The cacophony of a raucous and fragmenting baritone splintered itself over the pandemonium of noises clanging inside the vicinage of the concourse for the aristocratic party.

"My brother accepted the offer?" The mellifluous soprano of Dusk Shikyo gruffly reverberated. He sipped in an inundation of wine from his golden-bedecked cup, lifting up the goblet of alcohol. "I'm baffled."

"Shall I summon you some proof, my lord?" His faithful, unentertained servant humourlessly riposted, gandering over to all of the entities dancing or discussing in the sector. She canted her head, sighing. "Or shall that be all?"

"No. No. Seora, that's all." Dusk casually dismissed, planting his goblet of wine onto the party-hall's table. He brushed a smooth hand across his ebony-painted hair, huffing. "Aurora shall be elated for a good battle."

Dusk slithered towards another table of food and beverages, selecting one of the goblets of a grape-concocted fluid. He gulped in a ripple of it, swiping at the tincture drifting through the flesh of his lips.

"Karasuu..." Dusk impassively grouched to himself, settling the tipple onto the top of the edifice's mahogany-table. He stepped towards the entrance of the concourse's sector, his purple and pitiless irises frolicking. "Hm..."

"What shall this little game of yours entail?"

19th of April 2067 - Wednesday:

Vasura Hii's Experience:

Wukong and I both lounged inside the satiny fabric of our residence's sofa. I hoisted up a cup of rippling coffee onto my frigid and smooth lips, swallowing in some of the elixir.

I peered over to the body of Karasuu: who ensconced himself onto another sanguine-bedizened chair in front of the two of us. He tapped all five of his fingers at the seat's crimson arm-chair, humming. "Shall you accept, then?"

This was an interesting offer for me. Karasuu was planning on visiting his relatives to discuss who would be suited as the heir of his progenitor's throne - and he wanted both Wukong and I to accompany him on this little trip.

"Okay..." I bemusedly drawled to myself, planting my mug of coffee onto the square-framed plate of the living-room's table. I crossed my legs atop the sofa, reclining my back onto its material. "First of all-"

"You're gonna be a big-time lord or something?!" Wukong vociferously murmured in a flummoxed and baffled falsetto. He clutched onto the shrunken-body of his staff, groaning. "What? Are you gonna wear a monocle?"

"Ignoring him." I blandly chuckled, glancing towards the ageless visage of Karasuu. His features were unperturbed and entertained as his purple gaze brushed itself over our reception to this news. "Why would we come?"

"It'd be more fun." Karasuu casually laughed back, swiping his fingers up from the sanguine-decorated chair. He drove his hand through his head, perusing the purlieu's paintings of dragons. "Okay, what about this."

"The Shikyo family is a famous one." He mellifluently elucidated, flicking himself into the fabric of his chair's mahogany and fire-brick-designed frames. Karasuu slumped into the seat, sighing. "And I'm one of its heirs."

"Where would we come into this, then?"

"I simply want some of my friends to come." Karasuu insouciantly riposted, a cheeky and shrewd smirk decorating itself over his pale mien. He stretched his hand up, abrading it at the flesh of his neck. "Isn't that enough?"

"Wait a minute!" Wukong ardently intervened, balancing the form of Horuss on the top of his shoulder. He climbed onto his feet, pressing them onto the fabric of the sofa. "I shall accompany you!"

"Thanks-"

"If you give me a monocle!"

"The monocle is yours, Wukong." Karasuu lackadaisically retorted, stepping up from the pad of his sanguine-painted chair. He strolled over to me, lifting his arm up for a short-timed hand-shake. "Thanks, Vasura."

"My pleasure, my good sir."

26th of April 2067 - Wednesday:

I sauntered out of the personal-environs of my bed-room, engulfed by the ebony-cloak of the Shikyo family. I glanced at the sigil of a purple-flame, brushing my hand over its palpable design.

The cloaks were a gift from Karasuu's elder sister - an individual named Aurora Shikyo according to him. She was similar to Wukong in personality and adored an excellent duel of mana-utilization or weapon-usage.

In the Shikyo family's vision, Wukong and I would be regarded as Karasuu's envoys/travelling companions. Heh, I was unequivocally not one of his best friends for four years, certainly not. Travelling-companion sounded stupid.

I slipped my hands into my charcoal-bedecked trousers' pockets, ambling into the corridor for the entrance of our domicile. I scanned the designs and murals of the sector, suspiring. "The Death-Seeker's dimension."

Death-Seekers were humanoid-creatures: whose main mana type was the regenerative kind of magic. The unique function about them was their craving, their instinctual desire, for death itself.

Regeneration-magic was their adversary in their voyage of experiencing death. What use was dying if the gashes and lacerations were healed up? Still, for me, death was nothing more than a notion of the infinite realms.

In the week of Karasuu's offer, I preserved my natural-schedule. 1. Wake up. 2. Brush my teeth. 3. Eat some breakfast or skip the meal. 4. Take on some missions at the mage-station. 5. Get paid. 6. Get back home.

I glanced over to another corridor inside my domicile, descrying Wukong: whose body was swallowed by the obsidian-robes of the Shikyo family. He swiped his hand through his brown-hair, yawning. "Morning."

"Good morning." I care-freely riposted, waiting for the presence of Karasuu. I scanned Wukong's form, features, and mana themselves, bemused by what type of lineage he carried. "Maybe an Aer?"

The sound of Karasuu's foot-steps echoed in the aerosphere of the purlieu. He was decorated by the purple-cloak of the Shikyo family - alluding to his heir status. "Thanks for coming."

"All good!" Wukong cheekily laughed, hooking on the monocle Aurora gave Karasuu. He tapped the glass of his little accessory, manipulating his high-pitched soprano into a sophisticated one. "Hello, chaps."

"You're a dumbass." I blandly groused to myself, stepping out of the door for our residence. The three of us gandered at one another, studying the steps of the apartment-complex. "Race to the mage-station?"

"Race!"

"I'm in favour of a race."

Wukong was the victor of our race to the mage-station. I fossicked for my mage I.D inside my [Centre], internally visualizing the card of identification. I summoned it, stepping over to the guard - Mr. Noval.

"Oh, Vasura." Noval courtly chuckled, planting his spear back into the terrain of the mage-station. He gazed towards Karasuu and Wukong, both of them clutching onto their I.Ds. "And Wukong, Karasuu."

Mr. Noval pressed all five of his fingers onto the [Security-Rune] of the mage-station's gargantuan-gates, watching the mana itself scan our I.Ds. "Sorry for the trouble, the security check is never not long."

I evaporated my identification-card into the pocket-dimension of storage, perambulating through the gigantic-doors of the mage-station. I identified some of my colleagues: who all granted me little nods of passivity.

"You're popular." Wukong mischievously mocked, a childish and immature grin sprouting onto his features. He stepped into the line for the [Connector]'s platform, huffing. "They ignore me most of the time."

"Most of the time you're smacking Horuss into people." Karasuu sardonically retaliated, shunting himself through the deluge of people. He tapped the symbol of the Shikyo family, humoured. "You almost got banned."

"Sounds fun." I sarcastically smirked, ambling to the front of the desk. The receptionist flicked his glasses back up the frame of his visage, illustrating three [Identification-Runes] for my squad. "Hm."

The three of us unveiled the cards of identification at the individual. He studied them, pedalling his ebony and lackadaisical gaze across the details of our I.Ds. "Karasuu Shikyo. Vasura Hii. Helios Wukong."

"Conduct some of your mana into the sigils, please."

[Identification-Runes] carried the ability of identifying different types of creatures. They were impossible to deceive, excluding the people capable of manipulating their mana-signature itself.

A spillikin of our mana-signatures were stored into the material of our mage I.Ds themselves. The [Identification-Runes] replicated the signature and, if our presences weren't matching, would scintillate crimson.

I channelled a pulsation of natural-mana into the design of the sigil, descrying the green-glister of the rune. Wukong and Karasuu pressed their magical-energy into the symbol, as it rippled green for them.

"Your mana matches the cards." The receptionist nodded to himself, slipping our cards across the mahogany-desk. He tipped his glasses forward, studying Wukong's ebony-monocle. "Incredible fashion, sir."

"Thanks!"

Wukong and I bounded onto the top of the [Connector]'s platform - while Karasuu raised the section of his cloak painted by the Shikyo family symbol, lifting it at the worker: who pulsed his mana into the key-board of sigils.

"Demise is the name of the Death-Seeker's realm." Karasuu cryptically murmured, blurring onto the surface of the teleportation platform. He hooked his purple-bedecked cloak back on, humming. "Pretty ironic, huh?"

Demise was a word synonymous to death.

Ironic, indeed.

I stepped through the dissolving layer of yellow-mana, settling onto the surface of the Demise-realm's mage-station. Karasuu and Wukong strolled from the platform, the former of the two perusing the vicinage.

My bemusement was augmented by the evaporating line of individuals: who all pedalled back from the outline of seven people. Karasuu casually smiled to himself, sauntering towards them in an unflappable gait of authority.

I materialized my sphere-connector from my storage-realm, strumming my mana into the runes as they absorbed in a throb of Demise's dimensional-mana until I flicked the transportation-device into frolicking mana fragments.

"Vasura." Wukong bemusedly mumbled, gandering at the deluge of entities. He calibrated the collar of his cloak, his features being engulfed by a baffled facade. "Are they coming for Karasuu?"

"Maybe..."

"Are they your envoys?" The blank or humourless baritone of the servant blandly groused. Her hair was bedecked by an over-spilling pink and her irises were a pitiless sanguine. "Vasura Hii? Helios Wukong?"

"Indeed, they are, Seora." Karasuu languidly riposted, stepping through the inundation of bowing people. Wukong whizzed over to him, discussing something in a sneaky and hushed falsetto. "Perhaps they shall."

I sauntered into the formation the guards of Karasuu's family germinated, stepping from the gates of the mage-station. I glimpsed the carriage, strolling across the path as I entered the vehicle's accommodations.

"Damn, six guards." Wukong lazily murmured, impressed. He swiped his crimson and incinerating gaze out of the window, scanning the guards: who travelled on top of Ryioses - horse-type creatures. "Heh, I could take them."

"Sure, you could." Karasuu acerbically retorted, sinking into the obsidian-fabric of the carriage's chairs. He crossed his arms, gandering at the window of our vehicle. "The discussion may become a tournament of sorts."

"Sick!"

I immediately faked myself being unconscious, reclining my back onto the seat's silky-soft fabric. A tournament of sorts? The puzzle Karasuu unveiled for me was solving itself.

"Yo, Vasura, you sleeping?" My good, old pal Wukong cheekily interrogated, brushing the frosty material of his staff across my visage. He smacked it onto my glacial lips, chuckling. "Damn, he's knocked out for now."

"Eh, give him some sleep." Karasuu insouciantly advised in a furtive and rumbling soprano. I heard the sound of something clanging, feeling the carriage itself roll forward on the path. "We can bother him later."

This truly was going to be an interesting trip.

Exiting Vasura Hii's Experience.

Vespera Shikyo stretched his arms themselves up, lounging on top of his concourse's mahogany-bedecked throne. He canted his skull, peering towards the body of his progeny; Dusk Shikyo, entertained.

"Seora is retrieving Karasuu and his envoys." Vespera lazily rumbled, an enthused and exhilarated grin painted over his timeless mien. He planted his pale-fingers onto his lap, suspiring. "What were their names?"

"Vasura Hii and Helios Wukong." Dusk grouchily reverberated, straightening up his form in the presence of his father. He inspected the scripture of information, humming. "Ring a bell, father?"

"Indeed. Karasuu wrote to me about them in his letters." Vespera throatily rasped, stepping up from the pad of his throne. He scanned Dusk's featureless visage, laughing. "Lifeless-magic and zephyr-magic."

"They sound promising." The father of Karasuu gruffly echoed, gazing over to the portraits of his six progeny. He sauntered towards his late wife's, flicking a finger onto her purple irises. "This shall be interesting at least. No?"

"I'm in concurrence, father." Dusk impassively murmured, perambulating through the gargantuan-gates of Vespera's domicile's throne-room. He tapped his ears, hearing his creator's raucous laughter. "It shall be..."

Suryaa bounded onto the skull of a sneering dragon. He pulsated his mana into the form of a lava-germinated knife, lacerating it across the neck of the creature, enthused.

Keen eyes watched.