Amidst a sea of shocked onlookers, a lifeless figure lay sprawled, invoking a solemn dirge etched upon every face. A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd as one person, recognized the fallen form as none other than the bully, Sage Oza.
With heavy hearts and a mix of sorrow and disbelief, the assembly drew nearer to the lifeless body, their faces a mosaic of curiosity and apprehension, yearning to unravel the enigma shrouding his untimely demise.
In this somber moment, an undeniable fervor for answers kindled within the crowd, an electrifying energy surging as they collectively sought to unearth the secrets behind Oza's mysterious fate.
A sudden shift in the unfolding drama saw the gathering of onlookers parting with a practiced ease, recognizing the towering authority of the Phins. These esteemed individuals stepped forward and, with a grave sense of purpose, lifted the lifeless form of Sage Oza.
The assembled crowd watched in respectful silence as the Phins carried their solemn burden towards the camp's most imposing tent, the very one that served as the temporary residence for Mykon, the newly arrived luminary, and other high-ranking members.
In a dramatic entrance, the two Phins carrying the lifeless Sage Oza burst into the camp, igniting an immediate frenzy of whispers and hushed exchanges among the assembled ranks within the tent.
With an aura of commanding authority, Mykon Tarr rose to his feet and strode purposefully toward the lifeless body of Oza. He knelt beside the fallen figure, his keen eyes meticulously tracing the brutal details of the demise etched upon Oza's form.
Rising with fervor, Mykon Tarr addressed the room, his voice filled with unwavering passion, declaring, "From the sheer brutality of this act, it reeks of the handiwork of a fellow Sage, likely one of higher standing!"
With fiery determination, Mykon. Tarr turned his gaze toward the two men who had borne the grim burden, his voice ringing with resolute enthusiasm as he proclaimed, "Launch a thorough investigation into every Sage among us, for within our ranks lies the perpetrator of this heinous act!"
Amidst the tense atmosphere, a voice of experience, Layd Olani, the youngest among the gathering of seasoned individuals, spoke with a hint of weary wisdom. "This isn't our first encounter with such horrors, Mykon," he asserted.
Mykon Tarr, his eyes blazing with fervor, acknowledged the gravity of the situation. He responded with a fiery determination, "You're absolutely right. We must tread carefully, or the number of lifeless bodies we encounter daily will spiral out of control."
Layd Taki, having taken a deep draught from his substantial bottle of wine, leaned forward with an earnest inquiry, "Mykon, what course of action do you propose for the one responsible?" The urgency in his voice mirrored the passionate concern shared by all present.
In a moment pregnant with anticipation, just as Mykon Tarr prepared to respond, their collective attention was suddenly diverted to the entrance.
A striking figure, D3, with a cascade of brown dreadlocks framing his face, strode into the room, solitary and resolute. Every pair of eyes in the tent snapped onto him, their expressions a vivid blend of astonishment and curiosity, eagerly awaiting the reason behind his unexpected arrival.
With a polite bow, D3 broke the silence, declaring, "I greet you all."
A smattering of responses filled the air, some reciprocating his greeting. However, the atmosphere crackled with a tangible tension as Layd Rigus, his demeanor as grave as ever, posed the pivotal question, "What brings you here?"
In a shocking twist, D3's reply pierced the silence like a bolt of lightning. "I am the one responsible for Oza's demise."
The entire tent fell into an electrifying hush, jaws dropping in sheer disbelief. Amidst this shock, Layd Taki, his grip on the wine bottle tightening, managed to find his voice, "You expect us to accept such a claim?" His prolonged sip mirrored the incredulity coursing through the room.
D3's unwavering gaze held no trace of fear as he continued, "His broken finger, that black eye, and the scar on his neck—they are all remnants of the struggle he put up before I ended his life."
A ripple of hushed conversations surged through the ranks, and their collective expressions seemed to confirm the gruesome truth of his words, accompanied by a skeptical sneer.
Layd Rigus, known for his affinity for violence, wore an impressed expression as he inquired, "Tell me, young Actant, did you have a justifiable reason for taking his life?"
D3's response brimmed with unshakable determination. "He was a bully, a poison in our midst. His removal was necessary to protect the others from his corruption," he declared, his resolve etched clearly across his face.
Layd Rigus pondered aloud, his curiosity evident, "Considering he's just a lower Actant, is it possible for him to possess the strength required to eliminate a Sage? Or could he be something more, perhaps a Spec?"
Mykon Tarr, the authoritative figure in the room, leaned forward, his gaze penetrating as he inquired, "May I know your name?"
In a tone resonating with pride, D3 responded, "I am Dracos Draxler Demparker, though most call me D3."
Mykon Tarr, ever the astute leader, acknowledged the audacious act of D3's presence with a measured nod. "D3, your decision to stand before us, despite the inevitable consequences, is indeed a display of remarkable courage," he commended.
D3, undaunted, articulated the essence of his purpose with unwavering conviction. "I have come here because I firmly believe that my actions were driven by the best interests of the Iron Flux. Why allow the unrighteous to thrive and potentially corrupt the righteous among us?"
In the presence of this resolute young individual, a hush descended upon the room as they collectively marveled at the spirited fervor emanating from someone so youthful, yet undeniably resolute and impassioned.
D3's unwavering commitment to his cause had left an indelible impression on all those fortunate enough to bear witness to his unwavering resolve.
With a surprising twist of humor, Layd Rigus chimed in, "Mykon, why bother with punishment? Let the lad be! Who knows, with his current fiery spirit, he might just outshine all of us in the Iron Flux, or maybe even the entire realm."
Mykon Tarr, known for his wisdom, readily agreed, his own sense of humor peeking through. "You've got a point there, Layd. Why lose two soldiers when we can preserve one?"
Layd Rigus, in a lighter tone, offered parting advice to D3, "Kid, you can go for now, but remember, try killing 2 next time!" He grinned, adding with a touch of theatrical flair, "And always remember, it's Layd Rigus, the greatest of them all!"
As D3 bowed and made his exit, Layd Rigus couldn't help but fixate his gaze upon the departing youth. To himself, he mused with an air of curiosity, "He's undoubtedly a Spec." Specs, a distinct breed of warriors, possessed rare, fragile energy core shells that granted them the potential to ascend through the ranks at an accelerated pace, a phenomenon that had piqued Layd Rigus's intrigue.
*Author's note*
Yo guys I need your support
Throw at me anything you can find; power stones, golden tickets etc
Motivate me please