"So, let me understand this correctly," said the voice, trembling with an unimaginable degree of anger in the moonlit room. "You not only came to end my life, but you also had the audacity to kill all my citizens." The speaker was a gentleman seated at a table, surrounded by documents. His rugged expression revealed his advanced age, and his long white hair faintly glimmered in the moonlight. His eyes, a brilliant royal blue with specks of deep black, bore into the intruders.
"All of you from Haze Phantom need a lesson in respecting other people's domains," the old man continued, rising from his seat. His eyes glowed more violently as his mystic pressure intensified, making it difficult for the four uninvited guests to breathe. Desperate, they activated silver lion signet rings on their right hands, providing some relief from the oppressive force.
The four intruders, still reeling from their encounter with the old man, wasted no time. They dashed toward the nearest large pane window on the right side of the moonlit room, shattering the glass as they escaped. Outside, they heard a deafening explosion, and the air quaked with force. Activating yet another magic tool a Wing ear cuff on their left ear they gained the ability to fly.
As they hovered, catching their breath, an imposing figure emerged into view. The old man, his long white hair glinting in the moonlight, stepped forward with a stoic expression. The full moon illuminated his face, revealing the lines etched by years of wisdom and determination.
"I've sensed this impending danger for weeks," the king declared. "It all began when I rejected the Benedictus family's request for the Mystealith Mine. My concerns were not mere paranoia; they were valid. Now, you from Haze Phantom will learn the consequences of trespassing in my domain."
The room's once sturdy wall, now reduced to rubble, revealed the moonlit expanse beyond. Crumbling rocks and shards of glass fell to the ground, creating a chaotic scene. Amidst the destruction stood the King, resplendent in his royal attire. Golden shoulder pads adorned his dark uniform, and a white sash with a golden lining crossed his chest. In his hand, he held a regal blue robe, its fur collar a striking white. A delicate golden chain connected both sides of the robe.
The King's unwavering gaze remained fixed on the intruders. With deliberate movements, he unclasped the chain, draping the robe over his shoulders. The golden links snapped back into place, securing the garment. Then, raising his right hand, palm upward, he conjured water droplets. They swirled at a dizzying speed, coalescing into a shimmering sphere a testament to his formidable power.
The tension in the moonlit area intensified. The uninvited guests, still hovering outside, exchanged nervous glances. They had trespassed into a domain far more dangerous than they could have imagined.
King Sevar, though formidable, could still be deceived. The assassin's words hung in the air, revealing their true purpose: to prevent his interference in the annihilation of the populace. King Sevar's eyes widened with realization, then narrowed in rage. The water sphere he had conjured dissipated, leaving only malevolence etched across his face. He burst into laughter, the sound chilling.
"So, that was your goal all along," King Sevar sneered, raising his right hand. "No wonder I couldn't sense anything." His fingers brushed a golden dragon signet ring, which promptly glowed a dark purple. Intricately detailed skull and bone hand ring bracelets adorned both his hands, each skull embedded with thinly cut black jewels.
The assassins, now genuinely fearful, backed away. One managed to speak, "His sovereign artifacts respond to the domain of the dead." He prepared to cast a spell, but the distance between them and the enraged king grew wider.
The assassin's panic was palpable. "But that doesn't seem right," he stammered. "Until now, only Mystic Warlocks could do that. Since when could maguses access such power ?"
King Sevar's eyes blazed with power. His mystical pressure surged, and the air seemed to tremble. "You lot may be masters of intelligence gathering and assassination," he retorted, "but even you cannot know something that no one else does."
With a thunderous cry, King Sevar invoked a command: "Necrodominion." His voice resonated through the castle, reaching every corner of the small island nation. The air thickened as a deathly aura enveloped him.
And then it began the impossible. Citizens across the island stirred from their slumber, compelled by an unseen force. They rose, their eyes vacant, and began their inexorable march toward the castle. Their loyalty to their king transcended life and death.
The fate of the assassins hung in the balance as the tide of the undead surged forth, answering their sovereign's call.
The assassin's confusion was warranted such magic defied conventional understanding. There was no known magus lineage capable of commanding the dead, let alone an entire island nation's worth of people. Yet here they were, witnessing the impossible: corpses given a new lease on life, marching toward the castle.
As five more assassins arrived, their frustration echoed through the air. "What the hell is happening?" one of them demanded. "You had one job to wipe out the castle denizens and incapacitate the king. Why is he standing, healthy, and wielding an active sovereign piece?"
The answer lay in King Sevar's arsenal of mystical tools and abilities. His power transcended the reports the assassins had received. Before anyone could protest further, the king formed the water sphere once more, uttering the command "Stars Edge." The liquid transformed into a four-pointed star, slicing through an assassin who dared to defend himself.
The assassin's desperately commanded "Glacial Typhoon" unleashed violent winds, shards of ice tearing through the castle's left wing. As the tempest subsided, a massive frozen sphere stood in its wake. Frustration echoed among the assassins they realized this battle wouldn't be straightforward.
But then, a cracking sound pierced the air. The frozen sphere fractured, revealing a towering pillar of water. At its pinnacle stood King Sevar, disdain etched on his face. King Sevar then commanded his water sphere to transform into "Aqua Blades" thin crescent moons that sliced through the group. All but one evaded, who lost his head to a hidden blade as a consequence.
The assassins, now a determined circle around King Sevar, heeded the call for offense. Their mana reserves were no longer a concern survival was all that mattered.
King Sevar's face contorted with grief and rage. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he spoke of his people the innocent victims of a greedy family. His voice shook with resolve as he invoked a mystic pledge to the Great Overseer of Oaths, Draethan. "I will exchange my remaining lifeforce for the replenishment of my mana," he vowed, eyes blazing.
Above him, a radiant white silhouette materialized a winged tiger with the symbol of the Triquetra on its forehead. Its ear-piercing roar echoed through the surroundings, and the sovereign's mana surged. The tiger dissipated, leaving a crazed expression on King Sevar's face an indomitable force ready to exact vengeance.
The tension hung thick in the air as both sides surged their mana, creating an oppressive atmosphere. Even the zombified citizens found it difficult to move under the weight of this magical intensity. The group of assassins and King Sevar faced each other in the dead of night, illuminated by the radiant full moon. Hours seemed to stretch into eternity.
But then, as if reaching the limits of his lifeforce, King Sevar descended rapidly toward the castle. His feet touched the ground without hesitation, and he dashed toward a door leading to the passageway. The assassins exchanged confused glances but wasted no time they followed, chasing after the king.
The narrow passageway echoed with the sound of boots clacking on the ground. King Sevar's long white hair and billowing blue royal robe were the only visible signs of his presence as he sprinted ahead. Each window he passed revealed a fleeting glimpse of his fleeing form.
The assassin leading the pursuit shouted for him to surrender, promising his demise to be quick. But King Sevar had other plans. With a fierce cry, he invoked "Torrential Path." The attack, amplified by the confined space, unleashed a torrent of water at breakneck speeds. Those without sufficient mana to defend themselves were swept away, leaving only three maguses alive.
The king's desperate flight led him to an open area, flanked by two doors one on his left and the other on his right. Zombified citizens, eerily determined, shuffled toward the door on the left. The king quickened his pace, but fate intervened, and a sharp, cone-shaped rock impaled him. Spitting blood, he uttered the command "Corpse Blast." The nearest corpses exploded, forcing the attackers to shield themselves with mana. As the dust settled, the iron door creaked shut, sealing the king's fate.
The battle's aftermath left the room littered with corpses, their lifeless bodies a chilling reminder of the fight. The iron doors were locked tight, cutting off any path to escape. Exhausted and unsettled, the remaining assassins retreated to a quieter part of the castle, away from the undead. Once there, their thoughts turned to the disturbing scene they had witnessed the king's unnatural power over the dead.
One of the assassins questioned this unprecedented power. "I don't know of any magus element that can control the dead, let alone to such magnitude," he mused. The other responded, citing the report that identified King Sevar's primary control element as water, with a secondary dark element. It seemed the dark aspect was responsible for the eerie reanimation they had witnessed.
Their discussion was interrupted when the third assassin returned, carrying a water-droplet-shaped lamp. Its pale blue flame flickered, and the two assassins exchanged glances. The lamp represented King Sevar's life force. The flame's persistence indicated he was still alive, but its gradual dimming confirmed his imminent end.
After a time the flame had gone out signaling the king`s death, however suddenly, explosions rocked the castle. The corpses that hadn't made it to the vault room were self-destructing. The assassins braced themselves, ready for whatever followed. Eventually, the chaos subsided, and the castle settled.
Relieved, one of the men remarked, "I'm glad the target is dead. Prolonging this confrontation wouldn't have been advantageous." They turned to the assassin who found the lamp, questioning its location. The answer revealed an unexpected twist: King Sevar had not one but two Vault rooms. The mystery deepened perhaps the sovereign pieces lay hidden in the room where he had locked himself away.
"Wait a minute," one of the assassins exclaimed, in a worried voice. "If we can't carry at least one trophy from this hunt, we won't be able to appease the guild master."
Another assassin stepped forward. "I'll call the guild master and clarify our situation." He produced a rectangular, clear crystal, infused it with mana, and watched as it glowed in multiple colors before settling into a magenta hue. The crystal connected him to the other line.
"What is it?" a voice responded from the crystal.
"We completed the task," the assassin explained, "but the target locked himself and the sovereign pieces behind a Thalictra vault. We can't enter."
A long pause followed. Then the voice on the other line spoke again. "Alright, good job. Get out of there. You've been there all night, and early morning isn't far away. Leave the island."
As the crystal turned clear, the group exchanged glances. Retrieving their fallen comrades' corpses and equipment, they began their journey off the island.