seen quite a few formations. With enough materials and energy, I might be able to help adjust your field's 'detection height.'"
"Our range is about three meters, what Lohr called 'three feet above your head.' If you really can extend it further, that would be great." Sam glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "When we get there, talk to the president."
Two hours later, at the Balance Field Hunter Command Center.
The atmosphere was more tense than ever.
On the massive tactical holographic map, the area representing Hell's defensive line flashed with urgent red light.
The three-dimensional projection showed dozens of rhythmic tremor sources appearing roughly twenty kilometers outside the perimeter, as though colossal beasts beneath the ground were beating drums in unison.
"The tremor frequency is accelerating," the monitor reported quickly. "Energy readings are continuously rising and have already surpassed the standard for a Level Three demon tide. The sources are also moving, advancing toward the defensive line