Deep beneath the crumbling undercity, where torches burned with violet flame and whispers clung to the stone, the Eclipse Order gathered. A tall woman cloaked in shadow-steel robes leaned beside the throne of obsidian.

Her name was Velmira Nocturne—The Whisper of the Eclipse.

Velmira’s voice cut through the gloom, sharp and smooth like poisoned silk. “Do you truly believe Arkan can defeat the boy who made contact with Nyxoth?”

Mald­rath sat upon the throne, his expression unreadable, fingers steepled beneath his chin. A faint glow pulsed behind his eyes.

He chuckled—low, calm, and ancient. “Hmph. Arkan… is not like the rest of us.”

Velmira’s brow furrowed. “He doesn’t serve you?”

“No,” Maldrath said, his voice now a quiet storm. “He doesn’t serve me. He serves a purpose—his own. He believes Nyxoth is the path to harmony. That this world, riddled with rot and imbalance, needs unmaking to find peace.”

“But is he capable?” she asked again, cautious now.

Maldrath leaned back. “He is beyond capable. Arkan is power in restraint. He wears rings not for decoration—but to suppress himself. Without them, his mere presence fractures the fabric of mana. The last time he removed them ... an entire village was erased without a scream.”

Velmira’s breath caught.

Mald­rath’s voice deepened, almost reverent. “He is what comes after control dies. A force… that neither obeys nor rebels. He simply is.”

A silence fell.

Velmira whispered, almost to herself. “Then the boy… Elias... may not stand a chance.”

Mald­rath smiled darkly. “He won’t. Not unless he becomes more than human.”

OUTSKIRTS OF CAEL MORHAN

The morning mist hung low, catching rays of sunlight like blades of silver. Yet the air turned dense—as if the world itself held its breath.

Elias and Arkan locked eyes across the clearing. A moment stretched into eternity.

Faith stepped closer, her voice a whisper filled with dread. “He’s the one… the one we felt earlier. That presence—it was him.”

Elias narrowed his gaze, steadying his breath. “Everyone—brace yourselves. We stop him together.”

But before weapons could be drawn or spells conjured, a shift—a blur beyond human comprehension—and Arkan stood behind them.

No sound. No wind. Just… presence.

The team froze in place. Logan stumbled back, eyes wide. “What... what just happened?”

Even Vance, usually composed, found his voice cracking. “He—he didn’t move. He appeared.”

Arkan stood tall, cloaked in a dark ensemble of silver-threaded black, seven faintly glowing rings bound to his arms. His eyes, void of emotion, scanned them like they were fragments of dust.

He spoke—his voice smooth, low, with weight that pressed upon the soul.

“You mistake survival for strength…

You stand together, thinking unity will shield you.

But the storm does not see unity—it only devours.

I am not your enemy…

I am your reminder—

that this world was never meant for the weak.”

A heavy silence.

Elias clenched his fist, stepping forward. “We’re not afraid of you.”

Arkan’s gaze finally shifted—acknowledging him directly.

“You should be.”

Arkan’s words hung in the air like a shadow that wouldn’t lift.

Elias took a bold step forward, defiance burning in his eyes. “We’re not afraid of you.”

Arkan blinked once. No change in stance, no visible movement—yet in the next instant, his hand was already on Elias’ chest.

A soft tap.

But it felt like a mountain crashing down.

BOOM—

Elias flew backward like a cannonball, crashing through the ground with a burst of dust, skidding toward the stone wall at the edge of the ruins.

Everyone screamed.

“ELIAS!”

But before Elias could collide, time itself seemed to bend—and Arkan was already there, calmly gripping Elias by the collar mid-air, stopping the impact inches before the wall. No emotion. No urgency.

Arkan leaned in slightly.

“You should be.”

He gently let Elias drop to the ground, eyes never leaving him, the pressure in the air unbearable.

Even the birds had stopped singing.

Faith stepped forward, trembling. “W-what is he?”

Logan raised his blade, voice shaking , visible fear on his face . “This guy’s… not human.”

Arkan simply turned his back, letting his presence alone speak louder than any threat.

As the dust settled and Elias gasped on the ground, a sudden gust of wind howled through the ruins.

In the blink of an eye, Dorian appeared like a storm unleashed—his aura blazing, eyes locked onto Arkan.

Without hesitation, he charged.

CRACK—

The ground beneath his feet shattered from the force of his movement.

But Arkan's eyes… moved with him. Not a blink, not a twitch—his gaze tracked Dorian’s speed effortlessly.

Arkan’s hand rose, swift and silent, aimed to intercept.

But Dorian—a seasoned warrior—twisted mid-air, his instincts sharper than most. With a clean sidestep, he avoided Arkan’s grasp, grabbed Elias’ limp form from the ground, and retreated to the others in a blur of motion.

He landed beside Faith, panting lightly. “You alright, kid?”

Elias nodded weakly.

Arkan watched the exchange, unfazed. Then, in his chilling, composed tone, he spoke: “Impressive. Most would’ve died just trying.”

Everyone stood frozen—hearts pounding, breath caught.

Arkan’s presence had nearly paralyzed them… until now.

As Dorian landed beside them, Elias in his arms, a surge of relief washed over the group. Faith exhaled sharply. Logan clenched his fists, steadying his nerves.

“Dorian…” Logan whispered, eyes wide.

“Finally,” muttered Vance, his stance easing just slightly.

Even though fear still lingered, their faces shifted—from pure dread to a fragile but growing hope.

Dorian placed Elias gently down, his eyes never leaving Arkan.

>“Stay sharp,” he said calmly to the team. “This one’s different.”

Arkan tilted his head, amused by their shift in morale.

“So this is the hope you cling to?” he said coldly, voice like a slow storm.

“Let’s see how long it lasts.”

A pulse of dark pressure radiated from him, distorting the air around. But this time… they stood their ground—because Dorian was here.

Arkan stepped forward, shadows coiling at his feet. Dorian met his approach head-on, blades of wind magic swirling around his arms.

With a sudden dash, Arkan swung a backhand—Dorian blocked, skidding back but holding his ground. The impact cracked the earth beneath them.

Logan fired a bolt of energy, but Arkan merely tilted his head, letting it pass as if time itself slowed for him.

Faith readied her seal magic.

“We have to bind him!” she shouted.

She and Logan moved in unison, glyphs forming mid-air. Just as the spell was about to activate—

“STOOOOOP!!!”

Elias’ voice thundered across the ruins.

Everything halted.

Arkan’s hand was inches away from Dorian’s chest, frozen. Logan’s spell fizzled out mid-air. Even the tension in the wind stilled.

All eyes turned to Elias—bruised, bloodied, but standing tall.

“No more fighting,” he said, voice shaking but clear. “Not like this.”

Arkan slowly retracted his hand, his gaze now locked not with hostility—but curiosity.

Elias took a step forward, wincing from the earlier blow but refusing to back down. His voice, though shaken, carried weight.

"What do you want?"

Arkan turned his head slightly, observing Elias like one might a rare phenomenon. The silence lingered—heavy, pressing.

Finally, Arkan spoke, his voice deep and composed, yet distant, like a man speaking from behind eternity.

"I came to see."

Elias frowned. “See what?”

Arkan’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, his gaze piercing.

"If you are the one… who will shatter the chains."

The air grew colder.

Faith whispered behind Elias, “Chains?”

Logan stepped up beside him, eyes cautious. “You’re with the Eclipse Order, aren’t you?”

Arkan didn’t answer that. He simply glanced at the group, then back at Elias.

"You’ve barely opened your eyes, yet Nyxoth whispers to you. Be careful what you listen to… or whom you trust."

Arkan stood still, his presence alone bending the air around him , then slowly took a step forward. Every heartbeat in the group seemed to stall.

"If you are truly capable of freeing Nyxoth…" Arkan said, his voice calm and steady, "then I have no reason to harm you."

Everyone tensed. His tone wasn’t threatening—but something worse. Certain. Absolute.

"But beware..." he continued, now just a few feet from Elias. "Should you stray from that path… should you defy what’s meant to be—"

He leaned closer, eyes glowing faintly with otherworldly power.

"—I can kill you whenever I choose." His gaze flicked to Dorian, then to the others. "And no one—not your mentor, your friends, not even yourself—can stop me."

The threat hung like a blade over their necks.

And just as suddenly as he appeared, Arkan stepped back, his figure unraveling into streaks of shadow. A gust of wind swept through the clearing.

He was gone.

The forest stood still once more—haunted by the promise he left behind.

As Arkan vanished into the wind, the air seemed to loosen—like the world exhaled all at once. And then, it hit them.

Their knees buckled.

One by one, everyone dropped to the ground, gasping, drenched in cold sweat. Their bodies hadn’t moved much… but their minds and souls felt crushed beneath something unimaginable.

Faith, clutching her chest, whispered,

"What… what was that presence…? My legs… they won’t stop shaking…"

Logan clenched his fists, jaw tight,

"It felt like standing in front of death itself. Just being near him…"

He looked at Elias. "That wasn’t a man. That was something else."

Dorian stood still, breathing heavily but composed.

"Now you understand… Arkan isn't a warrior. He’s a force of nature—" he looked at Elias, eyes filled with quiet concern, "—and he just warned us, not threatened us."

Elias, still kneeling, stared at the ground where Arkan once stood.

His voice cracked slightly. "I couldn’t even move. My body froze… my magic didn’t respond… Is this the kind of monster Maldrath commands?"

Silence followed.

Even the wind was quiet—like the forest feared to speak.

As the group slowly gathered their breath, Vance stood leaning against a tree, arms crossed, brows furrowed in thought.

Alice, still catching her breath, asked, "What… what did he mean? 'If you are truly capable of freeing Nyxoth'? Did he say Elias made contact?"

Vance glanced toward Elias, then back to the spot where Arkan once stood.

"It sounded like that. That boy..." he exhaled sharply, "He must've formed some kind of link. Even if it was brief—Arkan sensed it."

Alice frowned. "But how? Nyxoth is sealed. Locked away by the Arcane Council themselves. Contact like that shouldn't even be possible."

Vance, low and grim:

"Exactly. Which means either Elias isn’t normal… or that seal is starting to crack."

Alice looked at Elias again—sitting in silence, distant.

"If Nyxoth is reaching out again… everything we know is about to change."

Vance nodded slowly.

Dorian stood tall, scanning the shaken faces of the group. He exhaled calmly, then spoke with authority but gentleness.

Dorian: "I’ll explain everything to you all… but not now."

He looked toward Elias, then to the others.

"Right now, we need to focus on retrieving the Echo. That’s our mission."

He paused, sensing the exhaustion in every breath around him.

"But before that—catch your breath. Arkan may be gone, but his presence left more bruises on our spirit than our bodies."

He walked a few steps forward, then added with a softened tone: "You all did well. Rest for a moment. We move soon."

As the group took a moment to recover, a shadow moved silently from behind a cluster of ruined walls, hidden from the eyes of the team. The spy, cloaked in darkness, had been watching from the edge of the battlefield—silent, unnoticed. His heart raced as he had witnessed everything, from Arkan's chilling presence to the cryptic mention of Nyxoth. The fear gnawed at him.

He had heard the whispers in the shadows, had known of Arkan's power, but the confirmation of Nyxoth's name, the very essence of destruction—this was more than he had ever expected. His body trembled at the realization of how close he had been to the heart of something far greater than anyone had anticipated. Arkan, the being who had shown no sign of fear nor mercy, now carrying a message tied to the ancient force that the Arcane Council had long feared.

The spy clenched his fists, his breath quickening.

"I must report to Varies," he whispered, his voice shaky.

With one last look at the group, still unaware of his presence, the spy turned and moved with haste, melting into the shadows as if he were nothing more than a fleeting wisp. He knew the weight of the information he carried would set things into motion—things that no one, not even the Arcane Council, could control.

As he made his way toward the Varies, the head of the Arcane Council's secret operations, he couldn’t shake the terror that had taken root in his heart. The balance of the world was at stake. And from what he had seen today, no one was prepared for what was to come.