Chapter 204: Don’t Need a Stretcher

Evren pushed himself up onto one knee, wincing slightly as his cracked ribs pulled tight against his chest. He looked up at the sky above District One.

High above the skyline, the massive purple rift that had choked the capital for days began to flicker. The dark clouds broke apart, turning into thin streams of white mist that dissolved into the wind.

Within seconds, the purple stain was completely gone, leaving behind a spotless blue sky filled with warm sunlight. All across District One, the emergency sirens that had wailed for three days suddenly went dead silent.

A heavy, stunned stillness washed over the entire city.

Then, a roar of deafening cheers erupted from the barricades half a mile away, shaking the very air as thousands of soldiers and defense personnel began screaming in wild celebration.

Dozens of military medics rushed across the tarmac, carrying stretchers, trauma kits, and crates of healing potions. Behind them, live broadcast camera drones swooped down from the sky, their lenses zooming straight in on the battered strike team.

Two field medics ran straight toward Evren with an open stretcher.

"Chairman Evren, lie down immediately!" one of the medics shouted in a panic, eyeing the torn cloth and dark bloodstains across his chest. "We have an emergency medical transport standing by!"

"I don’t need a stretcher," Evren replied, waving them off with a calm shake of his hand. "Go tend to the front line fighters over there. Some of them took heavy blast damage to their legs."

Evren walked over to an overturned alloy equipment crate and sat down. A dull, throbbing ache pulsed in his cracked ribs with every deep breath, but the bones were already beginning to set.

He pulled two vials of high-grade restorative elixir from his spatial storage ring, popped the corks with his thumb, and downed them in smooth gulps.

The warmth flowed through his chest and left shoulder. Combined with his SS-Rank Titan Body Density, the elixir rapidly accelerated his natural recovery, knitting the hairline fractures in his ribs and soothing the strained ligaments in his shoulder.

Beside him, Amber sat on a smaller supply box, holding her single remaining dragon-bone saber across her knees. A medic was gently dabbing antiseptic onto her split lip, but Amber’s golden eyes stayed locked on Evren, soft with deep relief.

Zephyra stood quietly at Evren’s right side, her weapon sheathed at her waist. Her shadow mana swirled faintly around her as she kept a watchful gaze on the perimeter.

Beyond the military cordon, the Citadel plaza was turning into chaos. Over a hundred reporters from national television stations and capital news outlets pressed against the steel barricades, while flashbulbs went off in blinding clusters.

Camera drones hovered in the air, broadcasting live footage to millions of households across the country.

Just then, Grand Arbiter Raymond Kincaid, flanked by Guild Master Walter and six high-ranking defense officers, marched toward them.

Kincaid looked at the forty battered hunters lying on the ground, then turned his gaze directly onto Silas Drake.

Drake stood ten paces away, leaning heavily against a steel barrier. His golden breastplate was scorched black, his hair was matted with sweat, and his snapped rapier hung uselessly at his hip.

"Commander Drake," Kincaid spoke, his deep voice carrying clearly over the thrum of the broadcast drones. "Report on the situation inside the pocket dimension. What happened in there?"

Microphones on long boom poles pushed over the barricades, aiming straight at Drake’s mouth. Every news anchor in the nation held their breath for the official debrief.

Silas Drake looked at Kincaid. Then, he looked past the commander at the forty hunters resting on the tarmac... every single one of them alive, being bandaged and given water.

Drake looked down at his broken blade, exhaled a long breath, and stepped forward to face the cameras.

"It wasn’t just me, Grand Arbiter," Drake said, his voice ringing out loud and steady across the plaza. "And it wasn’t just Solar Crown."

The gathered reporters were quiet; several news anchors leaned in closer, waiting for his explanation.

"The entity inside that cocoon was an SSS-Rank monster that broke past Level 100," Drake continued. "Every hunter on that strike team fought with everything they had. Our defense tanks took brutal hits, our archers held the line under heavy gravity, and our assault team locked the beast down with harpoons."

He gestured toward the battered men resting on the tarmac, their dented armor and bloodied bandages visible to every lens. "It was a collective effort, and those men deserve every bit of respect the capital can give them."

"But let’s be completely honest about why we are standing here alive," Drake added, turning his body toward the supply crate where Evren sat. "When the monster trapped our minds in stasis, Chairman Evren Crawford broke us free and took the lead charge head-on."

"His team pierced the lower vents, he shattered the core with his own blade, and when the void collapsed, he bridged a sixty-foot chasm to get every last one of us to the gate," Drake said, looking straight into the cameras. "We fought hard, but Chairman Evren is the reason forty-one hunters made it back to their families."

The reporters gasped in stunned shock. Live comment feeds on television broadcasts began scrolling so fast the monitors blurred.

Silas Drake, known across District One for his pride, was honoring his men while giving ultimate credit where it truly belonged.

Drake stepped straight up to Evren’s crate. In front of the Grand Arbiter, the military high command, and millions of watching citizens, Drake placed his right fist firmly over his heart and bowed deeply from the waist.

"I owe you my life, Chairman Evren, and so does every guild represented on this tarmac," Drake said with genuine reverence. "As for Solar Crown, we owe you an eternal blood debt. From this day forward, my guild will never raise a blade against Apex... consider our blades your shield whenever you call."

Evren looked up at the bowed guild master. He didn’t mock him, nor did he puff his chest out for the cameras.

He simply stood up from the crate, meeting Drake’s gaze. "Every hunter on that field fought with honor, Drake. You led them home, now make sure they get patched up."

Drake swallowed hard, nodding with a tight throat before turning back to his guild medics.

Kincaid watched the exchange with a rare, genuine smile touching his weathered face. He stepped up to Evren, clapping a firm hand onto his uninjured right shoulder.

"Get some rest and take care of those cracked ribs, Chairman," Kincaid said in a low, respectful tone. "The Defense Board will convene for a full formal debrief tomorrow morning at headquarters, but today, you earned your peace."

"Understood, General," Evren replied with a faint nod.

Guild Master Walter walked up to Evren’s side, chuckling quietly into his beard as he whispered, "The whole capital is watching, Chairman. Apex just became legendary across all twelve sectors."

"Let’s get out of here before the press breaks the barricades," Evren muttered, adjusting his torn jacket.

Walter nodded, waving a hand toward a black armored SUV idling near the secure tarmac gate. "Right this way. I already cleared the convoy path."

Evren, Amber, and Zephyra slipped through the security cordon, stepping into the spacious leather interior of the armored transport. The doors slammed shut with a thud, cutting out the deafening roar of the reporters and camera drones.

The driver accelerated smoothly, steering the vehicle out of the Citadel gates and onto the open highway as the radio broadcast crackled to life with an emergency bulletin:

[THE NATIONAL DEFENSE BOARD HAS OFFICIALLY DECLARED THE SKY RIFT ERADICATED!]

[THE LEVEL FOUR CITY LOCKDOWN IS LIFTED IMMEDIATELY ACROSS ALL DISTRICTS!]

Through the tinted windows, Evren watched District One burst into wild celebration.

Shop doors swung open, colorful banners unfurled from high balconies, and thousands of citizens flooded into the sunlit streets, cheering and waving flags in relief.

Twenty minutes later, the SUV turned off the main avenue and descended into the private, gated underground garage of Meridian Tower. The massive blast shutters rolled shut behind them, sealing the tower.

Evren, Amber, and Zephyra stepped out of the vehicle and walked toward the private express elevator.

Evren swiped his biometric key against the reader, and the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. They stepped inside, and the glass cab began its smooth, rapid ascent toward the eightieth floor.

Amber looked at her dusty boots, then reached out and gently rested her fingers against Evren’s arm. "Calista has been waiting all day. She must have been terrified."

"She’s safe," Evren said, a faint, warm smile finally breaking across his exhausted face. "And we’re home."