(Tredor's POV)
Hovering high above the city, I paused for a moment, taking in the horrifying scene below. Flames engulfed Cimeria, one of Avalon's affluent neighborhoods, casting an eerie, dancing glow against the night sky. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning. Below, chaos reigned. Bloodied bodies lay strewn across the streets, while the injured moaned and cried out in agony. The contrast between the usually pristine, peaceful streets of the rich district and the current devastation was stark and jarring.
From my vantage point, I could see imperial mages and soldiers spilling out onto the streets, their movements swift and coordinated, their spells flickered in the air, weaving protective barriers and extinguishing fires, and helping those who could be helped. They were trained to deal with these kind of attacks.
I knew I had to act, and swiftly. Closing my eyes, I extended my magical senses, casting out a wide net over the area. The spell [Enhance] coursed through me, amplifying my senses to an extraordinary degree. The cacophony of the city rushed into my ears, a symphony of despair - cries for help, shouts of commands, the crackling of fire.
I focused, sifting through the noise, searching for any clue that might lead me to those responsible for this atrocity. And then, amidst the chaos, I caught it - a snippet of conversation, hushed and hurried. Two men discussing a 'next phase,' their voices laced with excitement and a chilling hint of anticipation.
Without hesitation, I zeroed in on the source of the voices, my body moving on instinct. I darted towards them, a streak of energy cutting through the night. The wind howled in my ears as I descended like a bullet, my eyes locked onto my targets.
As I neared, I could see them clearly - two figures cloaked in shadows, tucked away in an alley, a human and an elf, oblivious to my approach. Their conversation continued, oblivious to the disaster they had caused or the suffering unfolding mere streets away.
Landing with a force that cracked the pavement, I confronted them. The element of surprise was total. They spun around, faces twisted in shock and fear.
"What's the next phase?" I demanded, my voice booming, echoing off the surrounding buildings. "Who are you working with?"
In one swift, fluid motion, I pinned one of the men, the elf, against the wall with an outstretched arm, his back slamming against the cold bricks with a thud that echoed down the alley. My other hand shot out, gripping the second man by the throat, lifting him effortlessly off the ground, his feet dangling in terror.
For a moment, they tried to maintain their defiant facade, but it quickly crumbled under the weight of my presence. I released my aura, a tangible manifestation of my power as an archmage. It enveloped us like a thick, oppressive fog, heavy with the promise of untold might and raw energy.
The effect was immediate and visceral. The men began to convulse, their bodies unable to withstand the overwhelming force. It was as if the very air around us was electrified, crackling with the intensity of the unleashed power.
The man in my grasp gasped for air, his bravado giving way to panic. The other, pinned against the wall, struggled feebly, his eyes wide with terror. They were clearly unprepared for the full display of a Quasar's might.
"Speak," I commanded, tightening my grip just enough to reinforce the urgency of my demand. "Your plans, your allies – tell me everything."
Fear had taken hold of them, eroding their resolve. It was clear that they were mere pawns in a larger game, but even pawns could provide valuable information. I needed to know what they had planned, to understand the extent of the threat to Avalon and its people.
The man held aloft by his neck choked out words between strained breaths, finally ready to divulge their secrets. The urgency of the situation was not lost on me. Every second counted, and with each piece of information they provided, I was one step closer to preventing further chaos and protecting the city I swore to defend.
With the revelation of the insidious plan, the urgency of the situation intensified manifold. The men, crumbling under the weight of my aura, spilled out their secrets with trembling voices. They named the districts in Avalon's upper echelons – Cimeria, Valor, Tagadis, and Frobourg – as the targets, each one synonymous with affluence and nobility. Cimeria, already struck by chaos, was just the beginning; the others were to follow in a meticulously timed sequence of terror, with intervals of three minutes to maintain control and inflict maximum damage.
The mastermind behind this nefarious plot was revealed to be Sotis Gaulon, a name that resonated with notoriety within the resistance, he was a fallen elven mage, declared outlaw by the Great Hall and was known for his extreme cruelty on the battlefield. According to the trembling informants, he was to be found in Frobourg, orchestrating the next phase of this catastrophe.
Without wasting a moment, I bound the men with a spell, ensuring they could not escape to wreak further havoc. Their bodies slumped against the wall, immobilized by the magic that now held them captive.
Launching myself into the air with an urgency that matched the severity of the situation, I soared into the sky. Valor, the next target, was eighty nine kilometers away, but distance was a mere trifle for me. As I flew, the landscape below became a blur, a mix of city lights and shadows, all converging into a singular focus – stopping Sotis Gaulon and preventing further destruction.
My mind raced, processing the information, strategizing the best course of action to neutralize the threat and save the lives of countless innocents.
In the blink of an eye, I propelled myself forward, my body cutting through the air like a bolt of lightning. The night sky stretched above me, an infinite canvas of stars and darkness, while below, the landscape of Avalon blurred into a streak of colors and lights. The sense of speed was exhilarating, almost otherworldly. The wind screamed past me, a deafening roar in my ears, as I raced towards Valor with a determination that matched the urgency of my mission.
The eighty nine kilometers to Frobourg diminished rapidly. In three seconds, what should have been a vast distance was reduced to a mere dash across the landscape. The world below me was a fleeting, almost ethereal blur, landscapes merging and cities flashing by in the blink of an eye.
As I approached Frobourg, the burning intensity of my focus sharpened. The city came into view, its elegant architecture and sprawling estates a stark reminder of the lives that were under threat. I soared above the city, my eyes scanning for any unusual surges of mana.
And there, like beacons in the night, I sensed them – three distinct, powerful sources of mana, each one radiating an ominous energy that set my nerves on edge. They were not the benign, controlled flows of mana I was accustomed to in Avalon; these were wild, untamed, and dangerous.
Zeroing in on the sources, I adjusted my trajectory, descending towards the city with a precision that belied the speed of my flight. The rush of air around me lessened as I slowed, allowing the sounds of the city to reach my ears – the distant hum of late-night activity, the subtle rustle of trees in the gentle night breeze.
Time seemed to fold upon itself as I surged forward, the world around me coming to a standstill. I had entered a realm where the ordinary laws of physics no longer applied. Only I moved, a solitary force cutting through a frozen tableau.
Below me, the district of Valor lay suspended in time. Birds hung motionless mid-flight, their wings etched against the sky in a silent dance. Children played near a fountain, their laughter and movements captured in an eternal moment of joy. It was surreal, a painting come to life, with me as the sole animate character.
I ruched to the first mana source, located near the fountain where the children played. Approaching, I saw the cause of the disturbance - a bag of mana crystals, their cores unstable, rigged to explode on a precasted timer. I swiftly scooped up the bag, its ominous energy pulsing in my grasp.
Without pausing, I moved to the next source, located inside a bank. The scene inside was eerily still - patrons and staff alike frozen mid-motion, unaware of the impending danger lurking among them. I located another bag, similar to the first, and swiftly retrieved it.
The third source led me to a park, a serene space now under the shadow of malevolence. As I reached for the bag nestled among the leaves, I noticed a change - the bags began to glow with an ominous light. The spell had been activated.
Despite the urgency, to me, everything moved with an excruciating slowness. I could see the glow intensifying, the crystals within the bags pulsating with a dangerous light, a countdown to devastation.
With all three bags in my possession, I propelled myself into the air, moving with a speed that defied comprehension. My ascent was a blur, the cityscape receding beneath me in an instant. I hurled the bags with immense force, sending them hurtling towards the stratosphere. They were mere specks in the distance when the explosion occurred, a brilliant, muted flash in the upper reaches of the atmosphere, far from the reach of those below.
The light from the explosion cast a transient, eerie glow across the sky, a silent testament to the catastrophe I had just averted. But there was no time to pause or reflect; I was already darting towards my next destination, Tagadis.
My passage was a streak of motion, the world around me resuming its normal pace as I left the suspended bubble of time behind. The entire sequence, from the retrieval of the crystals to the disposal in the stratosphere, had taken mere seconds - two seconds that had changed the course of the night, saving countless lives.
With the urgency of a tempest, I surged towards Tagadis, covering the 150 kilometers distance in about five seconds. The landscape below was a blur, a mere backdrop to my singular focus. Arriving there, I immediately extended my senses, searching for the familiar pulse of mana.
Like in Valor, I detected three sources of mana, each one a potential harbinger of destruction. I moved with a precision and speed that were almost mechanical, locating each of the bombs in turn. Unlike before, these crystals hadn't been activated yet. Three minutes between each explosion left me now with more than enough time to deal with this. With a calculated motion, I absorbed the raw mana from each crystal into my own mana core. The energy flowed into me, a torrent of power that was at once exhilarating and demanding, but I was more than capable of containing it. The crystals, now rendered harmless, fell to the ground, inert.
Without pause, I set my sights on Frobourg, the final location and the one I would find of Sotis Gaulon. The distance closed rapidly beneath me, but as I approached, a sinking realization dawned upon me. The final explosion had already begun. It seemed the terrorists, sensing their plan unraveling, had accelerated their timeline.
Time around me was still moving at a crawl, a juxtaposition of my lightning-fast reflexes and the slow-motion world.
As I descended upon Frobourg, the epicenter of the crisis, the situation was nothing short of apocalyptic. The explosion, a monstrous cascade of energy and destruction, was unfolding in what seemed like a grotesque ballet of slow motion. The air was thick with debris, fire, and a sense of impending doom.
Instantly, I cast an obstruction spell, a powerful enchantment that formed an invisible, impenetrable barrier around the source of the explosion. It was like dropping an immense dome over the chaos, containing the worst of the devastation, preventing the full force of the explosion from ripping through the neighborhood. The spell shimmered into existence, a barely visible distortion in the air, its force holding back the tide of destruction.
With the primary source of the explosion contained, I turned my attention to the already unleashed flare of the blast. Time seemed to slow even further, each second stretching out infinitely as I moved among the chaos.
The scene before me was a tableau of imminent tragedy - people caught in the path of destruction, unaware of what was unfolding. My actions were precise and calculated, each movement saving a life, preventing a catastrophe.
I darted towards a woman frozen in the act of shielding her child, the fireball inching ever closer. With a swift gesture, I cast a protective shield around them, a bubble of mana turned plasma that repelled the heat and force of the explosion.
Next, I spotted an elderly man, his expression one of resigned terror as debris hurtled towards him. In a blur, I was there, sweeping him into my arms and moving him to safety, far from the epicenter of the explosion.
Two teenagers, caught in the open, were next. I reached them just as a wave of searing heat approached. Extending my hands, I created a shield that enveloped them, the flames licking harmlessly at the magical barrier.
As I moved through the area, my actions were a whirlwind of intervention. A young couple, trapped under a collapsing wall, were freed with a spell that turned the rubble into harmless dust. A group of children, huddled together in fear, were enveloped in a protective sphere, shielded from the inferno that raged around them.
Everywhere I went, I left behind a trail of saves, each action another life spared from the jaws of death. In the midst of the devastation, my focus never wavered. Each decision, each spell cast, was a calculated effort to save as many lives as possible. I was the eye of the storm, a calm center in a whirlwind of chaos and destruction.
As the last of the immediate dangers were neutralized, and the echoes of the explosion began to fade, I took a moment to survey the scene
The aftermath of the explosion in Frobourg was a scene of desolation and pain. Despite my efforts to contain the majority of the blast, the neighborhood bore the scars of the attack. Buildings were charred and partially collapsed, their structures a testament to the violence they had endured. The air was heavy with the acrid smell of smoke and the haunting echoes of the explosion.
Among the debris and devastation, the life toll was heartbreakingly evident. Some bodies lay splattered, their ends gruesomely met by the unbridled force of the blast. Others, survivors of the initial explosion but not unscathed, screamed in agony, mourning their lost limbs and the sudden, irreversible change in their lives.
In the midst of this chaos, the people I had managed to save were in a state of shock, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief. They were trying to comprehend how they had escaped death, their minds grappling with the surrealness of their survival.
Among them, a young boy, his face etched with a dawning realization, held tightly to his sister. His eyes sought me out, filled with a mix of awe and gratitude. He took tentative steps towards me, his mouth opening as if to speak or thank me. But before he could reach me, I vanished from the scene like a phantom, my duty calling me elsewhere.
My senses had picked up the resonance of a few mages – distinct, powerful auras that could only belong to trained mages, their resonance corresponding to that of the spell casted for the bombs. In a city filled with magic, these were signatures that stood out, clear and unmistakable. It led me to the museum, a place rich with history and now, potentially, a stage for the final act of this night's drama.
Sotis Gaulon was the key to unraveling and stopping this madness, and I was resolute in my pursuit. As I arrived at the museum, the sight before me was one of deliberate escape. Eight full-fledged mages, three humans, a leprechaun, a lion theranborn, two elves, and an orc, their auras pulsating with intent, were hastily making their way out. One of them, a man with a grim determination in his eyes, turned to me and said, "Damn, Oi! You have seen nothing, you hear me? Get the fuck out and mind your business if you don't want any trouble!"
I stood motionless, an island of calm amidst the brewing storm. My eyes scanned each mage methodically, searching for the one who could be Sotis Gaulon, it was one of the elves. "Oi! Can't you hear me? Shit, I'll show you then, you brought this on your damn self!" The shouting man, mistaking my stillness for vulnerability, began to cast a powerful wind spell. But before he could even complete his incantation, I acted.
With a flick of my backhand, I struck him with such force that half of his head was obliterated, his brains and bodily fluids spraying in a grotesque arc. His body crumpled to the ground, a lifeless heap. "Pete!" one of the mages cried out in shock, the reality of their situation dawning on them.
One mage, realization etching his face with fear, stuttered, "Oh no. W-wait, this is bad, that's Vanheim! The Tredor Vanheim! We have to run!" But it was already too late.
I advanced, my movements precise and deadly. Each mage that stood against me met a swift, brutal end. One by one, I caught them, nullifying their spells and shattering their shields as if they were made of glass. They were experienced mages, yet against me, they seemed like novices.
One tried to flee, only to find me instantly blocking his path. With a single punch, I tore a gaping hole in his chest. Another mage, in a desperate attempt, swung a sword at me, but I caught the blade with my bare hand, snapping it like a twig before decapitating him with a swift, clean motion.
A third mage managed to cast a lightning spell at me. The electricity crackled around me, an angry swarm of energy, but it had no effect. I simply walked through it, unscathed, and grabbed him by the throat, incinerating him from the inside out with a surge of my own mana.
With each death, I asked, "Who among you is Sotis?" But the answers never came, only the gurgles and gasps of the dying.
The last two mages, both elves, were a pitiful sight. One was paralyzed with fear, a growing dark stain on his pants, silent and trembling. The other was a stark contrast, weeping uncontrollably, his pleas for mercy filling the air with a desperate, pathetic quality.
When my question hung unanswered in the air, I amplified my voice with magic, letting the power of my being resonate through the hall. "Who?!" The word boomed like thunder, reverberating off the walls.
The crying man, in his panic and despair, pointed a trembling finger towards his silent companion. It was all the confirmation I needed.
Without a second thought, I dispatched the crier with a single, devastating kick. His body crumpled like a rag doll, squashed effortlessly as if he were nothing more than an insect.
I then turned to the remaining mage, Sotis Gaulon, the orchestrator of the night's horrors. Grabbing him by the hair, I pulled him up to face me. His eyes were wide with shock, his body trembling uncontrollably, his pants filled with his own body waste.
His eyes were pleading for mercy. "Sotis Gaulon, outlaw, fallen mage, terrorist. I presume you know what awaits you now?" I asked, my voice devoid of emotion.