As he tried to catch the shadowy figure, it vanished into thin air. Amidst the uncanny scenery, Levon slowed down and forecasted how it would be the first time he lost sight of his prey. With a heavy stomp, he touched the ground beneath and reached the place with a careful awareness, landing at the exact spot where he had last spotted the figure. But there were no traces on the ground to be found, not even scratches.
The broken beams and roofs of the abandoned district loomed over Levon while the dimly lit dark sky allowed the nighty creatures to flicker in his path. He was set in motion and darted across the rubble in a swift and silent manner while slaughtering most of the uncanny presence out there with mere fists and kicks. Levon crouched low, pausing above the slanted rooftop with ears open for any noise. He could hear the wind whistling through the ruins and showing it's urge to threaten him, but nothing more.
In a state of increasing frustration, Levon dropped to the ground and ran his fingers over the rubble and dirt beneath him. An impression of faint footsteps caught his eye, but it faded too quickly as if the figure had vanished in the middle of a step.
In a desperate attempt of the failing pride, Levon focused his gaze deep down the ruined district and began to search the abandoned doorways and broken windows. From the collapsing tower, he searched for traces of his target on the street and in the remnants of the thresholds if broken visages, but there were none.
"Where are you, bitch?" he muttered with anger under his breath.
Levon's patience was clearly wearing thin, so much so that he stopped in the middle of the wrecked area and felt the unidentified presence slipping by as time went by.
There was no way other than pulling his trump card as his last resort. With a little unease in his face, Levon prodded behind his back and loosed his two bright red blood thirsty swords draped in fabric that had ancient Japanese letters and historic engravings on them. He plunged them into the earth with brute force with their hilts pulsating along with his.
The full incantation began. "Genso Atsukaijutsu," Levon said, voice low and commanding. He slammed his fist on the ground beneath him and roared, "Ima shikō sa seyo! ("Now begin the process!")
The earth quaked for a few seconds. Spinning like dancers, intricate paths intertwining in a shape resembling a halo surrounded the swords. The inescapable pattern repeated outward from where it could no longer be perceived, merging with the horizon.
The bushes and plants outta there started to wither and the land beneath him fissured along with the air in the circle bending to Levon's will and swirling towards the swords and devoured by them. A deadening, stifling emptiness coalesced. Levons breath came steady, the fatigue magical drain was intense and brief but Levon mastered it years ago during the early phases of his harsh training. The figure, however, writhed violently.
The intended target however was able to realize the trap and tried to escape, however it was hopeless as the boundary was unpenetratable and the domain was sealed from within. To which, they realized the cruel truth: once something has entered in here, it cannot leave until the trial or power expires.
A cloaked figure appeared, gasping and shaking. Oxygen was used as a weapon, making him lurch forward. His body contorting in savage pain as Levon's enemies never knew mercy.
He searched methodically, approaching the lifeless body. A magical cloak, a staff, a rugged bag — and, then, the curious artifact. I found myself holding in my hands a little glass jar, not much bigger than my fingers, filled with a bluish liquid sloshing about like it was boiling, bubbling in opposition to the cold air.
At last there was nothing I could do but take it with me and until I find its true purpose, I have to keep it safe.