Visarion

Deep within the Clan of Ra's fortress, voices bounced off the grand stone walls, filled with tension and desperation. The fortress, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, seemed to tremble under the weight of the clan's growing unease. A search was underway, frantic and thorough, for the one person who should have been easy to find, the heir to the clan's leadership, who had disappeared without a trace. This heir, flamboyant and brash, was the future of the Clan of Ra, and his absence had thrown the entire order into chaos.

In the heart of the fortress, atop a grand throne of marble and gold, sat Greyoll, the current head of the Clan of Ra and the frightening leader of the Order of the Sun. His piercing eyes swept across his advisors, who knelt before him, trembling with fear. Power radiated from Greyoll, an aura of authority so intense that it seemed to crush the air around him.

One of the advisors, drenched in sweat, finally broke the silence. "Sir! We are trying our hardest, but we just can't find him!" His voice was shaky, laced with desperation. Every word seemed to betray his fear of the man before him.

Greyoll sighed heavily, his hand propped against his face in a gesture of boredom and frustration. "You can't find one useless boy? How useless can you be?" His voice dripped with disdain. His sharp, golden eyes narrowed, and the room seemed to darken under the weight of his anger. Power crackled in the air, an oppressive force leaking from him as his patience wore thin.

"In the name of our great lord Bellamy, I demand you find that boy. Do you understand?" His voice grew harder, carrying the weight of an unspoken threat.

The men knelt lower, nodding vigorously before scrambling to their feet and rushing out of the room, anxiety pouring off them in waves. Greyoll remained still on his throne, the silence that followed only amplifying his growing irritation. He exhaled slowly, muttering to himself. "Just where did that brat go?"

Meanwhile, miles away on a lone road winding toward Arystel, the roar of an engine echoed through the empty wilderness. A motorcycle came to a screeching halt, the tires kicking up dust as it slid smoothly to a stop. The rider, a tall figure about 6'1", dismounted with an air of confidence. His sharp features were illuminated by the fading light of dusk, and on the upper left corner of his forehead, an 8-pointed star gleamed faintly in the dimming light.

"Show thyself, foul creature," the man called out, his voice calm yet commanding, as if already bored by what he knew was lurking nearby. At first glance, he appeared to be talking to thin air, but his sharp eyes were fixed on the shadows just beyond the road. "I won't break a sweat with the likes of you, troll."

As the last word left his lips, the air around him seemed to shift. A grotesque creature, which had been perfectly camouflaged against the surrounding trees, began to emerge from its hiding place. The troll, towering and monstrous, revealed its hideous form. Its skin was a mottled grey, wrinkled and sagging, and its long, gangly arms hung down past its knees. Its black, soulless eyes gleamed with malice, and its decayed, yellow teeth jutted out from its gaping mouth as it let out a deafening roar. The very trees around them trembled from the force of its voice.

The man didn't flinch. He turned his back on the creature for a moment, raising his hand toward his motorcycle. In a flash, flames engulfed the bike, and it vanished into thin air. "Wouldn't want it to get destroyed. That wouldn't be so fun," he mused, his tone dripping with casual arrogance.

He turned back to face the troll, his demeanor now serious. His fist clenched, Essentia crackling around him in a faint aura. The troll, sensing its prey's confidence, let out another enraged roar and charged forward. Its massive fist, thick and gnarled, came crashing down toward the boy.

Thud.

The impact rang out as the troll's fist connected, not with the boy's body, but with his outstretched arm, which had risen calmly to block the attack. The man didn't even budge, his expression unchanging. "Disgusting," he muttered, glancing at the filth left on his clothes. "It got on my clothes."

Without hesitation, he leaped backward, soaring through the air with grace. Clapping his hands together, he began to chant. "Art of the Toad…" His right hand moved in front of his mouth, forming a circle. "Bath of Boiling Oil!" He inhaled deeply and then exhaled a stream of thick, scalding oil that drenched the troll's body. The creature stumbled back, confused, as it tried to wipe the viscous liquid from its skin, only succeeding in spreading it further across its grotesque form.

A moment later, the troll erupted into flames, its body igniting in a fiery blaze. It let out a guttural scream, flailing wildly as it was consumed by fire. The man watched impassively as the creature writhed in agony for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the troll collapsed to the ground, its body nothing more than a charred husk.

"Such an awful creature," the man said quietly as he landed smoothly on the ground. With a wave of his hand, the motorcycle reappeared beside him, untouched by the flames. He mounted the bike, revving the engine before speeding off toward Arystel.

Back on the road leading out of the Weeping Forest, Erenyx continued her trek toward the city. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and she muttered curses under her breath, clearly irritated by the relentless heat. The poorly paved road stretched on before her, and the weight of her twin axes made every step feel heavier. Just as she was about to stop and rest, two masked figures dashed out from the bushes, blocking her path.

They moved with surprising speed, their dark cloaks fluttering behind them as they stood in front of her, brandishing swords. "Give us all you have, and you won't get hurt," one of the thugs demanded, his voice a low, raspy growl.

The other thug glanced at his partner, a hint of disbelief in his tone. "Do you not see those big-ass axes on her back?" he hissed, as though realizing the grave mistake they had just made.

But it was already too late. Erenyx's eyes flashed with excitement, and before the second thug could even finish his sentence, she charged forward, her speed terrifying. One of her axes was already in her hand, the blade gleaming as she prepared to strike. The thugs barely had time to react.