The Professor's faint white brows twitched upward, creating creases on his forehead, mirroring the unsettling question that hung in the air like a looming storm. The room crackled with tension as he addressed Sensei, his voice filled with a sense of urgency and gravity.
"Verily, alas, dear Sensei, a definitive response to thine inquiry still escapeth us," he said, his words suspendeth in the atmosphere like a delicate thread. "Furthermore, this assemblage doth not give attention to such matters, but rather, to another unanticipated subject," he accentuated, his voice laying stress upon the import of the words 'other unanticipated.'
Sensei nodded solemnly, his gaze shifting away. Tess felt a lump form in her throat as the Professor's piercing green eyes darted towards her and then back to Sensei. The signs that had previously pointed solely at her now shifted, indicating that the Professor, too, was privy to her deep dark secret. Damn it!
"Aye, queries," the Professor continued, his hands emerging from the voluminous sleeves of his robe. His fingers intertwined, forming a web of anticipation, as he brought both hands to rest comfortably over his abdomen.
Lanse blurted out, his voice filled with a mix of anger and curiosity, "Who were those savages that nearly took our lives?"
Zack's hazel eyes widened with each word he uttered, a growing intensity radiating from him. "More importantly, did you know they were going to be there?"
As the girl with short curly black hair spoke, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and confusion, the Professor turned to face her. Her question hung in the air like a haunting melody.
"If they wanted the fragment, why did they have to hurt us like that?"
Zino nervously bit her lips, hesitant to voice her query. Meanwhile, Tess, consumed by thoughts of her exposed secret, decided to remain silent, opting instead to observe the two men closely, crafting a plan in her mind.
The Professor nodded, acknowledging their collective inquiries. The sound of his assent reverberated through the room, intermingling with the rapid beats of their hearts. It was the first time he had heard them speak, their words reminiscent of their previous encounter. He recalled how his accent had triggered their laughter, prompting him to adopt the vernacular of the modern world when conversing with them.
He had mastered the art of substitution and rephrasing, employing words that would resonate with them. Tess couldn't help but raise an intrigued eyebrow, expecting to hear something otherworldly spill from his lips, the resonance of an alien tongue.
His lips, etched with countless lines of wisdom, began to part, shaping the words that would ignite the embers of curiosity within their souls.
"Yes," he spoke, his voice carrying the weight of the ages, "I have heard your questions, and it is fitting that we begin with those responsible for your plight." His words, like drops of molten silver, cascaded from his tongue, infused with a primal energy that crackled through the air.
"Understand this," he continued, his eyes gleaming with the fire of knowledge, "we, the elders, possess fragments of wisdom gleaned from the drift. We tread a path still shrouded in mystery, and thus can offer you only morsels of what we have uncovered." His words swirled with a tantalizing blend of revelation and restraint, fueling their hunger for more.
A thunderous revelation thundered from the elder's timeworn lips, casting an arcane spell over the room. "Behold!" he proclaimed, his voice resonating like the clash of celestial forces. "The ones you valiantly faced, they are the descendants of the Elites, an ancient brotherhood of Jorah's devoted followers. Born in an era when Jorah still retained his benevolent essence, they aided him in his possession of the once-complete Alpha Seal, a relic of unparalleled might."
The air crackled with a palpable tension as the weight of history bore down upon their shoulders. The very fabric of reality seemed to shimmer with the echoes of a bygone era, as the words wove a tapestry of forgotten legends and primordial power.
"Survivors or newly anointed acolytes," the elder continued, his voice laden with a mixture of sorrow and fury, "these servants of darkness hail from a time long past, their mission unchanged across the eons. They exist to carry out the vile will of Jorah, the Destroyer, whose transformation into a harbinger of chaos shattered his noble form and corrupted his very essence."
The elder's voice, a cadence of ancient wisdom, pierced the air, infusing the room with a sense of foreboding. His words carried the weight of elusive knowledge, harnessed from the enigmatic realm of the drift.
"Listen closely, for the veil of understanding shall be lifted," he intoned, his voice resonating with arcane power. "Among the group you faced, only one treads the tenuous line between humanity and darkness. This individual, a male, has delved deep into the well of dark sorcery, causing his life force to deviate and become entwined with the manifestation of black mana. An old soul, his life force in the drift extends too far beyond the level we the elders could venture, obscuring his true origins."
"But fear not, for I shall impart upon you what we have gleaned from the drift," the elder continued, his voice a current of assurance amidst the swirling unknown. "In the realm of the drift, this individual is known as Sid. He stands as the solitary wielder of sorcery within the group, a wayward descendant of the Chewlete lineage. However, his actions and interactions reveal him to be a man of few words, relying instead on a shared telepathic link with his comrades."
Tess and her companions exchanged glances, realization dawning upon them like a bolt of lightning. The hooded figure they had encountered had never spoken to them directly; rather, his voice had echoed through their minds, a cunning tactic that had succeeded in provoking their reactions.
Zack, his mind racing with newfound understanding, deduced that Sid could not have been the talkative hooded figure. As a Chewlete, he possessed distinctive light hair, setting him apart. The pieces of the puzzle began to align, and he lamented his lack of a typepad to record this vital information.
"Another presence within their ranks, identifying itself as Legion, is a unified embodiment of legions of dark spirits," the elder continued, his voice now tinged with a solemnity that echoed through the room. "United in purpose and endowed with formidable power and intelligence, this entity claims dominion over all dark spirits."
The members of Tess's group nodded in unison, their collective gaze sharpening as they connected the dots. The Professor's description of the hooded figure, with its voice resonating like a chorus of thousands, evoked a shiver of remembrance within them. The magnitude of their foe loomed larger than ever.
The elder's voice, soft and tinged with an air of mystery, continued to unravel the tapestry of their world.
"Moreover," the elder continued, his words now veering into uncharted territory, "Legion carries within himself an additional soul. Like Sid, this soul's life force has traversed time beyond our grasp, its origin hidden in the depths of the unknown."
These new revelations left the five of them perplexed. Hadn't the hooded figure, Legion, sworn upon his possession of nine million souls? Why, then, did the Professor mention an extra soul—a single entity distinct from the countless others?
The contradiction sowed seeds of doubt in their minds, casting a shadow of uncertainty over everything the elder had shared. Their trust began to waver, their minds questioning the reliability of the information they had received.
The elder proceeded, introducing another enigmatic entity. "Through the drift, it is known as Reve. Its feeble life force puzzled us, signifying either low intelligence or a past marred by alterations. One theory posited that its current state represented a form of afterlife, a remnant of a damaged previous existence. Transformed into a winged species commonly found across the Vale, Reve had taken on a new identity in this world."
Recognition sparked within them as they realized the allusion to the blackbird that had manipulated Zino, driving her to her tragic demise. Yet, the mention of the Vale stirred fear in their hearts once more.
What did the elder mean by creatures "common across the Vale"? It hinted at his familiarity with the parallel world teeming with monsters and beings believed to be mere myths—a realization that widened their eyes in awe and trepidation.
The Professor's voice resonated with a mix of caution and urgency as he delved into the last member of the group. "Lastly," he began, his words weighted with significance, "is Jade—a name associated with the presumed daughter of Jorah, before his corruption and transformation into the monstrous force that triggered the second Apocalypse. However, the individual you encountered is not his actual daughter, and her soul does not possess the age and depth of Sid or the enigmatic soul in the bird form."
The mention of Jade as a leading figure among the group caught their attention, igniting a surge of curiosity. Their minds raced to recall the distinctive traits of the three individuals they had faced. Were they not all male?
The puzzle pieces began to align as Lanse, the first to grasp the Professor's intention, realized he was referring to the one with a feminine essence—the one with jet black hair and eyes veiled by strands of hair. It was she who had conjured the lethal swords that had nearly claimed both Lanse's and Zack's lives.
The Professor's next revelation sent a ripple of unease through the group. "She, like Sid, bears a semblance of humanity," he continued, his voice quivering with trepidation, "yet she is, by far, the furthest from being human among them all. Her external appearance is nothing more than a deceptive shell."
Szedra's vivid imagination seized hold of her, conjuring haunting images of the entity the Professor described. She envisioned a gray visage, its face contorting and splitting as cracks branched out from the ink-filled eyes, revealing an abyss of darkness beneath.
Fragments of the shattered façade peeled away like broken shards of ceramic, leaving behind a void of pitch-black essence. She blinked forcefully, as if to shake off the disturbing vision, and clutched her arms tightly, determined to focus on the Professor's words amidst the turmoil within her mind.
The Professor's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and awe as he continued his unsettling narrative. "Interactions with her in the drift are scarce and elusive, which strengthens our belief that she is far removed from humanity. She was never born from the lifeblood of the planet's lifestream; instead, she emerged as a sentient form of dark mana, taking on an intelligent and conscious existence. This connection to the Dark Lord, and the transformation she underwent through it, makes her the most formidable link to his malevolent power."
The recruits' jaws dropped in disbelief and horror at the Professor's words. It felt as if he had plucked his description straight out of the depths of a nightmarish movie. The chilling realization sank in—they were dealing with something truly twisted and macabre.
"This is another reason why we believe she holds a position of authority within the Elites," the Professor continued, his voice quivering. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the echoes of his words hanging in the air. The recruits stared at the wrinkled contours of his lips, sensing that the words about to be uttered would fit seamlessly into the horrifying tale that unfolded before them—a tale shared by a frail old man in the depths of an eerie, hushed room.
"They seek the fragments for a different purpose," the Professor finally whispered, his voice laden with a mixture of trepidation and grim certainty. The weight of his words settled heavily upon the room, sending a shiver down their spines. The recruits exchanged uneasy glances, their minds racing to comprehend the implications of this revelation.