The sun sat low in the sky as the group made their way into Eagle City--its towering skyline a fusion of chrome spires, neon signs, and castle stonework poking through like relics refusing to be forgotten. In a world now dominated by tech and many-more mana-less civilians than what's supposed to be possible, magic was little more than a whisper in back alleys or locked away behind glass.

Rikushi, accompanied by Toku, Blaidd, and Ceri, strolled the market streets, their goal? simple: food, supplies, and perhaps a little insight into who truly ruled this strange future. The world had changed. 

Magic, once sacred and free, was now taxed, regulated, and commercialized--just another commodity for the rich and powerful. And somewhere behind it all, someone was pulling strings.

As the group passed an old shop tucked between two sleek coffee bars, Rikushi froze. His eyes caught a glimpse through the dusty window--a familiar shimmer of obsidian black and faint pink glow. His saber. Not just any weapon, but his family's heirloom--an estoc with a pink soul-gem, forged generations ago and had thought to be lost in the fall.

"Blaidd," he murmured, eyes fixed. "That's mine."

Without hesitation, they formed a quiet plan. Ceri and Toku waited outside, playfully distracting passersby and the shopkeeper alike. Ceri offered idle conversation and subtle glances toward the shelves while Toku clumsily asked awkward questions about the weather and local eateries, drawing attention away.

Inside, Rikushi and Blaidd slipped past wards and scanners, using old magic sigils that still whispered to those who remembered. One by one, Rikushi gathered his past: the black estoc, a worn gauntlet, five elemental rings--each pulsing with dormant power of space, fire, water, rock, and air. A cloak faded but enchanted, a relic rifle that looked like an antique yet hummed with energy, and other forgotten trinkets--twelve in total. Each one connected to the forgotten days of their bloodline.

As they exited, shadows moved with interest.

In the crimson glow of Eagle City's red-light district, two figures watched--Reiku Shiari, a sultry enchantress with eyes like stained glass, and Rumoto Melt, charming yet sly, lounging against the edge of an alley. They had seen enough.

Later that night, as the group returned home, Rikushi stepped outside their abode for air. The city whispered secrets, and someone answered.

A hand slid around his waist, warm breath at his neck. "You're not exactly subtle, relic hunter," Reiku purred, her voice like a blade wrapped in silk. "I could call the Peacekeepers on you. But..."

Rikushi tensed, hand on his saber, but didn't move.

"...I won't. Not if you come visit me tomorrow. My club. Sunset. Don't be late~."

Before he could answer, she was gone, the wind barely carrying her scent.

Back inside, the group laid the artifacts out across the table, each item pulsing with potential. With their successful heist came a realization: these relics weren't just tools. They were keys. Keys to a forgotten age of real Magic--untouched by greed, unchained from laws, and unused by the people of today.

And they were the only ones who remembered how to use them.

The age of forgotten power was beginning to stir once more.