“Be quiet,” Palan said as he lowered his body, resting his stomach on top of the boulder, so he wouldn’t be seen from the entrance to the rebel army’s encampment.

The footsteps grew louder, and the red harpy in Palan’s grasp chewed her lower lip. She was debating whether or not to warn whoever was coming up the entrance, but decided against it. If Palan was able to capture her, she didn’t think anyone else had much of a chance of escaping. A light slap from Pyre’s blindfold smacked her in the cheek, and she glared at the snickering angel while dispelling all thoughts of zapping Palan with lightning. Pyre wouldn’t let her do that. Her body trembled as she thought of the ‘care’ she received from Pyre while evolving to an archling. Logically, she should be stronger than him and have no fear, but terror of Pyre had been ingrained down to her bones.

The harpy shook her head and waited. The footsteps sounded like it came from two people or one centaur. Her flock had definitely reported her capture, and they knew Palan was following them. Maybe the blockhead was coming to assess the situation? From the mineshaft, a red centaur with four arms appeared. His gaze landed on the boulder Palan was using as cover. The centaur snorted and the boulder rumbled.

Palan’s eyes widened as he leapt into the air. Moments later, brown, crystalline spears shot out of the boulder where he had been hiding. The red harpy blinked. She really hadn’t expected the blockhead to appear. Pyre’s brow furrowed. “That’s the centaur of diligence,” he said to Palan. “He’s an archling.”

“Is he also your pet?” Palan asked.

Evidently, the centaur’s hearing was excellent because he narrowed his eyes at Palan and let out a low roar. The earth churned as hundreds of earthen spears were launched out of the ground. Palan snorted and created a black halo of light in the sky below him. The instant the spears entered the halo, they lost all momentum before plummeting towards the ground.

“I’ve been thinking,” Pyre said as he slapped the harpy again. He noticed her staring at Palan with a strange look in her eyes. “Can you only increase and decrease gravity? Why don’t you try making the spears fall towards him?”

Palan raised an eyebrow. “You think that’s possible?” he asked. The halo distorted as Palan experimented, but the spears continued falling where they wanted to. He had no control over them.

“It’s just a thought,” Pyre said. “You’ll never find out what your ability can do unless you try new things. If you don’t believe, then obviously it’s not going to happen.”

Palan furrowed his brow and nodded. But now wasn’t the time to experiment. There was a group of people heading up the mineshaft towards the centaur. What if they were archlings as well?

“Blockhead!” the red harpy shouted. “Stop! Are you trying to kill me too!?”

The centaur frowned as his spears stopped. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t notice her after she shouted like that. If Solra knew he tried to kill a fellow archling, then things wouldn’t end well for him or his tribe. But it really did annoy him when she called him a blockhead. “So it’s the chicken,” the centaur shouted back. “Your new look suits you well!”

The harpy glared at him. Her hair was disheveled, her wing was broken, and she was trapped by a snake. Her eyes flashed with lightning, but her head turned to the side as a piece of cloth hit her nose and dispersed her mana. The centaur laughed. “I greet the insane benefactor,” he said, clasping his four hands together and nodding at Pyre. He thought Pyre was an ordinary angel before, but realized it was him after that smack.

“Go and have someone tell Solra I’m here and wish for a discussion,” Pyre said.

“I hear and obey,” the centaur said. The group that was climbing up the mineshaft arrived, and Palan was surprised to see a group of pale-white, humanoid creatures. The centaur turned his head to look at them. “There’s no danger here. Tell Solra the insane benefactor captured the red chicken and wishes for a discussion.”

The creatures stared at each other before looking up at Palan. They chattered for a moment before nodding. Their footsteps hurried back down the mineshaft. “What were those?” Palan asked Pyre. “And why did they seem frightened of you?” Just what kind of role did Pyre play in the rebel army? Everyone they met had recognized him.

“Those were dwarves,” Pyre said as he sighed. “They were good workers. They worked overtime without pay because of their dedication to their craft.” The red harpy rolled her eyes. She had heard the rumors about the dwarves and their work. Their sleepless weeks had nothing to do with dedication, but everything to do with the madman behind them. One dwarf had gone insane after staying up for eighteen days, but Pyre didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it was like he found a friend and kept the dwarf as an assistant.

“Ask him if he’s seen Raea,” Palan said to Pyre.

Pyre nodded. He shouted down towards the centaur. “Have you seen a fallen angel with four wings? She looks like a demon, has black scales, and probably used black fire.”

The centaur knit his brow as Palan descended from the sky and landed on a boulder. “The only black fire I’ve seen was the commander’s assistant,” he said. “But he died at Marossa.”

“Ishim’s dead?” Pyre asked and raised an eyebrow. He didn’t think Solra would sacrifice him so early. Pyre shrugged. “Well, I never liked him anyway. So you haven’t seen the angel I was talking about then.”

The centaur shook his head. “Why?” he asked. “Do you need help? My tribe will always be here to assist you in all matters.”

“She’s a friend,” Pyre said. The centaur’s face contorted for an instant before returning back to normal. From his previous experience, the centaur knew that none of the people Pyre had considered friends were sane.

The centaur wet his lips with his tongue. “Is he”—he gestured towards Palan—“a friend as well?” the centaur asked. It seemed like Pyre was captured by the demon, but at the same time, he wasn’t.

Pyre blinked and looked at Palan. “Are we friends?”

Palan didn’t reply, and Pyre shrugged before turning back towards the centaur. He said, “He’s my boss.”

“I thought the commander was your boss?” the centaur asked and scratched his head.

The red harpy sneered. “Stop thinking,” she said. “It doesn’t suit you.”

The centaur snorted and glared at her. Right when it seemed like he was about to take action, Solra appeared at the entrance of the mine accompanied by a group of dwarves.

“What is going on here?” Solra asked with a frown.