As Arthur challenged the empyrean head on, he studied his appearance. It was an old man, not ancient in appearance, but with an agelessness that spoke of a life extended far beyond its natural span. His violet robes rippled with an echo of the temporal distortion that pulsed around him. His face was a mask of cold calculation, marked by lines etched not by age but by the weight of his terrible ambition.
There was no mistaking the bloodline, the eerie familiarity that flickered in his eyes. But while the Yalen King was a viper, this man was a storm made flesh. This, Arthur knew, was the apex of the power he'd been battling since coming into this world – the Empyrean of Yalen.
"Osian the Invincible?" the figure boomed, his voice an avalanche echoing through the distortion. "Do you think I would be scared with threats, outsider?"
