Half an hour later, a group of men arrived at the scene, each exuding a fierce, battle-hardened demeanor. It was clear they were experienced combat veterans.

"Captain Hill, punish me as you see fit," the first man said with his head bowed low. "I failed to protect Ms. Hill."

The man who commanded such respect appeared to be in his 40s, with a square jaw and a cross-shaped scar on his forehead. His cold gaze alone was enough to send a shiver down anyone's spine.

Alistair replied, "It's not your fault. Yara has been suicidal for a while now. She must have used her inner energy for that burst of movement, despite her condition. You couldn't have kept up. Did her trace disappear here?"

The man nodded. "Yes, she could be nearby or much further away."

Thanks to his unique practice, he could track a person's scent as long as they did not leave a certain radius.

Alistair bit his finger until it bled and began murmuring something. His men's faces paled at this action, and one spoke up