Tyree's smile shifted from joy to confusion as the voice persisted, unseen. Suddenly, a shattering sound echoed from beyond the far side of the barrier, revealing a man with blood at the bottom of his white gloves.
Wearing a weathered face that carried the rough etches of age; it gradually morphed before his eyes brightened and his skin turned into a paler shade, a comparatively youthful visage now adorned him with a mix of orange and black hair.
"CLAP CLAP"
As the barrier mended itself, transitioning from invisibility to a greyish hue, he clapped his hands appreciatively.
"What a fine show you have put on, Mr. Fireboy," he remarked theatrically, and while his words carried an air of mockery they were also delivered with a hint of genuine admiration, which only seemed to further perplexe Tyree.
'Who are you?"
Offering a smirk in return, Tyree's patience waned, as he demanded the man to identify himself.
