Elandrin's attire spoke of a carefree spirit. He favored clothing in dark, earthy shades that allowed him to blend seamlessly with the forest surroundings, a practical choice for one who often found himself slipping into or out of trouble. His garments bore the marks of wear and tear from his adventures, but he wore them with a nonchalant pride.

His movements exuded an air of confidence, and his quick wit and sharp tongue were readily apparent. Elandrin had a penchant for clever quips and sly grins, making him both an engaging source of amusement and a source of exasperation for those around him.

When not causing a ruckus or embarking on escapades, Elandrin could be found in his element, practicing his agility and marksmanship with a bow. His natural aptitude for archery was evident, a skill he had honed through countless training sessions hosted by his other mother.

"Sorry," The boy rolled his eyes once more before attempting to walk away. But this time, I was so angry that I grabbed him by his shoulder and firmly placed him in front of me. He cocked his shoulder back to try and relieve some of the tension, but I squeezed hard, making sure he had no chance of escaping.

"You know what, that's it. I'm taking you back home. For the rest of this school year, you will be training under your mother. And I will personally make sure you see the horrors of war so you know just what it's like to suffer a bit…" I grit my teeth while hovering my hand over my face. "God, we spoiled you way too much. You wouldn't choose the streets if you were really born in them."

…

(Lucious POV)

As the day gave way to twilight, the gritty streets of the outskirts took on a new, ominous atmosphere. The flickering torches and oil lamps that had illuminated the district during the day now cast long, wavering shadows that danced along the uneven cobblestones.

A sense of duality permeated the air, where the fantastical world outside the kingdom's walls revealed its darker side. The raucous sounds of the marketplace were replaced by the low murmurs of clandestine meetings and whispered deals in dimly lit alleyways. The district's inhabitants, once bustling and vibrant, now moved with a wariness that spoke of the dangers that lurked in the night.

In the inky darkness, the graffiti and symbols that adorned the buildings seemed to come alive, glowing with an eerie luminescence. Passersby averted their eyes from these arcane markings, knowing that some held powerful enchantments, while others were harbingers of doom.

Shadows seemed to stretch and elongate, forming sinister shapes that slinked along the walls. Cloaked figures moved stealthily through the narrow streets, their identities hidden beneath hooded robes and veils. The echoes of their footsteps reverberated through the alleys, serving as a constant reminder of the secrets and intrigues that unfolded in the obscurity.

The air was thick with the scent of smoky incense, masking the underlying odor of decay and despair. Fortune tellers and mystics set up shop at dimly lit corners, offering glimpses into the future or insights into the mysteries of the past. Their crystal balls and tarot cards shimmered with an otherworldly glow, promising knowledge at a price.

In the darkest corners of the outskirts, hidden beneath layers of secrecy and deception, taverns and speakeasies emerged. Their clientele consisted of adventurers, thieves, and those seeking solace in the embrace of darkness. These establishments thrived in the night, their patrons indulging in intoxicating brews and whispered conversations.

But amid the shadows and secrecy, there was a palpable tension in the air. The district's inhabitants were well aware that danger lurked around every corner. In this fantastical world outside the kingdom's walls, survival often depended on one's ability to navigate the treacherous labyrinth of intrigue, where alliances were forged and broken as easily as the shifting tides of the night.

"What's up," I smiled as I entered a darkened street corner dusted with the scent of blood and gunpowder. Clearly, something had occurred just before I arrived, but I failed to find any evidence of such a scuffle.

"Took you long enough… where have you been?" A voice called out from the end of one of the various alleyways. From its abyssal appearance, a boy no older or bigger than me appeared, his smile just as big as mine.

"I was getting chewed out by my mom. The school found out about our contact with Tolf somehow and they snitched to my mother. She threatened to take me back home where my other mother will train me or something."

"If it's with your other mother…" The boy's smile slwoly dipped and a drop of sweat ran down his cheek. "... wouldn't that mean she's going to be training you for the war? You know we're not old enough to be drafted yet, so we can avoid that shit hole entirely."

"Come on man, they're not gonna send me to the battlefield. And even if that does happen, my mother will come running to save me anyway-"

I froze, my face drooping into a puddle of fear and shock. My friend's flesh appeared to sag and drip from his bones as if melting away like wax under some malevolent force. His once-human visage contorted in agony, and his eyes, once filled with life, now glowed with an eerie, hollow light.

As his skin slid away, it revealed the grim truth—this boy had been a skeleton… but for how long exactly? Concealed beneath a ghastly illusion of life, his skeletal form was grotesque, with elongated limbs and empty eye sockets that seemed to stare into the void. The unnatural spectacle sent shivers down the spines of any unfortunate witnesses.

A deathly aura clung to him, casting an oppressive shadow over the surrounding area. The air grew cold, and a palpable sense of dread hung heavy in the atmosphere. It was as though the very essence of death itself had materialized in this forsaken alleyway.

From the darkness of a nearby abandoned alleyway, a figure emerged. The necromancer revealed himself, his presence suffused with an unsettling air of power and malevolence. His robes, tattered and adorned with arcane symbols, billowed around him like a shroud.

With a sinister grin, the necromancer extended a bony hand toward the skeletal figure. Dark energies crackled and swirled around his outstretched fingers, forming an intricate web of necromantic magic. It was clear that he was the architect of this grotesque transformation, the master of life and death in this forsaken corner of the world.

"Awaken, my puppet," the necromancer hissed, his voice dripping with malice. "You have served your purpose well, but now you shall serve me even in death."

The skeletal figure, now fully revealed, turned its hollow gaze toward the necromancer and obeyed, its movements mechanical and devoid of emotion. It was a chilling reminder of the dark powers that lurked in the shadows of this fantastical world, where life and death danced to the macabre tune of those who dared to wield such sinister magic.

Draped in a flowing black cloak that trailed behind him like a sinister shroud, the necromancer exuded an aura of otherworldly darkness. His long, white hair cascaded down his back, contrasting starkly with his ashen, almost bone-white skin.

The most striking feature of the necromancer was undoubtedly the pair of bony, twisted horns that jutted forth from his forehead. They spiraled upward like ancient, gnarled branches of a long-dead tree, casting eerie shadows across his face. These horns, though grotesque, seemed to possess an unnatural grace, as if they were an extension of his very essence.

The necromancer's eyes were a chilling sight to behold. Two skeletal sockets, devoid of flesh or any hint of humanity, held orbs of pure darkness. His pupils were miniature skulls, their hollow eyesockets seemingly peering into the void. They radiated a sense of ancient malevolence as if they held the secrets of countless souls ensnared by his dark magic.

His black cloak billowed around him, revealing gnarled, bony fingers that ended in wickedly sharp talons. Around his neck, he wore a pendant adorned with dark sigils, a testament to his mastery over the forces of death and the occult.

As the necromancer stepped forward, each footfall seemed to echo with a sinister resonance. His very presence sent shivers down the spines of those who beheld him, for he was a master of the macabre, a wielder of the dark arts that defied the natural order.

In this fantastical world, where magic and darkness intertwined, the necromancer stood as a living embodiment of the eerie and the unholy. His appearance was a testament to his power, a reminder that in the shadows, where life and death converged, he held dominion over the very essence of mortality itself.

"Teach- Teacher?" I stuttered, left utterly defeated at the shocking revelation. Was it my mother who set this up? Was it the school? Was it of his own personal interests? Maybe even the demon king?

"Sorry, kid. Your mother is too powerful for the school to deny any of her requests."

"Just buy her off! She loves money! Why the fuck would you even kill one of my friends just for the sake of this stupid request-"

"Not that one. The other one… I'm sorry. I can't do anything about this, but I can assure you that your friend's soul will be put to good use, serving this utopia that we live in."

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