"What's going on?" one of the men asked, his voice trembling with raw fear as he wore a frightened look on his weathered face, his eyes darting wildly in the oppressive gloom, surrounded by an impenetrable wall of darkness and swirling shadows that seemed to pulse with a life of their own, closing in like the jaws of some ancient, malevolent beast.

The instigator with the prominent scar stared intently at Flameborn, a deeply displeased look etching deeper lines into his already twisted and scarred features, his bald head glistening with a sheen of nervous sweat under the faint, ethereal light that pierced through the dome.

"Do not let his actions get in your head," he barked gruffly, trying to rally his shaken accomplices with a forced bravado that barely masked his own growing unease.

"It's merely a trick to scare us.

There's no way a kid as small as him can take us down," he assured them further, his words laced with a strong conviction that he clung to desperately, strongly believing his own reassurances to avoid the creeping wavering doubt that threatened to unravel his composure amid the suffocating blackness.

With assurance from one of them, the cowering men gradually regained their composure, the initial panic fading from their rough, hardened faces as false confidence slowly seeped back in, bolstering their stances like a fragile shield against the unknown terror encircling them.

"Close your eyes, Adalia.

You might not want to see this," Flameborn advised softly, his young voice carrying a gentle concern as he glanced at her, the shadows around them shifting subtly like living entities responding to his will.

"No.

I want to see the bad men fall!" Adalia refused staunchly, her small voice firm despite the fear lingering in her wide, ruby eyes that remained resolutely open, fixed on the unfolding scene with a mix of trepidation and defiant curiosity.

"Alright.

Enjoy the show," Flameborn said simply, as flames cradled with inky darkness began to manifest around him, swirling in hypnotic patterns that illuminated his sturdy young form with an otherworldly glow, the fire's edges flickering with tendrils of shadow that whispered promises of destruction.

"Ready yourself, boys, let's teach this damn child a lesson," the scarred man said gruffly, unsheathing his sword with a metallic rasp that echoed ominously within the confined dome.

His sword was coated with elemental flames that danced hungrily along the blade's edge, casting erratic orange hues across his scarred visage as he gripped it firmly in his calloused hands, the heat radiating faintly in the cool, shadowed air.

His other friends did the same, their swords drawn in unison with similar rasps, each blade coated with their own elementals—some wreathed in crackling lightning that snapped and popped, others enveloped in swirling winds that howled faintly, or encased in jagged earth that gleamed like sharpened stone—holding them at the ready with tensed muscles.

"Alright, kid.

Playtime's over.

I will advise you to stop with your ability and surrender quietly.

There is little you can do against so many people," the scarred man advised, his voice dripping with condescension as he tried to discourage Flameborn if he could, his eyes narrowing in calculation.

That, after all, would be more profitable for his side than risking the loss of some of them to Flameborn's mysterious attack, the potential casualties weighing heavily on his pragmatic mind.

The demand from his friends would be higher should anyone die, the compensation and grudges escalating in their tight-knit circle of depravity.

But what the scarred man failed to understand was the overlord estimation of their chances of survival, his arrogance blinding him to the true disparity in power that loomed like an inevitable storm.

"This will be quick, then we resume from where we left off in our fun," Flameborn assured Adalia calmly, his tone reassuring as he prepared to unleash his draconic might.

"Incinerate," he said coldly, his young eyes fixed unblinkingly on the scarred man, the word carrying the weight of an irrevocable judgment.

Like a hungry shark sensing its prey in blood-scented waters, the dark flames moved with untold, blinding speed, surging forward in ravenous waves that consumed the men one by one without even granting them the fleeting chance to retaliate or scream, their forms engulfed in an instant of searing shadow-fire.

The scarred man finally realized what fear truly was, a bone-deep, paralyzing terror when the dark flames hurtled toward him with merciless intent, his bravado shattering like fragile glass.

"Please.

Forgive me.

I didn't—" he tried to plead to Flameborn desperately, his voice breaking in abject panic.

He didn't even bother to defend himself after seeing how easily his friends had died; he knew with chilling certainty how hopeless it was to try and defend against such overwhelming, unnatural force, his sword dropping from numb fingers.

Flameborn, on the other hand, turned deaf ears to his frantic plea, staring at him still with unyielding resolve until he was fully consumed by the dark flames, burning without stop in a vortex of shadow and fire until there was nothing left of him but faint ashes scattering in the dome's confines.

With everyone dead, their charred remnants smoldering faintly on the ground, Flameborn lowered the shadow wall gradually, the barrier dissolving like mist under morning sun, the scenery they were in returning to its original form before Flameborn had invoked the veil, the bustling street sounds filtering back in as if nothing had transpired.

"Let's go.

We have more places to visit," Flameborn said to Adalia nonchalantly, as they both continued their sightseeing like they had never encountered someone trying to harass them just a few minutes ago, the incident already fading into the background of their adventure.

---

After being left alone by Aaron in the shadowy outskirts of Truy's bustling capital, Sean stood still like someone utterly adrift and unable to determine where he needed to go next, his aged frame rigid amid the flowing tides of pedestrians, just pacing back and forth for about an hour in a small, inconspicuous circle, sitting down in brief intervals on weathered curbs or low walls to blend into the urban landscape and not draw undue attention to his aimless loitering.

After the hour mark passed, as if suddenly possessed by some enigmatic force or struck by a hidden purpose that had been simmering beneath his conscious thoughts, Sean rose to his feet with renewed determination and started walking like someone who had a precise destination firmly imprinted in his mind, his steps cautious yet directed.

He moved sneakily and silently through the crowded thoroughfares, weaving between groups of chattering locals and vendors hawking their wares, ensuring he wasn't being followed by anyone with frequent, subtle glances over his shoulder that scanned the faces in the throng.

From time to time, Sean observed his environment periodically, pausing at street corners or pretending to examine goods at stalls to ensure he wasn't being tailed by shadowy figures or curious onlookers.

With deliberate, unhurried steps that helped him melt into the pedestrian flow, he walked into a narrow alley with few people lingering within its dim, graffiti-strewn confines, the walls closing in like silent sentinels guarding forgotten secrets.

He navigated the alley, which was a bit confusing and maze-like with its twisting paths, sudden dead ends, and deceptive turns designed to confound intruders, with surprising ease until he reached the far end where a nondescript door could be found, its surface scarred by time and weather, blending seamlessly into the brickwork.

Sean knocked on the door four times in a successive, rhythmic pattern that echoed softly against the confined walls, a coded sequence known only to initiates.

He waited patiently afterward, his breath steady as he scanned the alley once more for any signs of surveillance or unexpected company.

Creak!

The door slid open with a low, protesting groan, revealing a young man with a mask concealing his face, his eyes peering out suspiciously from behind the dark fabric that obscured his identity.

"Sean.

What brings you here.

Alone," he asked Sean curtly, his muffled voice sharp and probing.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.