Back in the grand hall of the Round Table, an old priest stood once more before the shimmering Golden Veil, This priest was responsible for overseeing the veil and conveying the most important information from it. He also managed and if necessary maintained it. He was known as the Veil Priest.
"Search the database," he commanded, his voice aged but firm. "Cross-reference the description of the man in the picture with all known individuals within the kingdom and beyond. Focus on those of position and nobility." He let out a sigh "Slifer rarely asks for work like this let us take it seriously."
The veil hummed, its golden light pulsing rhythmically as it sifted through countless records. Moments stretched into an eternity. Suddenly, the veil's monotone voice echoed through the hall. "Match found. Subject identified as Rayleigh Ackerman, General of the Invictoria Kingdom. Status Missing."
The old man's eyes widened in surprise. Rayleigh Ackerman, Monarch of the battlefield. A warrior of immense influence and tactical brilliance, he had led Invictoria's armies to countless victories before mysteriously disappearing decades ago.
"Interesting," the priest mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "So the old wolf has returned from his slumber. Inform General Aporro of this development immediately."
Meanwhile, on his way back to base Slifers bracelet vibrated.
"General Aporro," Anya's voice crackled through the device, "We have new information. The man you sent a picture of has been identified by the Golden Veil, His name is Rayleigh Ackerman, the missing General of Invictoria also known as the Mornach of the Battlefield."
Slifer froze, the name echoing in his mind like a thunderclap. 'Rayleigh Ackerman, The King of the battlefield?!'
Slifers body started glowing and the area around him started vibrating scaring the citizens of Lagrange within than area, red wings made out of energy sprouted from his back. And like a bullet shot back in the direction he came from with dizzying speed.
Meanwhile, Marco and Ray had just left the tarven.
"Marco, I think this is it for the night, I'll head back to the inn to get some rest." Said Ray feeling tired. It had been a long day.
"I understand sir, I'll be seeing you tomorrow at the inn." Responded Marco.
"Okay, I'll need to search for some more information tomorrow. There is a high chance I'll be visiting the market again." muttered Ray. He turned his back on Marco and waved his hand. And Marco could only watch him walk away. He seemed to be thinking of a lot of things in that moment. But slowly turned and headed back to the clinic.
Slifer, was dashing through the air when in the distance he identified Ray about to enter the Sleeping Rabbit in. He moved even faster and stuck a super hero landing right before Rayleigh. Startling him.
"Rayleigh…." Slifer started at the old man opposite him. He wore a dark cloak just as before. And white long hair could be seen weaving about from the gentle wind.
"General Aporro." Rayleigh removed the cloak from his head. "I see that you have realized who I am."
Rayleigh Ackerman. Slifer began to think. 'This man was rarely seen on the battlefield. That's because he would be moving his army like his hands and feet. Precise and deadly. His achievements alone netted him a title in Invictoria. Ever since he disappeared. Invictoria has seen more losses than before him.'
"Ackerman, I'm bringing you to base." Their kingdom of Avalon lost a lot of men thanks to Rayleigh's strategies. As far as Slifer was concerned this was an enemy commander. He could not let him go.
"I won't resist. I could never win against you." Said Rayleigh as he thought. 'Mornach of the sky, he has enough power to contest an entire legion. Fighting him would be suicide.
Two Monarch's recognized for different reasons. Stared at each other for a moment before the silence was broken up by the arrival of a group of knights. A crowd had gathered around them wondering what was happening.
'But you see Slifer, the song has already started.' Thought Rayleigh. 'Why Travel half the world for information when I can just get it from you.'
"Take him to the base." Said Slifer. Cuffs were put on Rayleigh and he was taken away while the crowd watched.
The Capital City of the Kingdom of Avalon was called Albion.
Under the golden rays of the sun, Albion shimmered, its magic woven into every stone and every leaf. The city walls, etched with ancient runes and adorned with blooming vines, pulsed with a soft, protective energy. They guarded a realm where the extraordinary was commonplace, where the lines between the mundane and the magical blurred.
Within these walls, cobblestone streets wound through a labyrinth of fancy houses, their roofs adorned with whimsical turrets and weather vanes shaped like fantastical creatures. Sunlight glinted off the crystal windows, casting rainbows onto the cobbled paths below.
The heart of Albion was its bustling market square, a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds. Merchants hawked their enchanted wares - shimmering cloaks, potions that promised eternal youth, and talking ravens that could deliver messages across vast distances. The air buzzed with the energy of magicians practicing their craft, their murmured incantations blending with the laughter of children chasing after enchanted butterflies.
Avalon was a land of magic. For its people it was a way of life. This is what made the country strong. If a Forma Ability user, those would could only use abilities on themselves also had magic talent. Which in itself was a unique ability, abilities that could affect one's self and the environment. Then a well-trained forma user could one day exhibit Unique like combat ability.
Rising above the market square, the Royal Palace shimmered like a mirage. Its walls, constructed of moonstone, seemed to shift and change with the light, reflecting the city's ever-changing moods. High above the Royal Palace, suspended in the sky by an intricate web of enchantments, floated the majestic castle high in the distance. Its size allowed it to shadow large parts of the city during the day. This ethereal citadel, home to the royal family, was a marvel of architectural ingenuity and magical prowess. Its shimmering towers, crafted from pure white marble, seemed to pierce the heavens, their balconies offering breath-taking views of the city below.
The Cathedral of the Holy Grail, a masterpiece of ethereal architecture, stood as a testament to the city's deep-rooted faith. Its stained-glass windows depicted scenes from Arthurian legend, their colours shifting and changing with the sunlight, as if the figures within were alive. This cathedral which also acted as a church was rumoured to be home to the legendary artefact. The Holy Grail, Led people to go there and pray for what they wished during the day.
Up in the sky, the castle above Albion was a throne room. It was not merely a chamber of governance; it was a sanctuary of ancient power, Specifically Ancient Magic. It's high, vaulted ceilings, etched with celestial constellations, and seemed to draw the eye upwards towards the heavens. Sunlight, filtered through stained glass windows depicting scenes of Avalon history, painted the marble like stone floor in a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues.
King Arthur, clad in armour that gleamed like polished silver, sat upon his throne, a seat carved from a single block of obsidian. The throne's backrest, shaped like a dragon's wings, seemed to embrace the king, lending him an air of both majesty and mystique.
A shimmering mist materialized before the throne, coalescing into the ethereal form of the Lady of the Lake. Her eyes, the colour of deep sea sapphires, sparkled with an otherworldly luminescence. Her long, flowing hair, the colour of moonlight, cascaded over her shoulders, shimmering like a waterfall of silver. Unfortunately in this hall there was currently no one to admire the great beauty within this mist but Arthur himself.
"Arthur Pendragon," her voice resonated through the chamber, a melody of wind chimes and rushing water, "I come bearing tidings of a grave matter."
The king remained nonchalant as the woman spoke. "Lady of the Lake," he said, his voice ringing with authority. "What troubles you?"
The Lady of the Lake raised a delicate hand, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air. "A great fire stirs beyond the veil," she intoned, her voice laced with a hint of sorrow. "A force of unknown origin, wielding a strange power unlike any I have sensed before."
A slight feeling of unease rippled through Arthur. The Lady of the Lake was a being of immense power and wisdom, her prophecies were rarely unfounded.
"Is this a problem that could affect us?" Arthur inquired, his hand resting on the hilt of Excalibur, his legendary sword.
"It's too clouded for me to make sense of It." the Lady of the Lake replied, her voice a chilling whisper. "But I sense we could get dragged into it if handled carelessly and get burned."
Arthur's grip tightened on his sword. "Hmm..." He deliberated. "Where do I start looking for what you speak off?"
The Lady of the Lake nodded, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "Not where, But who and he is already here with one of yours."
With these words, the Lady of the Lake vanished, leaving behind a lingering mist that swirled around the throne like a spectral embrace. Arthur, stared at where the Lady of The Lake was.
"Interesting." He muttered.