Kieran’s eyes, sharp and focused, were scanning the battlefield, taking in every detail. The barrier he had set up around the capital was doing its job—alerting him to any disturbances. But as the fight dragged on, something felt... off. The presence in the shadows, a flicker in the corner of his vision, caught his attention. It was a figure, moving just outside the barrier, hidden in the shadows as though waiting for the right moment to strike.

Kieran’s senses flared. The figure had eyes—neon red, glowing with an ominous intensity. And the symbol on the back of its cloak... a blood-red eye, dripping with malice. It wasn’t just a regular threat; this was something far more dangerous, something he had never encountered before.

Without hesitation, Kieran raised his hand, using his teleportation skill to instantly close the distance between him and the lurking figure. In an instant, he was standing in front of the shadowed figure, his presence almost overwhelming. The figure, still hidden beneath its hood, flinched but didn’t retreat.

"Who are you?" Kieran demanded, his voice cold, a dangerous edge lacing his words.

The figure said nothing, but the red eyes glowed even brighter, their intensity almost burning into Kieran’s soul. The air seemed to shift around them, thick with tension.

Then, without warning, the figure made its move.

With a burst of power, the figure’s hand shot forward, and Kieran instinctively countered. The figure’s magic flared to life—a skill unlike anything Kieran had seen before, a unique Spatial Magic that bent the very fabric of space around them. The magic was nearly identical to his own, but more fluid, more erratic. Kieran’s senses immediately went into overdrive as he engaged in a violent clash of magic with this mysterious figure.

Space itself bent and twisted as they exchanged blows, neither one yielding an inch. Kieran’s mind raced, analyzing every movement, every flicker of magic. It was like fighting against his own mirror image—his own powers, but amplified, uncontrolled.

The figure’s speed was unlike anything Kieran had ever encountered. His every movement was fast, too fast, making it difficult to land a solid blow. Yet Kieran could sense that the figure wasn’t invincible; he was just elusive, relying on his spatial magic to evade and counter. The figure’s mask, obscuring its face, was the only thing that kept its identity hidden. But Kieran could still see those red eyes, burning with a malicious, otherworldly aura.

With a sharp movement, Kieran shifted his stance and launched a powerful burst of magic, sending a concentrated arc of energy toward the figure. For a brief moment, the figure hesitated, and that hesitation was all Kieran needed.

The magic slammed into the figure’s abdomen, leaving a deep gash that spilled blood onto the ground. The figure staggered back, stumbling in pain. Kieran didn’t waste the opportunity. With a swift motion, he reached out and slashed through the figure’s necklace, cutting it clean in half. The symbol of the blood-red eye fell to the ground, glistening in the moonlight, and Kieran’s gaze narrowed as the figure let out a low growl of frustration.

The figure, now wounded and with its symbol severed, retreated. The demonoids that had been following it scattered with their master, retreating into the shadows. Kieran’s eyes tracked their movement, his body tense, but he knew the fight wasn’t over.

The figure wasn’t just a mindless puppet; it was a puppet master. And he had just made his first move.

Kieran stood over the bloodstained ground, his breathing steady but filled with the weight of the encounter. His gaze fell to the symbol that lay on the ground—an eye, dripping with blood, the symbol that had been the figure’s mark. There was something deeply unsettling about it, something Kieran couldn’t quite place. But one thing was clear: this enemy was powerful, and the threat he posed was only just beginning.

Kieran clenched his fist, his eyes burning with a quiet fury. "Whoever you are," he muttered under his breath, "you’ve made a mistake. And I will find you."

As the night began to settle once more, Kieran turned back toward the city, his mind already moving forward. The hunt had begun, and now it was only a matter of time before he uncovered the truth behind the mysterious figure and the horrors he had unleashed.

Kieran walked with purpose, the bloodied necklace clasped tightly in his hand as he retraced his steps toward the site of the battle. The tension still lingered in the air, the night filled with a sense of unease. He needed to find Roderick and assess the aftermath, but something about the encounter gnawed at him. That symbol—the blood-red eye—it was a symbol of something bigger. Something far more dangerous.

When Kieran arrived, he found Roderick lying unconscious on the ground, his body drained of mana after his battle with the demonoid minions. The legendary mage’s breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling slowly. The depletion of his mana had taken its toll on him, leaving him vulnerable and weakened.

However, standing over him was Elara, her hands glowing with a soft, golden light as she channeled her Healing Magic into Roderick’s battered body. Her focus was unwavering, but Kieran could sense the tension in her movements. She was working hard to restore his strength, but it wasn’t an easy task. Her magic wasn’t as powerful as the healing arts of the capital’s most skilled healers, but it was enough to stabilize him for now.

Kieran didn’t say a word as he watched from the edge of the clearing. Elara hadn’t noticed his arrival, her focus solely on Roderick. He took a moment to observe her, the way she moved with determination, the same way she had acted when they first met. It was odd, but a part of him—deep down, perhaps—felt a faint appreciation for her. She was loyal, she was kind, but above all, she was strong.

Still, he didn’t linger. There was more to be done, more to understand about the mysterious figure he had fought. He had to go to the King and report what he had found.

With the necklace still in his hand, Kieran turned and walked toward the capital. He didn’t look back at Roderick or Elara. His mind was focused on the bigger picture.

---

By the time Kieran reached the royal palace, the night sky had begun to fade, giving way to the first hints of dawn. The streets of the capital were quiet, the citizens still asleep, unaware of the horrors that had unfolded just outside their city’s walls.

The guards at the entrance of the palace nodded to him as he passed, having already been informed of his return. The King awaited him in the royal chambers, his expression solemn. Kieran didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He walked straight into the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

"Your Majesty," Kieran said, holding out the bloodied necklace, the symbol of the blood-red eye clearly visible. "I’ve encountered something… troubling."

The King’s eyes narrowed as he examined the necklace. His brow furrowed in confusion and concern. "Where did you find this?"

"In the aftermath of the battle," Kieran explained. "There was a man—or something—who wore this symbol. I confronted him, but he escaped before I could get more answers."

The King took a deep breath, looking troubled. "This symbol..." He paused, as if considering his words carefully. "I’ve seen it before. It’s been whispered about in rumors—an organization operating in the shadows of the world. But no one has ever been able to confirm its existence."

"An organization?" Kieran asked, his eyes narrowing. "But for what purpose? What are they trying to achieve?"

The King’s face grew darker. "They are known as the Crimson Eye—a sect of powerful mages, demons, and those who have rejected the gods. Their goal is to overturn the balance of power in this world, to create a new order where they rule supreme. They’ve been linked to disappearances, corruption, and dark magic for years, but we’ve never been able to stop them. Every time they appear, they vanish without a trace, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake."

Kieran clenched his fist around the necklace, the weight of the revelation sinking in. The Crimson Eye. He had been right to suspect that this symbol represented something far greater than just a rogue mage.

"This is bigger than I thought," Kieran said, his voice low and dangerous. "And if they’ve been operating in the shadows for so long, they must have a strong network, a plan in place."

The King nodded gravely. "Yes, and that’s why we need to know who’s behind this, and how we can stop them. We cannot let them destroy everything we’ve worked for. The lives of our people, the peace we’ve fought for... all of it is at risk."

Kieran’s eyes glinted with an intensity that matched the King’s. "Then let’s find them. And end this, once and for all."

The King looked at him, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "I knew you were the one who could help us, Kieran. But this will be no easy task. They have powerful allies, and they will not hesitate to destroy anyone who stands in their way."

Kieran’s gaze hardened, the memories of his past and the injustice he had suffered fueling his resolve. "I’ve fought worse than this. Let’s bring them down."

The King gave a solemn nod, and the two of them stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their responsibility hanging between them. Kieran could feel the looming storm on the horizon. The Crimson Eye was a threat that had been building in the shadows, but now it was time to bring them into the light.

And Kieran would make sure that, no matter the cost, they would pay for everything they had done.