The city was evacuated to the territory of the Fiti River. At the moment, the president is trying to find an explanation for why a dormant volcano suddenly turned active, as well as a volcanic eruption. Crystal stands next to the president in a red robe and a black mask.
The mayor of the city rarely gets into the president's problems, but he doesn't leave his side today.
"can we go to the camp for safety too?" Says the mayor trying to keep up with them.
The president replies without even looking at the mayor, as if he is trying hard to ignore his presence.
"Of course, of course. Just don't get in the way."
"I mean you, sir... The president?" he said uncertainly.
The President sighs irritably, finally stopping. He turns around to face the mayor, looking down at him with condescension.
"What is it?" he asks brusquely.
Crystal stopped, also looking around.
"there are monsters all around, and now there's lava. The task is very simple to survive until tomorrow. So why can't we just wait out the day?"
The President's expression is stern and disapproving.
"You just don't understand the big picture, do you?" he says curtly. "I have duties to fulfill, responsibilities to this city. I can't just hunker down and wait for the danger to pass like a coward."
Monsters are approaching them all, an army of monsters. These monsters somewhat resemble chickens, but they are not covered with feathers, but with scales and wings like bats.
They're all waiting for orders. The mayor looks at the monsters in horror in a daze.
The President remains unfazed, standing tall as he surveys the monstrous army before him.
"Interesting," he muses, tilting his head slightly. "If they take orders… then perhaps they can be useful."
He steps forward, authority radiating from him as if testing their obedience—his voice firm and commanding.
"Stand down." A beat. Unless you'd prefer to find out just how expendable you really are." His hand twitches toward the concealed weapon at his side.
"How much older are you than me?" a mysterious voice asks. Everyone heard that voice, including the mayor.
The President freezes, his eyes narrowing. He doesn't turn—doesn't react beyond the slight tightening of his jaw.
"Irrelevant," he answers coldly. "Age is just another number in a war."
Crystal shifts uneasily beside him, grip tightening on her weapon as she scans for the source of the voice. The mayor looks ready to faint, but the monsters... they pause. As if waiting for something more.
The President's eyes narrow as he assesses the newcomer in front of him. He doesn't look particularly threatening—but he has just effortlessly vanquished an entire army with a single strike. Such display of power makes the President cautious.
He straightens his suit and lifts his chin slightly, regarding the man with a cool, calculated gaze.
"And who are you?" he countered, his tone measured, betraying no emotion.
When asked , the man looks at Crystal. Crystal, in turn, creates two swords from crystals and gets into a fighting stance.
Drago understood Yushai in front of him. The mayor fainted.
The President watches the exchange between Crystal, hand still lingering near the concealed weapon at his hip. He studies the man with dark, unreadable eyes—noting every detail, every movement.
Then, with a subtle nod, he gestures for Crystal to stand down. Her swords vanish, but her body remains tense, ready to act at the first sign of hostile intent.
The President takes a step forward, his voice low and demanding.
"What do you want?"
Suddenly, Yushai's phone rings. He answers the phone. The conversation was quite short.
"I'm listening," he said dryly. Then there were the words "is that it?"
After some time, a short "no"
"Then don't," and with that, Yushai hangs up.
The President and Crystal both watch in cautious curiosity as Yushai finishes his phone call. The President's expression remains stoic, concealing whatever he might be thinking, only the slightest narrowing of his eyes hinting at his suspicion.
Crystal, meanwhile, seems less patient, still on guard, her hands balling into fists. The moment of silence after the call is finally broken by the President's voice—low, sharp, and tinged with barely concealed irritation.
"And that was…?" he prompts coldly.
"It doesn't matter," he steps forward, "let's continue our conversation."
The President does not flinch as Yushai steps closer. If anything, his posture stiffens—unimpressed by the dismissal of his question. His voice is frigid when he speaks again:
"Everything matters." A beat. Especially when uninvited guests appear out of thin air and annihilate threats with no explanation."
His fingers twitch—not toward a weapon this time, but in impatience. Crystal remains still, watching Yushai like a predator ready to lunge if needed. The tension in the air is suffocating.