The Limits of Hatred (I, 8K, No Updates These Past Two Days

The Limits of Hatred (I, 8K, No Updates These Past Two Days Due to a Flare-Up of Tenosynovitis)

Sevatar was the first to step down from the grav-car. Even without his armor, his current weight made the machine rise noticeably higher off the ground.

This displeased him somewhat, and made Iskandar Khayon, who followed close behind, rub his wrist.

He used this strange little gesture to conceal his emotions—but how could it possibly escape the perception of the Night's Firstborn?

Yet although Sevatar understood the matter perfectly well, he did not act in his usual manner. He did not even say a word, as though he had not noticed Khayon's mockery at all. He merely turned sideways and gave the Aquila salute to a squad of War Hounds approaching from nearby.

They immediately stopped and returned the salute. After drawing closer, however, they performed a warrior's salute as well: a simple clenched fist struck against the chest, steel clashing against steel. Several restrained, stern young faces carried an air of grim lethality beneath the night sky, yet their every subtle expression was filled with irrepressible excitement.

Clearly, Lula Salin, Khayon's scout and their guide into the city, had already reported Sevatar's arrival, and had most likely used official wording such as "visit."

"It is an honor to meet you, Jago Sevatarion," said a sergeant from the War Hounds squad.

There was a distinctive metallic clink in his voice, owing to his jaw—an entire bionic organ gleaming with metal rested there calmly. Soft gel-like material had cleverly replaced his lower lip, while sturdy alloy teeth had completely taken the place of what had once been blood and bone.

"An honor? I think it was more of a fright." Sevatar lowered his gaze to stare at him. "I have some self-awareness. In