The armored van was speeding along, flanked by an impressive escort. Around the vehicle, hunters mounted on black motorcycles equipped with sophisticated tactical devices maintained a tight formation. Overhead, the dull roar of combat helicopters saturated the night air, their searchlights piercing the darkness, illuminating the deserted city streets. The entire convoy seemed ready to counter a massive attack, each soldier heavily armed, fingers tensed on triggers.
Inside the van, the atmosphere was heavy, oppressive. Isaac, his hands still bound behind his back with special handcuffs that completely sealed his mana, stared at Inspector Marc Lemaire seated across from him. The harsh, blinding ceiling light carved the inspector's facial features, accentuating his hard and ruthless expression.
Marc never took his eyes off Isaac, his fingers lightly drumming on the thick file resting on his knees.
