Chapter 44: Military
{Mass release 3/4}
After leaving the Crater, Drake had been separated from the other survivors. Strangely enough, he was taken into a large van where many soldiers stood guard as though he were some kind of serial killer.
Turning to Harvix, he gave the man a spectacle of a look—even if Harvix couldn’t see through the mask.
Harvix, seeing this, shook his head, crestfallen. "I’m sorry, but this is a protocol that must be taken. The reason will be made known when the time comes."
It was especially strange for Drake. After escaping from a place like the crater, he had expected some form of special treatment. Instead, all he received was a bit of healing from a soldier and now, heavy security to move him somewhere he had no idea of.
And with the number of guards surrounding him, there was really no room for refusal.
"What did I even do in my absence? For all I know, I was in the crater surviving—and this... this is how you treat me?" He muttered beneath his breath. A time like this, Drake wished he could rip off his mask and let them see who he truly was—a Drakon. The military would instantly unhand him, fearful of igniting a war between them and his family’s faction.
Still, he had chosen to hide his identity. Using his family name now would only waste all his efforts to remain low-profile. At least, it would serve as a last resort.
With that, Drake nodded and stepped into the van, taking a seat on the cold metal floor in the middle, glaring at Harvix who stood by the door with an empty demeanor.
"I’m sorry," Harvix muttered again, and with that, the doors were shut. The van immediately took off—to who knew where.
Hours later, the van came to a halt, and Drake was ushered out by two soldiers, led down into a wide hall he didn’t recognize. They went through several corridors until finally reaching one lined with makeshift rooms—each with a single bed and a toilet.
Despite the absence of bars, Drake instantly recognized it—a containment cell.
He turned to one of the soldiers and sighed. "I’m a criminal now? How convenient."
The soldiers said nothing. One opened the door, and the other shoved Drake inside roughly before slamming it shut. Without another glance, they walked away.
Drake sighed again, this time in anger. All he wanted was a warm meal, clean clothes, and a soft bed to collapse into—and this was how the military treated him after surviving the crater?
"This is starting to get on my nerves," he muttered, walking up to the door and trying to open it. Just as he suspected, it was locked. There was no point trying further.
A containment cell like this was designed to suppress all talents within its perimeter. It was effective—but not against stronger beings, the kind that held the rank of a Lord. For that, a much larger containment field was needed.
Drake Drakon moved toward the bed and sat at its edge, pondering what he could have possibly done to deserve being locked up right after surviving the Crater Hunt.
One after another, ridiculous ideas began forming in his mind. ’Maybe it was that old geezer. His forgery failed and they found out I had a fake ID? Or maybe they really think I’m a monster...’
After entertaining a few foolish theories, he dismissed them all, knowing his mind was merely toying with him.
Then, he reclined, falling backward onto the rock-hard bed—its surface deliberately uncomfortable to deprive criminals of rest.
But this didn’t bother Drake. He found it far more comfortable than the rough floors of the crater. ’I wonder...’
"How’s Tessa doing?" he muttered. For some reason, that was what occupied his thoughts now. She had been injured during the dungeon hunt, but since he’d left her in Luna’s care, he was sure she would’ve made it out before the rocks came crashing down.
Drake yawned, feeling sleep tugging at him. Still, he didn’t dare close his eyes—not with the possibility of being killed in his sleep.
So he stayed awake for hours, until the sound of the door opening reached his ears, followed by a voice he knew all too well.
"How dare you cage him up!"
The shout came from the hoarse voice of Headmaster Stoick, who stormed in and slapped one of the guards across the face before stepping toward Drake—who still lay on the bed.
"D—are you alright?" Stoick asked, his face filled with worry.
Drake simply shrugged and smiled, sitting upright and stretching before standing. "Yeah, I like the hotel you booked—quite refreshing."
Headmaster Stoick’s lips curled faintly at Drake’s humor, clearly relieved that he’d survived the horrors of the crater.
"We’ll speak about what’s going on later," Stoick said, then turned to the guards by the door. Their heads bowed low in a mix of fear and respect.
"If the military dares touch this boy again, I’ll make sure you all regret it." His words carried a heavy weight, and even the soldiers knew it.
Headmaster Stoick was part of the military—and for him to make such a threat meant he had leverage powerful enough to terrify even them.
Drake thought, ’Just who is Stoick, really?’
After that, Stoick turned back to Drake, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Let’s go."
With that, the two of them vanished from the cell in an instant, leaving the military base in an eerie, indefinite silence.
---
In what felt like the blink of an eye, Drake and Headmaster Stoick reappeared inside a vehicle—a car, to be precise—speeding through some unknown route.
The interior of the car was a world of quiet opulence. Smooth black leather gleamed beneath the subtle glow of ambient lights, its scent rich and intoxicating. Chrome trimmings curved along the dashboard like veins of silver, while the low hum of the engine whispered sophistication. The air inside was cool, perfumed faintly with sandalwood and new leather—the kind of scent that spoke of power, wealth, and restraint.
Even the silence inside felt deliberate—like luxury itself demanded reverence.
Yes, this was truly Stoick’s taste.
Drake leaned back into the soft cushions and glanced at Stoick seated opposite him. Then, raising his hands to his face, he began prying off the mask. It wasn’t easy—first requiring a fingerprint scan, and even then, it clung stubbornly to his skin until he pulled it free with effort.
Once off, he drew in a long breath of fresh air through his nostrils and dropped the mask beside him with a sigh.
"I’ve got to commend you on how nice the mask is—you weren’t cheap," Drake teased, earning a forced smile from Headmaster Stoick.
The Headmaster rubbed his fingers along his trousers, cleared his throat, and spoke. "Days ago, Kresha went missing... and was later found dead on the streets."
Drake tilted his head slightly, frowning. ’Wish I was the one who put that bastard in the dirt.’
"The suspect for the murder is Luna Blade," Stoick continued. "And you..." His gaze lingered on Drake, studying his reaction.
Drake did nothing—only furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Since ’Unknown’ was seen with Luna during the hunt, you are both prime suspects," Stoick said gravely.
Drake raised his palm and slammed it into his face. "Oh, shit... what did Luna do in my absence?"
Headmaster Stoick folded his arms, giving Drake a sharp look. "You never cease to amaze me—with your ability to analyze situations, your strength, your talents. When I heard of your feats in the crater, I was baffled. But even with that, I urge you—never put on the mask again, nor associate yourself further with Luna."
"Kresha was the half-brother of Jared Starlight, a general in the military, and also the brother of Rumar Starlight. Your actions might just spark a civil war, Drake."