After Dragun arrived in Vishirk's room, he was greeted by a scene that made his eyes widen at once. Though he had ventured into countless rooms under tense circumstances, this unassuming space carried an unsettling weight that sent a faint chill through his body.
The room was dark as usual, the only source of illumination being a floating, glowing crystal that circled the space, casting thin arcs of light across every corner. The gentle hum of its magical energy felt oddly ominous, as if warning him to tread carefully.
The chamber itself wasn't that big and wasn't that small either. At this moment, two figures stood inside—or at least that was what Dragun thought he saw in the shifting shadows.
One had short white hair and a perpetually grumpy expression on his face. He was adorned in a dark magic robe that burned with a fierce, swirling dark aura—he was no other than the youngest of the dark brothers, Xandros!
