In a silent, hidden temple, an eighteen-year-old veiled girl lay helpless. Her body was torn by severe wounds. Fresh blood seeped out, soaking her veil—the price of her recklessness in controlling an artifact from dozens of kilometers away despite being gravely injured by poison.
The silence shattered as a hundred fully armored soldiers stormed inside. At the rear, a sorcerer held his staff ready, prepared to cast offensive or defensive spells in the blink of an eye.
"She is dying and unconscious. Quickly, take her to the Eldryss Empire!" commanded a middle-aged man leading the troop.
Two soldiers stepped forward to lift the frail body. However, before their hands could touch her, vines shot out from the darkness, ambushing everyone present. Sharp thorns pierced skin, injecting a lethal poison that acted within seconds. Screams didn't even have time to escape; their flesh dissolved, leaving white skeletons that rattled as they hit the floor. Only the veiled girl was left breathing.
"As usual, my poison is still the strongest," muttered a man emerging from the shadows with a conceited tone.
"But that crystal brat didn't die," a male voice echoed inside his head, cold and demanding.
The poison user wore a thin smirk. "It seems I underestimated her slightly. Members of their family do have a high resistance to toxins. But still, she nearly died from my dose earlier. If I hadn't stopped its spread, she would have been a corpse from the start."
"Don't forget, I was the one who wounded her until you had an opening to inject your poison magic," the voice in his head replied, reminding him.
"I know. Your contribution was indeed the greatest," the poison man countered, unwilling to argue further.
"Now, take her to the headquarters. We will use this woman as a hostage to threaten them."
The poison user grinned with satisfaction, hoisting the girl's body onto his shoulder as if she were mere loot. He began to run, darting through the temple shadows. However, his steps stopped instantly. Without a sound, without warning, his head detached from his neck—sent flying before his body collapsed heavily onto the ground.
A man with black hair and glowing red eyes stood there in the darkness, catching the girl's body as it nearly fell. He held her tightly, his face etched with deep anxiety.
"Elmyra, hurry! Vaelryn is dying!" he shouted, breaking the silence.
A woman with green hair and pitch-black eyes appeared. She wasted no time; her hands reached out, emitting a pulse of pure emerald energy. The green light flowed gently, enveloping Vaelryn's body, closing the gaping wounds and purging the remnants of the purple poison that had blackened her veins.
Elmyra let out a long breath, her face suddenly turning pale. "It's lucky I wasn't too late," she whispered hoarsely. "She just needs to rest now. But forcing a direct healing on wounds that severe truly drained my magic energy. Please, let no one else get hurt... because they are already here."
The red-eyed man looked up. His gaze flashed sharply as he realized the atmosphere around them had turned heavy and suffocating.
On the horizon, ten thousand high-level sorcerers had surrounded the temple. They stood silent, yet the magical pressure they released made the air vibrate violently. They had not come to negotiate; they had come to raze the place to the ground.
The sky above the temple suddenly turned a fiery red. A pillar of dark red flame struck the earth, creating a heat explosion that pushed back the cold air. Azeron landed with a heavy thud, while a massive dome of fire began to shroud the area, isolating them from the siege of the ten thousand sorcerers outside.
Lynera jumped down from Azeron's arms. Her face was deathly pale as she rushed to embrace her sister. "Sister Vaelryn! You're okay, right?" she sobbed, tears beginning to wet her cheeks.
"She's stable. She just needs a few hours to recover fully," Elmyra reassured her, though her eyes then turned to Lynera with concern. "But what about you? You were also exposed to that poison earlier."
"I'm fine," Lynera answered quietly. "Someone managed to pull the poison out of my body. Though my nerves were paralyzed for a few minutes, Brother Azeron has already healed me."
Kaerith, the black-haired man beside Elmyra, turned in disbelief. "Since when did you master healing magic, Azeron?"
Azeron snorted, his eyes remaining vigilant toward the wall of fire. "I didn't heal her. I only used my pure flame to burn away the toxic pollution clogging her nerves. It's a crude method, but effective."
"Azeron, Kaerith! Focus!" Elmyra warned, her voice rising. "Ten thousand powerful sorcerers are preparing to destroy this dome!"
"You don't need to bother fighting. They are all dead."
A calm yet intimidating baritone voice echoed through the air. Instantly, the sturdy dark red fire dome cracked, then shattered into pieces like glass. Amidst the fading embers, a man with black hair and eyes as deep blue as the ocean hovered calmly in the air.
The temperature at the site plummeted. Everyone's gaze hardened.
"You!" Azeron growled, his fists clenching until sparks of fire flew. "You're the one who wounded her so badly!"
"I did wound her," the man, Adverion, replied nonchalantly as if discussing the weather. "But she also gave me a severe wound in return."
Without warning, Kaerith lunged. His movement was lightning-fast, his body leaping into the air to deliver a decisive kick to Adverion's face. However, with minimal movement, Adverion evaded.
"Kaerith, you are too slow," Adverion whispered. A split second later, his foot slammed into Kaerith's stomach with brutal force, sending the man flying backward until he skidded across the ground. Adverion landed slowly, looking at them with a demeaning gaze. "It is true, in your organization, only she is my equal."
"Adverion." Another deep voice echoed from a distance, carrying a cold warning. "If you kill them now, you will only meet your own end within days."
Adverion sighed, his shoulders slumping relaxedly. "I have no intention of killing them. I just wanted to say hello and stretch a bit—it's been three months of recovery, after all."
He looked at them one by one, then waved his hand with a thin smirk. "Since your leader has given a warning, I'll be going. Don't hold a grudge just because I hurt your vice-leader. Besides, between the two of us, there is no grudge at all. See you later."
In the blink of an eye, Adverion's figure faded and vanished, leaving a chilling silence among the temple ruins, now surrounded by thousands of corpses of sorcerers who died without even getting the chance to fight back.