Zuka stood among the ruins of what was once the Duke's magnificent estate, now reduced to nothing more than a skeletal husk of its former grandeur. The battle between Noir and the Duke raged overhead, their power shaking the very air around them, but Zuka was not concerned. He knew his brother could handle the situation. His focus now was on something else entirely—finding Elyndris, and perhaps uncovering the truth behind what was really happening in this forsaken place.
His sharp eyes scanned the rubble, recalling the exact location where the soldiers had taken the high elf. But now, that place was nothing more than broken stones and dirt. There was no trace of an entrance, no hint of the chambers he had seen them disappear into. The ground looked as dead as the memories of this once-grand estate.
"Underground?" Zuka muttered to himself, instincts stirring.
Dropping to one knee, he pressed his hand to the earth, his senses extending outwards. There was something there—faint and hidden, but unmistakable. A presence below, veiled by powerful magic. His face darkened with concentration. Elyndris had been taken beneath the surface, but the entrance was buried beneath layers of arcane concealment, likely warded against detection. His usual sharp senses weren't enough to find the hidden passage.
"Eye of the Fallen Aristocrat," Zuka whispered, activating his unique ability.
His right eye flickered with an eerie glow, and the world around him shifted into a landscape of color and light. Every presence, every source of magic, appeared as shimmering auras painted across his vision. He scanned the ground, searching for the one signature he knew would stand out—the distinct ethereal green hue aura of a high elf. After a moment of scanning, he spotted it, faint but present, buried beneath layers of black, ancient magic.
There he was, deep underground. The problem wasn't locating him—it was reaching him.
"No door," Zuka muttered, glancing around at the debris. The spatial magic surrounding Elyndris was thick, like a shroud, concealing the entrance to another dimension. There was no physical way in. He'd have to be precise, using what little mana signature he could detect from Elyndris to pull himself through.
"Light Magic: Grasp Mana Teleportation," he chanted, focusing his energy on the thin line of Elyndris' mana.
In a burst of light, Zuka vanished from the surface, instantly transported to the dark chamber below.
The shift in atmosphere was immediate and overwhelming. The air here was stifling, choked with the scent of old blood and the cold presence of black magic. Zuka's boots landed with a hollow thud against the cold stone floor. Dimly lit by scattered torches, the chamber was oppressive, the walls lined with alchemical tools, strange runes, and ancient texts. It was clear this place wasn't just for imprisonment—it was for something far more sinister. This was a place of experimentation, where bodies and souls were twisted for cruel purposes.
Zuka's gaze sharpened as he took in the sight before him.
Elyndris hung limp against the far wall, each of his limbs bound by thick, enchanted chains glowing with sickly green light. His once vibrant aura was dim, flickering like a dying flame. His mana had been drained almost completely, leaving him on the brink of total depletion.
"Weakened… no, drained," Zuka whispered grimly, moving closer. "It's as if his mana doesn't even exist anymore."
Zuka's eyes locked onto the chains, studying the intricate runes etched into the metal. These weren't just ordinary restraints—they were designed specifically to suppress powerful beings like Elyndris, siphoning his mana bit by bit. The high elf's breathing was shallow, his chest rising and falling weakly as his life force ebbed away.
"Elyndris, wake up," Zuka said firmly, his voice cutting through the silence of the chamber.
Elyndris stirred, his eyelids fluttering open, but his voice was faint, barely more than a rasp. "I-It's… a trap… leave…"
Zuka frowned, barely able to hear the elf's warning. But something about his words sent a cold realization through Zuka's mind. If Elyndris' power had been drained, then what aura had brought him here? What had allowed him to teleport so easily?
The answer revealed itself before he could think further.
"Watching you struggle is quite amusing," a deep, gravelly voice echoed from the shadows, its tone thick with dark amusement.
Zuka's body tensed, his eyes snapping toward the sound. Emerging from the darkness was a figure, tall and broad, although shorter than Zuka. His muscular frame was draped in black and crimson robes, his entire skin adorned with blood-red markings that pulsed faintly with power. His presence was suffocating, filling the room with an aura of raw, oppressive force.
"And who might you be?" Zuka asked, his voice calm but edged with wariness.
The man gave a cold, humorless smile. "I suppose introductions are in order before you die. I am Segun, the Ironblooded Warlock, Ogun's Cursed Right Hand. And who, may I ask, are you?"
Zuka's eyes narrowed in recognition, the weight of the title not lost on him. "If you bear the title of Ogun, you must have made a pact with the ancient god of iron… or perhaps one of his descendants," Zuka said, intrigued despite the danger.
Segun's smile widened, clearly impressed by Zuka's knowledge. "You are wise, Dragonoid. Few would know such things outside my land."
Zuka gave a curt nod, his expression remaining calm. "You must be one of the Ancient Ones of Naij that worship the Orisha's. It is an honor to meet one in person. I am Zuka Kogetsu, Prince of the Dragonoid Nation."
For a brief moment, silence stretched between them, a mutual acknowledgment of the power each possessed.
Then, in the blink of an eye, Segun attacked.
He moved with surprising speed for his size, materializing a massive iron sword from thin air and swinging it with enough force to split the stone floor. But Zuka was quicker. His hand shot up, blocking the blade with his forearm, sparks flying as iron clashed with draconic scales. Without missing a beat, Zuka countered, driving his fist into Segun's gut, light magic igniting around his knuckles as the blow sent the warlock skidding backward across the chamber.
Segun straightened, unfazed, his grin now wide and feral. Without hesitation, he bit into his thumb, drawing blood, and began tracing a glowing sigil in the air with it. The blood shimmered, floating in the air like ink suspended on invisible parchment.
"MO PE ORUKOR ORISHA, JE KI EJE MI SAN KI O SI PA OTA MI RUN!" Segun roared, his voice vibrating with ancient power as the incantation completed.
Zuka moved to stop him, his body a blur of motion as he launched a powerful kick toward Segun's head. But before the strike could connect, an iron staff materialized from the ether, intercepting the blow. The spell was finished.
Blood from Segun's thumb began to flow freely, swirling around him like liquid iron, shaping itself into a massive crimson wave. With a roar, Segun directed the blood toward Zuka, who found himself unable to dodge in time.
At that moment, a voice cut through the chaos. "Darkness: Protect thee who stands face to face with danger."
Suddenly, a protective sphere of pure darkness enveloped Zuka, shielding him from Segun's deadly attack. The blood magic slammed into the dark barrier, hissing as it evaporated on contact, unable to pierce through the shadows.
Zuka blinked in surprise, looking up just as the dark barrier faded.
Kiaren stepped from the shadows, his expression smug, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're welcome," he said casually.
Zuka wasted no time. In a flash, he teleported above Segun, his body glowing with radiant energy. "Light: Consume thee who brings danger!" he bellowed, bringing his fist down with the force of a star.
Segun materialized an iron shield to block the attack, but Zuka's power shattered it instantly. The blow struck Segun directly, sending him crashing into the ground with enough force to create a small crater. The warlock lay unconscious in the dirt, his body battered and limp.
Kiaren approached, his hand crackling with dark energy. "Shall I finish him, my lord?" he asked, his tone detached and cold.
Zuka shook his head, his gaze lingering on Segun's fallen form. "No. He may be useful later. Restrain him and keep an eye on him. I have other matters to deal with."
Kiaren gave a short bow, moving to bind the warlock. "Will you be alright on your own?" he asked, a rare note of concern in his voice.
Zuka smiled faintly. "Don't worry about me." He turned to leave, pausing for a moment. "And… thank you for the save back there."
With that, Zuka disappeared into the shadows, his mind already focused on the next move.