Ricky slowly turned his compound eyes away from New Moon City.
Not a single whisper across the entire Emerald Green Forest territory escaped his perception. Every emotion—every shifting worry, every trembling breath taken in the quiet corners of the refugee camps—was known to him.
The rising tension, the fear of another undead assault, the desperate meetings—he had seen it all.
But unlike the mortals scrambling to prepare, Ricky's gaze remained calm. Focused.
Yes, he was concerned about the undead invasion.
But concern did not mean panic.
He had already planned for it.
"If one Stage 3 isn't enough… then I'll deploy ten."
That thought echoed in his mind like a blade sharpening against a whetstone.
His wings fluttered once in silence, and his gaze narrowed dangerously.
A razor-thin glint passed through his multifaceted eyes—a flash of lethal promise.
But that would come later.
For now, there was something more important—something far more personal.
