Trevor stayed routed to his seat.
He couldn't even start to believe what he was seeing.
The C-Ranked monster was a nightmare made flesh—a towering eight-foot brute with three milky, lidless eyes that seemed to track movement independently.
Its legs were twisted at unnatural angles, and large, leathery black wings tucked against its back, twitching with agitation.
Trevor was taken aback by the sight, his heart hammering against his ribs, until a firm tap on his shoulder snapped him back to reality.
"Here. Take this sword," the man in the passenger seat said, his voice as professional as if he were handing over a pen.
"In case it charges at the vehicle, you should have a way to at least defend yourself."
Trevor took the blade, his fingers curling around its head. He was shocked, but he knew better than to argue.
He watched in silence as the two men stepped out of the car. The moment the doors opened, a heavy, suffocating presence descended on the area.
