The air was heavy with tension, a quiet standoff between myself and the soldiers who clearly didn’t want me near the portal.

  I watched as the one who had accompanied me stepped away from his colleagues, his expression strained, like he had been assigned the unfortunate task of delivering bad news.

  He stopped a few feet from me, straightening his posture before speaking.

  "Listen, Mr. Quovar," he began, his voice carefully controlled. "We’re going to need a little time to report this situation and get authorization. It’s just standard protocol, nothing personal."

  I stared at him blankly, letting his words settle in the space between us.

  He was lying.

  All of them are.

  It wasn’t even a particularly good lie.

  The way he avoided direct eye contact, the slight shift in his stance, he knew I wasn’t buying it.

  Still, I let the silence stretch, forcing him to continue.

  "It won’t take long," he added quickly, mistaking my quiet indifference for patience. "Once command gives the go-ahead, we’ll clear you to approach the portal."

  I didn’t respond immediately.

  Instead, I shifted my gaze to the other two soldiers, who were doing a poor job of pretending they weren’t watching us.

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  Their body language said everything, they were stalling, hoping that if they dragged this out long enough, someone more qualified would show up to deal with the situation.

  I sighed internally.

  Typical.

  "Alright," I finally said, my tone flat.

  His shoulders relaxed slightly, as if he had expected more resistance.

  "Good. We just need you to wait here for now."

  I nodded once, but I didn’t move.

  I wasn’t about to argue with them, not because I believed their excuse, but because it wasn’t worth the effort.

  They didn’t want me handling this, that much was obvious.

  And I had no doubt that if I pressed too hard, they’d just find another reason to delay.

  So, I waited.

  But not because I trusted them.

  No, I waited because I wanted to see how far they’d take this lie.

  We didn't say anything again.

  The soldier stood there, waiting, expecting some kind of reaction, maybe frustration, maybe impatience, maybe even gratitude that they were "handling" the situation.

  But I gave him nothing.

  Just the same blank stare, my expression unreadable, my posture relaxed as if none of this concerned me in the slightest.

  Because it didn’t.

  I had done my part.

  I had shown up.

  I had proven my identity.

  I had made my intentions clear.

  If they wanted to waste time playing bureaucratic games instead of dealing with the portal, that was on them.

  Not me.

  If things went south, if that swirling abyss of energy spat out something nasty, something they weren’t equipped to handle, then that was their failure, not mine.

  The soldier shifted uncomfortably under my gaze.

  "We’ll let you know once we get a response," he said, his voice slightly stiffer than before.

  He was aware now that I wasn’t buying their excuse, and it unsettled him.

  Still, I said nothing.

  After a brief pause, he exhaled through his nose and turned away, walking back toward the other two soldiers.

  They exchanged a few words in hushed voices, likely discussing me, maybe questioning whether I was going to be a problem.

  I wasn’t.

  I wasn’t going to argue with them.

  I wasn’t going to plead for permission to do the job.

  I wasn’t going to explain myself further.

  If they let me in, fine.

  If they didn’t, also fine.

  Their choice.

  Their consequences.