At the courtyard gate, Dave Gray froze, his face contorting into a grimace of awkwardness. "Major Vierkant," he stammered, "this is... we... he..." He gestured helplessly towards me, his words stumbling over each other like a child caught red-handed sneaking out to play.

Unable to bear Dave Gray's fumbling, someone pulled him back.

Ethan Atzmon, who had been standing near the outer wall, straightened up and approached the gate.

As fellow three-star H.A.R.M. majors, they ought to have been on more familiar terms.

Yet, Atzmon hesitated, his voice clipped and words measured. "I've been assigned to investigate a vampire-related incident," he stated, gaze fixed on Vierkant. "Kane and I have agreed to collaborate on this mission. I request your permission for his temporary leave."

Atzmon stepped back, joining the other agents who stood waiting by the wall. Dave Gray, the electrician, a diminutive man, and a woman with a ponytail formed a silent, watchful presence beside him.

Their numbers were thin. Including Major Atzmon, there were only five of them. The rest of their team remained stationed in Pinewood County and wouldn't be back for the time being.

Despite his reluctance to confront Max Vierkant, Atzmon felt compelled to step forward, given the circumstances.

Max Vierkant didn't even turn around, his back a wall of indifference. The commotion at the gate barely registered as he spat out two words, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

"Go away."

The air crackled with tension. Ethan Atzmon's hands, previously relaxed, clenched into fists. His breath hitched, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. He was a prodigy, born into a lineage of martial arts masters, accustomed to respect and deference. This casual dismissal was an affront to his pride.

He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to remain steady. "I'm simply here to collect Kane for a mission," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "I have no intention of causing trouble."

The woman with the ponytail scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Spare us the formalities, Ethan. If the admiral has a problem, let our father deal with it." She cracked her knuckles, a predatory grin spreading across her face. "Let's just grab the kid and be done with it."

The situation escalated rapidly. Dave Gray's hand instinctively reached for his weapon, the electrician’s muscle coiled, and the short man crouched, his narrowed eyes locked on me.

Max Vierkant finally turned, his gaze sweeping over the assembled agents. "You're welcome to ask your family for anything you need," he said, his voice laced with mockery. "Like when you first reached the Wave Realm, and your father gifted you a mid-stage Wave Realm subordinate to help you secure your major's rank. I, on the other hand, am just a commoner who relies on my own hard work and talent."

The mockery vanished, replaced by a chilling coldness. "But you can try stepping over this gate," he challenged, his eyes locked on Atzmon. "Let's see how your family background compares to my talent."

"Oh, I'm trembling in fear," Noa Atzmon purred. She patted her ample bosom, a mocking expression on her charming face. She stepped over the gate, her short sword gleaming in the morning light. Suddenly, she turned her gaze at me, "Hey, kid, come over here." she beckoned.

All eyes turned towards me.

Everyone suddenly realized that in the midst of the confrontation, I had calmly walked back into the house, retrieved my sword, and returned to the courtyard.

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Under Max Vierkant's watchful gaze, I secured the black scabbard at my waist, brushed past him, and joined the H.A.R.M. agents. "I'm ready," I said simply.

Ethan Atzmon stared at me, his surprise evident. Was it really that easy? he wondered. Had he overcomplicated the situation? Perhaps there was no need for permission or confrontation. Kane was new to H.A.R.M., with no current assignments. He was free to come and go as he pleased.

Noa Atzmon's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a flicker of alarm. "Oh no," she breathed, there's a world of difference between a simple argument resolved by a duel and thoroughly provoking him.

She glanced towards Max Vierkant. His face remained impassive, but his muscles twitched beneath his skin, coiled springs ready to unleash their devastating power.

In the blink of an eye, Vierkant vanished, leaving only a faint afterimage in his wake. Even Noa, a mid-stage Wave Realmer herself, was momentarily stunned by the sheer speed of his movement.

He reappeared mere inches from the group, his hand reaching for my nape with the effortless grace of someone plucking a ripe fruit. There was no intricate technique, no ostentatious display of martial skill—only raw, overwhelming power.

Casual but undeniable!

Ethan Atzmon's heart pounded in his chest. He had always known Vierkant was stronger, but the sheer disparity in their abilities was a chilling revelation.

"I told you," Vierkant's voice was a low growl, "not until you've learned."

His palm surged forward, a wordless menace lingering in the air. I reacted instantly, my body twisting with an almost serpentine grace. My right hand, once dangling idly at my side, darted upward. My fingertip carved an impossible arc, evading Vierkant's palm and lightly tapping his forearm.

The movement was so subtle, so effortless, it seemed almost like an accident.

The moment I raised my hand, a flicker of recognition crossed Max Vierkant's eyes. The inexplicable familiarity of my movement gave him pause, but he hesitated, reluctant to trust his instincts.

Then, as my fingertips grazed his forearm, the hesitation vanished, replaced by a surge of fury. The realization of his misjudgment, the knowledge that he had underestimated his opponent, ignited a fire within him.

With a guttural roar, Vierkant forcefully withdrew his strength, his body recoiling like a tightly wound spring suddenly released. His entire strong, sturdy frame shot backward like an arrow.

He retreated more than ten yards, his boots digging into the earth as he regained his balance. The air crackled with the intensity of his suppressed rage.

The onlookers watched in stunned silence, their confusion palpable. Why had Vierkant jump over only to jump back?

Max Vierkant stood frozen, his head lowered. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive.

Only Noa Atzmon noticed something was amiss. She curiously looked at him, wondering what Vierkant was hiding.

Despite his efforts to hide it, his right arm trembled faintly, hanging uselessly at his side. Though no visible wounds marred the limb, it was evident that its strength and vitality had been sapped.

"Anything else?" My voice sliced through the tense silence. My hand rested lightly on my scabbard, poised to respond should he press further.

The question seemed to pierce Vierkant's pride. A flush of shame crept up his neck, staining his cheeks. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face twitching as he fought to maintain his composure. The taste of blood filled his mouth, a bitter reminder of his humiliation.

Vierkant was not afraid of a fight. Even now, with his entire right arm sealed, he still had sixty percent of his strength left.

But there was no point...

His martial arts talent, his most prized possession, had been effortlessly eclipsed. After just a week of study, I could instantly find the essence vein. My mastery of Shadow Touch was far beyond the basics. If I had struck with slightly more force, his right arm wouldn't have just been temporarily disabled, it would have been crippled forever.

He had no choice but to stand silent, his head bowed, his pride shattered. Even the simple act of raising his gaze felt like an insurmountable challenge.

"When will you be back?" he finally managed, his voice hoarse and strained.

"When did I say I was coming back?" I replied firmly.

“What?!” Vierkant's head snapped up, his eyes wide with a mixture of anger and panic. The thought of Kane leaving, of abandoning the opportunity to train under the admiral, was inconceivable. This courtyard, this sanctuary of power and prestige, was a coveted prize, a dream that countless warriors would kill for. How could anybody not want to stay here?

If Kane left, how would he justify it to Rose, his senior sister? How could he allow such an exceptional talent to escape his grasp?

"This is Rose's order," Vierkant blurted out, his voice desperate. "Don't defy her wishes!"

The outburst stunned the onlookers. The arrogant, unyielding Vierkant was pleading, his composure crumbling before their eyes.

Only Ethan Atzmon seemed to grasp the situation. He remembered his own childhood, how he'd invoke his elder sister's name when confronted with challenges beyond his abilities.

But... what couldn't Vierkant handle? Surely it couldn't be Kane, could it?

He turned to study the young man standing beside him.