There was another figure that caught Derek's eye—one he hadn't expected to see, especially not here, of all places. That dark, unruly hair, those obnoxiously perfect white teeth—he'd seen them too many times in the hallways of Paleview High. He couldn't forget that face if he tried. But seeing it now, smeared with dirt, screaming in fury while swinging an axe in the middle of a battlefield... it made Derek pause, squint, and briefly wonder if he'd been yanked into the wrong novel.
In a squad of five, a tall, dark-haired youth was fighting on the front lines. He gripped a scuffed D-Class Axe with both hands, swinging with wild, brutal efficiency. His expression was fierce—no, not quite fearless. There was fear, buried deep in his eyes, but it was hidden well beneath something far stronger: rage. Blistering, unrelenting rage. It didn't make him sloppy—it made him dangerous.
Yvalna, sharp-eyed as always, noticed Derek's sudden focus and arched a brow. "Do you know him?"
