Unholy Player

"Did you mate with an angel?" Victor asked, staring in disbelief at the pure white wings, his voice caught somewhere between awe and confusion.

"I evolved with a bird," Adyr corrected him flatly.

"Yeah—evolved. I misspoke," Victor muttered, grinning.

Henry studied the wings in silence for a few seconds, his expression unreadable. There was caution in his eyes, but also a flicker of admiration. Finally, he leaned back into his chair and exhaled through his nose.

"Alright. I’ll assign a unit to escort you to the village where your mother was attacked. From there, you can begin tracking the Cannibal and his hideout. But..." He paused, watching as Adyr calmly folded his wings back into his body like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You need to understand—the team I’m sending is only for escort and emergency support. I’m not throwing one of my main squads into the dark."

Adyr’s decision was reckless, and it was entirely his own. Even if the person standing before him were his own son, Henry couldn’t justify sending his best soldiers to die for someone else’s choice. Besides, Adyr wasn’t bound to any unit. He wasn’t the kind to take orders, and the wings on his back made it clear—he was built to act alone.

"If anything goes wrong, pull back and return. Even if all you manage to do is gather intel, that’s enough. We can build a proper strategy and strike at full strength afterward." That was all Henry could offer—and all he hoped for.

"Of course," Adyr said. He wasn’t the kind to throw his life away foolishly. But he had no intention of coming back without blood on his hands.

"Good." Once Henry was sure he understood, he typed something into his terminal, then turned the screen so Adyr could see.