Chapter 1622: Chaos in Harland

As midday approached, the capital city of Herriond was bustling with activity. People hurried along the crowded sidewalks, immersed in their daily routines, while rows of cars crept through the congested streets, their engines humming to the city’s incessant chorus.

The waiters from small streetside shops busily called out to passing customers from outside their doors, each voice louder than the next in a constant competition for attention. The aroma of sizzling food wafted from street stalls, fast food restaurants, and cozy cafes, wafting along the streets along with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, everything mixed with the sharp smell of exhaust fumes and the faint trace of construction dust carried on the warm midday breeze, creating the familiar scent of a city forever in motion.

Pedestrians streamed through intersections and crowded walkways like restless currents, weaving around one another with practiced ease. The city pulsed with relentless energy.

Giant digital billboards flashed advertisements high above the streets, their brilliant displays casting shifting colors across the urban landscape. Horns echoed in the distance, blending with the hum of traffic and the steady rhythm of countless footsteps.

Fragments of conversation drifted through the air, appearing for a moment before dissolving into the city’s endless sea of noise. It was the kind of place where thousands of lives crossed paths every hour, yet no one lingered long enough to notice a stranger.

Amidst the endless stream of people and vehicles, everyone was absorbed by the rhythm of the capital, and everyone melted into one. Yet, among the crowd, a lone man walked with the unsteady gait of a drunk, swaying from side to side as if each step were a negotiation with gravity itself.

The man’s shoulders drooped weakly. Once, he nearly collided with a fruit vendor’s cart before swerving at the last moment. A few pedestrians passed him in annoyance, but no one paid him more than a glance.

A drunken fool in Herriond was not a weird sight. The crowd parted and surrounded him like water around a piece of driftwood. Life went on uninterrupted.

The man continued moving toward the main intersection with the crowd. He drifted toward the center of the intersection, then suddenly stopped. His head was down, and his arms hung limply at his sides. To anyone watching, he was just another drunkard who got lost in a haze of alcohol and bad decisions.

The traffic lights finally shifted from red to green, and the intersection sprang to life. Engines rumbled awake. Tires rolled forward. The sharp blare of horns cut through the air as impatient drivers urged the flow of traffic onward.

Yet the man remained there, standing perfectly still in the middle of the road. A chorus of horns instantly erupted.

"H-hey! Move away!"

"What are you doing out there?!"

"Get out of the road, you idiot!"

Several drivers leaned out of their windows, shouting curses and insults. Horns blared in protest, their sharp notes cutting through the noise of the city.

Along the sidewalks, pedestrians slowed their pace, drawn by the growing commotion. Some stopped to watch, while others chuckled in amusement, assuming it was merely an exceptionally drunken fool making a nuisance of himself.

"He’s completely wasted."

"Can someone drag him out of there?"

A few people laughed and mocked, they shook their heads while continuing to watch, waiting for the man to make a fool of themselves. ℴ𝒗ⅇ𝑙.

However, no one noticed the veins on the man’s face and neck bulging beneath his skin like twisted roots forcing their way to the surface. His body trembled violently, seized by an unseen rage. His shoulders jerked and twitched as though invisible strings were pulling at him from all directions.

A strange pressure settled over the intersection. The laughter gradually faded. The shouting dwindled and then ceased altogether. Slowly, people fell silent; somehow, they could feel that something was wrong.

An uneasy silence spread through the crowd as hundreds of eyes turned toward the trembling man standing alone at the center of the crossroads.

A second later—

The man threw back his head and let out a feral roar. In the next instant, a surge of wild energy erupted from his body, expanding outward in a violent shockwave. The asphalt beneath his feet shattered instantly.

Cracks raced across the road like branching lightning, splitting the black surface apart in every direction. Chunks of pavement heaved upward as the ground buckled under the immense force. For a brief moment, the intersection seemed to hold its breath.

Then it exploded.

BOOM!

Chunks of asphalt and concrete were hurled skyward. The nearest vehicles were lifted from the ground as if they weighed nothing. Metal screamed as cars were tossed through the air, spinning end over end before crashing into storefronts and streetlights.

Windows shattered, and glass rained onto the streets. The shockwave swept through the intersection like a hurricane. People were thrown from their feet, while others stumbled backward in terror. For a brief moment, the bustling crossroads of Herriond was transformed into chaos.

Screams filled the air.

"RUN— Everyone RUN!"

"What the hell was that?!"

"He’s a gifted people!"

"I think he was crazy!"

"Someone, call the authority, someone call the King’s Men!"

Panic spread through the crowd like wildfire. Men and women fled in every direction, abandoning bags, carts, and belongings in their desperate attempt to escape. Smoke and dust billowed upward, swallowing the intersection in a choking gray cloud.

At the center of the chaos stood the man, screaming in blind fury. His energy raged out of control, surging from his body in violent waves. The rocks beneath the shattered asphalt protruded one by one, rising from the earth before shooting upward like giant boulders hurled by an invisible hand. Buildings trembled, windows shattered, and chaos consumed the crossroads.

But before the destruction could spread any further, a transparent barrier suddenly materialized around the area. The massive rocks slammed into the invisible wall and came to an abrupt halt. Ripples of light spread across the barrier’s surface, absorbing the force of the impact.

A figure stepped through the shimmering barrier.

He was a muscular man with short gray hair and a massive blade strapped across his back.

Though his expression was tense, there was unmistakable excitement lurking beneath it, a fierce anticipation sharpened by a murderous intent that sent chills down the spine of anyone who met his gaze.

The man was Leon, one of King Lucas’s most powerful generals and the commander of the Spearhead Unit, an elite rapid-response force tasked with confronting sudden attacks, terrorist incidents, and other large-scale threats throughout Harland.

Whenever disaster struck without warning, the Spearhead Unit was among the first to arrive, and Leon was always at its tip.

Normally, Leon served as a supervisor, preferring to coordinate operations from behind the scenes rather than engage in combat personally. However, Lory’s miraculous return, Bael’s relentless assaults, and the growing tension looming over the kingdom had compelled him to step back onto the battlefield once more.

The threats facing Harland were escalating at an alarming rate, and the luxury of remaining behind a command desk had long since disappeared. If powerful enemies were beginning to move openly, then Leon intended to meet them head-on.

After all, there was a reason he had earned his reputation as one of King Lucas’s strongest generals, after Fargo, of course. Despite the years spent directing others, the warrior within him had never truly disappeared.

Moreover, after learning that Fargo, Clift, and Jay were currently absent from Harland, along with Zhao Li Xin, Leon felt the burden of protecting both the royal family and the capital settle squarely upon his shoulders. With so many of the kingdom’s strongest defenders away, he could not afford to leave anything to chance.

After all, Leon was not a man willing to take unnecessary risks. If danger threatened Harland, he preferred to confront it himself rather than trust that others could handle it in his stead.

"It’s been a while since some assh*le dared to make a mess this big in the King’s City." His eyes glinted dangerously as he stared at the raging figure. "Are you that assh*le?"

The man slowly turned his head toward Leon. His eyes were vacant, just like those of a lifeless doll. Leon narrowed his eyes. Obviously, there was something very wrong with this man.

At that same moment, the King’s Men arrived. Dozens of heavily armed soldiers poured into the area, moving with disciplined precision as they swiftly surrounded the man. Their formation tightened around the devastated crossroads, cutting off every possible route of escape.

Weapons were raised and aimed directly at the delirious figure. Fingers rested on triggers, muscles tensed, and every soldier stood ready to strike at a moment’s notice. Despite their training, however, none could completely hide the tension in their eyes after witnessing the destruction the man had unleashed.

The ruined intersection fell into a fragile silence as steel and gun barrels were leveled at the lone figure standing amid the wreckage.

Leon suddenly raised a hand. "Lead the civilians to a safe location and establish a security perimeter extending one hundred meters from this point." His gaze never left the man. "Leave this asshole to me."The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk.

The King’s Men immediately moved to carry out the order, escorting civilians away while securing the surrounding area.

Leon remained amid the dust and ruins, one hand resting on the hilt of the massive blade strapped across his back. The moment he drew his sword, the air itself seemed to tremble.

Invisible waves spread from his body, stirring dust and rattling loose debris across the shattered ground. His smirk widened as the giant blade slowly emerged from its sheath.

_______________________________________

___At Cestine Palace__

"Did you guys feel that?" Lory suddenly lifted her head, her expression turning serious.

Lucas frowned. "Yeah..."

Fredhardt had already pulled out his phone and placed a call. "Did something happen?"

Lory and Lucas turned their attention to him. Meanwhile, Fredhardt appeared to be engaged in a serious conversation. As he listened, his expression gradually tightened.

"Uh-huh... Where is it?" He paused, listening intently. "Leon went there?... Okay."

As the report came in, Fredhardt quickly assessed the situation. His expression hardened, and his voice turned sharp and authoritative.

"I want eyes on the entire area. Feed me real-time updates on everything happening there. Get me a casualty assessment immediately, civilian and military. Dispatch medical response teams now and coordinate with local security forces to secure the perimeter."

He paused briefly before continuing. "Establish evacuation routes, keep civilians away from the hot zone, and report any changes the moment they happen. I don’t want delays."

After issuing a series of rapid orders, Fredhardt ended the call and turned toward Lucas and Lory.

"There’s been an attack at East Square," Fredhardt said grimly. "The Spearhead Unit and Leon are handling it."

"What kind of attack?" Lucas asked, his brow furrowing.

"Terrorism," Fredhardt replied.

The atmosphere inside the Glass House immediately grew heavy.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Fredhardt took a deep breath before continuing. "As far as we know, it’s a single Gifted people."

"Just one?" Lory frowned.

The idea seemed unbelievable. A single person causing such devastation? Something about it felt wrong.

"We need a full picture of the situation," Lucas said immediately.

"Do we have eyes on the area? I want to monitor it myself."

"Already arranged," Fredhardt replied. "The command room is receiving a live feed from the scene."

"Then let’s go," Lucas said.

"I’m coming too!" Lory’s declaration was immediate.

Lucas turned sharply toward her. "Lory, the doctors specifically said you shouldn’t be under stress."

Lory responded with an annoyed smile. "Well, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?" She folded her arms stubbornly. "I’m going."

She gives them challenge look.

"What? You think you can stop me?"

Lucas and Fredhardt exchanged a glance. A silent conversation passed between them in an instant.

Then both men sighed heavily.

"No..." Lucas admitted to defeat.

Lory gave a smug expression. "That’s what I thought."

"But..." Fredhardt cut in, pointing toward the wheelchair beside her, "You still need to use the wheelchair."

Lory narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Seriously? At a time like this? I thought we needed to hurry."

"Exactly," Fredhardt said with a grin. "I’m going to roll you there at top speed."

Lory stared at him for a moment, then rolled her eyes. "Fine."

With all the enthusiasm of a prisoner accepting her sentence, she plopped down into the wheelchair. Once settled, she pointed forward with her index finger like a conquering monarch.

"Roll me away, Fred!"

Fredhardt gets behind Lory’s wheelchair and answer obidiently. "Aye, my lady."

Lucas watched the pair for a moment before rubbing his forehead.

For all the tension hanging over the kingdom, these two still found time to joke around. Then again, some things never changed.