The world stopped for a second. Everything whirled around in a slow motion, and countless layers of shield flickered ahead the path of the rushing token. Azure, red, yellow, white; even shapeless. While it pierced layer by layer, showing no signs of slowing down, and left behind brilliant showers of swirling colorful elements around the path of storm it left behind.
The mages had desperate expressions. They burned every ounce of mana in the shortest amount of time. However, their efforts failed to hinder the gleaming token. Their expressions twisted into extreme shame.
Before it could pierce King Aeron whose face never left the asylum of darkness, an invisible suppression compelled the token to abandon its lethal speed.
It hovered gently in the air before dropping into his firm palms, which seemed to wield the power to thrash a city into ruins.
"Mind your actions, my sword knows no imperial blood, it dances on my will and slays a sure kill!"
Amidst dozens of curses and startled cries, a thick and deep voice was singled out in the room. Commander Dagon was heaving deep breaths. With his sword drawn from the scabbard, he loomed over like a mountain, ready to devour anyone who tried to invite his rage.
He turned his gaze towards his King, the Protector of the South, and kneeled down on one knee.
"My boiling blood thirsts for your command, my king."
"So do the mages of House Aeron. We await your command." The proud mages who never bent their back, lowered their heads in shame, and knelt on one knee.
They were upset by the fact that they could not even defend against a casual attack of a nameless Imperial Envoy.
Every one of them knew that killing the Imperial Envoy might result in the slaughter of their entire seven generations.
However, no one hesitated, and knelt motionless. The cold floor could not lower the temperature of their raging body.
The heavy silence once again swept around the hall. It had a sharp edge to it—gesturing towards a brewing storm. Like the reverberating thunder before the devastated earth. It shrieked like a war cry before the bloody dance of death.
"A nice throw indeed. I will gladly accept the goodwill of His Imperial Majesty." King Aeron gestured to everyone to stand up. "Stand up now. No need to get angry over a dog's mischief."
The remark did not erase the wriggling grievance on their faces, and they continued to kneel.
"Seems like even the wind listens to the command of King Aeron, haha. It is quite a sight to watch you all kneel. As King suggested, we are just dogs. However, the lowly ones don't even dare to bark. Haha. I will bid my farewell then, my lord, the Dark Slayer,"
The Imperial Envoy said those last three words with cutting concentration.
"Who said you can leave?"
The footsteps came to a heavy stop, and the smile around his lips faded. He turned to look towards the silhouette above the sharp throne, and only now did he notice that he did not even lift his hands to stop his attack.
The iron throne which had governed the South of the kingdom. The silent yet predatory eyes of the draconic head that hung above the throne. The gleaming demonic cores of Grade Six beast that littered around every inch of the throne.
A strange fear was born in his heart at that moment. The execution not long ago flashed over his mind, as he gazed at the gloomy platform that flickered with the mysterious blue light.
Taking deep breaths, he asked, "Does the king have anything to command? Or does he wish to stop me, the voice of the emperor himself?" Imposition had shredded from his voice by a few hertz.
"Yes, I do. Leave behind your hand."
It echoed calm and insignificant. It echoed like a command of a King to his servant; it echoed strong and powerful.
The Imperial Envoy felt a gentle breeze above his head, and his robe which hovered in the air like a maiden's skirt fell.
For the first time in his life, he felt the wind abandoning him; the world around him turning blurry and dark. After the split second, he finally recovered and his eyes widened.
It was infinite gray. His eyes. Envoy would never forget the destructive calmness it held. A mayhem huddled behind the peaceful gray mist.
Flames. Red hair that danced like flames. Red as blood. Even his features were sharp like that of a sword, capable of piercing through space and time.
Last but not least, a slight yet devilish smirk that hung around his lips. He felt it was hiding disdain for the entire world to see.
He knew he would never forget this day. Just like the man, they would stay immortal in his mind.
A cold touch fell on his wrist, falling warm and painful. Painful? Pain?
Yes. It was pain. An unimaginable pain. It coursed through his right hand all the way to his soul. He felt all the heat leaving his body through his right hand. It felt really cold.
The Imperial Envoy tremblingly looked down at his hand, which was bleeding hot blood, and pursed his lips. He burned his mana. No, he begged for it to burn. But it never came, as if it had gone into seclusion.
And the silence finally broke, like a mistress' fantasy. Through the wind, it sang, of some unknown destiny; a magical tragedy; an odyssey through space and time…