As the man settled back in his previous position, a sudden shift in air caught his attention. His eyes, which were calmed before, instantly became sharp, and a chill appeared on his silent face. He was already alert to the uninvited presence, and believe him, he didn't like it even an inch.
His burrows furrowed as he contemplated what to do with this uninvited presence, but without wasting a second, a dark mist shot out from his fingers. It was an ominous sight, as the dark mist was snaking through the air like it had its own mind.
The mist moved with precision, like he knew the position of its victim, and it was ready to engulf whatever dared to come in his way. As the mist was about to strike his victim, a presence revealed himself.
A figure dropped to his knees and instantly bowed low towards the man in submission. He said with a trembling voice; fear was evident in his voice. "It is me, Vyrion, my Lord."
The man's eyes narrowed as he regarded the kneeling figure before him.
Vyrion's face had become pale with fear; his expression became twisted as he stared at the dark mist hovering inches away from his face. He knew all too well what this mist would do to him, as he could not be more familiar with his Lord's power. And he knew all too well that he had angered his master, and he can only hope that his punishment can be lightened.
But the mist disappears in the air as it just appears. And Vyrion's breathed a sigh of relief.
Even after the disappearance of mist, the tension in the air remained thick and suffocating. Vyrion nervously gulped as he stared at the direction of his master.
As the man's deep voice but slightly angry filled the space. Vyrion felt the air from his lungs knock out. But the voice has a bewitching quality, capable of luring even the most resolute person to submission.
"Vyrion," the man continued with his low and dangerous tone, "I don't like being disturbed. Those who dare to interrupt me... are already rotting in the depths of hell."
Vyrion shuddered at the words of his master, his body trembling as he remained prostrated before his master. He had narrowly escaped a fate worse than death, but the lingering fear in his heart was a reminder that his life was still hanging by a thread.
Vyrion's knees dug into the damp earth as he kept his gaze fixed on the ground, his entire body trembling with fear. He dared not to look up, not when his master's presence was so overwhelming, not when he could feel the raw power emanating from him like a smothering cloak.
But still he spoke, "You have not appeared, master," his voice quivering slightly despite his best efforts to remain composed. "There is unrest in the realm because of your absence. The others... they are beginning to grow bold. That's why I had to seek you."
The man on the rock was still half-submerged in the lake, and he opened his eyes slowly, the dark mist that had nearly consumed Vyrion retreating into the shadows. His expression was unreadable, but there was a palpable tension in the air, a sense that something terrible could happen at any moment.
"If you can't even handle them, Vyrion," the man said with a cold voice that was laced with disappointment. "Then what use are you to me?"
Vyrion shuddered at the words, his fear deepening. But he kept his head bowed, his loyalty unwavering despite the harshness of his master's rebuke. "Master," he still said with a voice barely above whisper, "the Demon King... he has returned."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The master's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening as the words sunk in. "What did you say?" he asked with his dangerously low tone.
Vyrion swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. "The Demon King, my Lord. He has come back, and he is making things difficult for everyone. His power is unlike anything we have faced before. That is why I sought you, master. Only you can stop him."
For a long moment, the master said nothing, his gaze distant as he considered Vyrion's words. Then, slowly, that wicked smile returned to his lips—a smile that promised chaos and destruction.
"If the Demon King has returned," he murmured, almost to himself, "then it's time for him to be reminded of his place."
Vyrion remained silent, his eyes still cast down, waiting for his master's command. He knew that the master was not one to be trifled with and that whoever dared challenge him, even the Demon King, would soon regret it.
"Very well," the master finally said, his voice filled with dark resolve. "Let them become bold. Let them taste a fragment of my power. And as for the Demon King..." He paused, his smile growing even more sinister. "He will learn that there is only one true master in this world, and it is not him."
Vyrion bowed his head even lower, feeling both relieved and terrified by his master's words. He knew that a storm was coming—a storm that would sweep through the realm and leave nothing but devastation in its wake. But at least now he had his master's attention. And that, he hoped, would be enough to save them all from that psycho demon king.
Vyrion looked at his master with a pounding heart. He watched as his master rose from the water; the water rippled as he stood up from it. The air seemed to grow cold as his master stepped out from the lake, and the very shadow seemed to gather around his master's form as if it were drawn by his malevolent aura.
With every step of his master, the air around them starts to become colder, and the presence of his power presses heavily on Vyrion. It made him difficult to breathe. He knew his master was angry being disturbed like this. But he has no other option. The demon king was making chaos on purpose to summon his master, and if he didn't summon him back, he would make things difficult for them.