Chapter 145 - Drakk, Miracle Claws - IV
The air shifted the moment General Noctis made his presence known.
He was impossible to ignore. Crimson horns, like blood-forged rubies, curved slightly backward from his forehead with a threatening elegance. His eyes, equally red, seemed to gaze straight into the soul of everyone around him, while his short, military-style white hair stood in stark contrast—like snow amidst war.
Though shorter than Drakk, standing just over two meters tall, his aura was overwhelming—an oppressive and precise power, like a living fortress. His mature build wasn’t excessively muscular, but firm, functional, and lethal.
Even Drakk felt the weight of that presence.
He gave a small respectful nod.
"General Noctis," he said firmly, "an honor."
Noctis returned the gesture with a brief nod and turned on his heels, leading them along a black stone path that wound through the mountain range like an ancient serpent. His military boots echoed rhythmically across the ground.
"A special mount has been sent from the capital," he informed them. "And a guide will accompany you safely to your next destination."
Drakk walked beside him—heavy, silent steps.
"The stories about you don’t do you justice," he commented, glancing sideways.
There’s an old premise in the world: the strong recognize the strong.