In the town below, the shockwave had reached them with force, rattling windows and shaking buildings.
People stumbled out into the streets, their faces pale with fear. The ground still trembled slightly under their feet, an aftershock of the cataclysm that had just taken place.
The distant roar of the explosion had been terrifying, but the laughter that followed chilled them to the bone.
"What was that?!" a man gasped, his eyes wide with terror.
"Something's happened up in the mountains," a woman whispered, clutching her child tightly as she stared up at the distant peak, where the dark cloud still lingered ominously.
"Did you hear that laugh? It was... it was like something out of a nightmare," another villager muttered, looking around nervously as if expecting some horror to descend upon them at any moment.
"We need to get out of here!" someone shouted, panic beginning to spread through the crowd.
Mize's laughter continued to echo faintly in the distance, a dark melody that seemed to seep into the very bones of the townspeople.
It was a sound that would haunt their nightmares for years to come, a reminder that something far beyond their understanding had entered their world.
The town fell into an uneasy silence, the air thick with fear and apprehension.
Mize, hovering above the smoldering crater, looked down at his handiwork with satisfaction. "Now... that was an entrance," he muttered, his voice carrying through the still air.
He turned his gaze towards the distant city, a dark smile playing on his lips as he contemplated his next move.
"For the next scene, how about a new savior for the human race"
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Fifteen minutes ago, in the heart of Graze City, within the imposing walls of the City Lord's office...
The heavy wooden door, reinforced with iron and etched with intricate carvings of ancient battles, swung open with a quiet creak.
The camera's focus tightened, zooming in as a graceful figure entered the room, his presence both commanding and serene.
He was dressed in a flowing robe of deep green, the fabric shimmering slightly as it caught the light filtering through the tall, arched windows.
The robe was embroidered with delicate patterns that resembled winding vines and blooming flowers, symbols of growth and knowledge.
The man's hair was a striking shade of green, matching the hue of his robes. It was long and silky, tied back neatly, falling just below his shoulders.
His face was smooth and fair, with high cheekbones and sharp, intelligent eyes that glimmered with the wisdom of a scholar. His complexion was pale, almost ethereal, as though he spent more time with books and scrolls than in the sun.
His lips were thin but curved into a subtle smile, exuding an aura of calm and assurance. Every step he took was measured, his movements almost too graceful for someone of mere mortal lineage.
As the camera followed behind him, the room's grandeur began to unfold. The walls were lined with trophies of the hunt, relics of past victories that spoke of power and dominance over nature.
Enormous skulls of mythical beasts were mounted with precision, each one more fearsome than the last.
Their hollow eye sockets seemed to watch the room, a silent reminder of the strength required to defeat them.
Swords, spears, and axes of various shapes and sizes were displayed on ornate racks, each weapon a masterpiece in its own right, forged by the finest craftsmen and stained with the blood of countless foes.
The floor was made of polished stone, dark and cool, with an intricate mosaic at its center depicting a fierce battle between men and monsters.
The ceiling was high, adorned with heavy wooden beams, from which hung iron chandeliers that cast a warm, flickering glow across the room.
Despite the ferocity of the decorations, the space felt organized, almost peaceful—a place where raw power met disciplined control.
The camera panned around the room, taking in the rich history embedded within these walls, before finally settling back on the green-robed man.
He approached the massive, mahogany desk at the far end of the room, his steps silent on the cold stone. As he arrived at the desk, he paused for a moment, his scholarly gaze briefly scanning the papers strewn across its surface.
Then, in a fluid motion, he stepped aside, revealing the figure seated behind the desk. The focus shifted, bringing the man into full view—a stark contrast to the delicate elegance of the one who had entered.
The man behind the desk was a mountain of a figure, his presence exuding raw power. He stood, or rather, sat at an imposing height of over 7'5", his broad shoulders and thick, muscular frame making the large chair seem almost too small for him.
His hair was as black as the night, cropped short but wild, giving him an air of untamed strength. A thick mustache, equally dark, framed his stern mouth, twitching slightly as he focused on the documents before him.
His skin was bronzed from years under the sun, a testament to his hands-on approach to leadership.
But it was his eyes that truly commanded attention—dark blue and intense, like the depths of the ocean, filled with a kindness that belied his fierce appearance.
There was calm wisdom in those eyes, tempered by readiness for battle as if he could switch from a caring protector to a ruthless warrior in the blink of an eye.
This was Lord Baelor Stormrune, a name that resonated with the people of Graze City as a beacon of power, kindness, and unmatched ferocity when the need arose.
His large, calloused hands, capable of crushing skulls or wielding the heaviest of weapons, now delicately moved papers across the desk, reviewing reports and plans with the same intensity he would bring to the battlefield.
Lord Baelor finally looked up from his work, his gaze meeting the green-robed man's. A brief nod passed between them—an acknowledgment of mutual respect, of the balance between the scholar and the warrior.
"Saer," Baelor nodded, shifting a parchment from the stack on his desk and placing it at the forefront. His other hand tapped the table rhythmically, a gesture that betrayed the depth of his thoughts as his eyes met Saer's.
"Your work is meticulous and quite brilliant. I never imagined there could be a way to manage the city's affairs this efficiently."
Hearing the praise, the gentleman in green, Saer, placed a hand over his chest in a humble gesture.
"You flatter me, Lord Baelor," he replied. "The many years of my studies at the Capital Academy have proven fruitful with some light skills. I am merely sharing what I believe is necessary for the people."
Lord Baelor's stern expression softened into a kind smile. Rising from his seat, he moved to the shelves on the side of the room, his hand brushing across the spines of numerous books before selecting one.
He gestured toward the chair in front of the desk, "Why don't you have a seat for a bit? This process of approval will take a while."
"I suppose so, Lord Baelor," Saer agreed, settling into the guest chair at the table. As he leaned back, his eyes wandered around the room, taking in the array of relics and trophies displayed with curiosity.
"There's quite a collection in this room. Lord Baelor must be quite the warrior to have gathered all these ferocious relics from what they were when they were alive."
Baelor let out a hearty laugh, the sound resonating through the room like a rumble of thunder. "Hahaha, you flatter me, young man," he chuckled, his powerful voice filling the space.
The city lord then grasped a particular book from the shelf, its cover adorned with a blue hue and white stripes on each corner.
The title, "Magic Spell: Amidas," was etched in gold, the letters glowing faintly in the dim light.
As Baelor returned to the desk with the book in hand, his presence seemed to fill the room even more, his towering figure an embodiment of the balance between raw power and disciplined wisdom.
Saer watched with quiet admiration, aware that despite the city lord's burly, imposing appearance, there was a sharp mind behind those dark blue eyes.
Sitting back in his chair, Baelor slid the book across the desk, a warm smile on his face. "A reward as promised for the task," he said, his voice resonating with gratitude and respect. "Thank you for your service, young man."
As the book came to rest in front of him, Saer didn't immediately reach for it. Instead, he responded with a tone of respectful humility, his words measured and sincere. "It is simply my heartfelt effort to do so, Lord Baelor."
Baelor's laughter echoed through the room, a sound both hearty and genuine. "Humble and yet promising," he remarked, his deep blue eyes twinkling with approval. "For a Tier 1 mage such as yourself to possess such traits—especially one who hails from the capital—I do not doubt that you will go far in your journey of knowledge seeking."
"I believe so, Lord Baelor," Saer replied, his smile reflecting both modesty and quiet confidence. He reached out and grasped the cover of the book with his fingers, feeling the cool, textured surface under his touch. As he did so, he adjusted his glasses, pushing them slightly up the bridge of his nose, a gesture that seemed to center his thoughts.
"I must also thank you for this opportunity, Lord Baelor," Saer continued, his voice thoughtful as he turned his gaze to the book.
"Spells like this are rare to come by nowadays. It is, in essence, a cornerstone for a mage like me to possess. This will be invaluable in my studies and growth."
Baelor nodded, pleased with Saer's appreciation and understanding of the gift.
"Use it wisely, Saer," he advised. "Knowledge is the foundation of power, but it is the wisdom to use it that truly sets one apart. I look forward to seeing how you will build upon what you have learned."
"Thank you for the advice, Lord Baelor," Saer said with a respectful nod, his gratitude evident in his expression.
He carefully clasped the book and tucked it deep into his robes, securing it close as if it were a precious treasure.
However, curiosity still lingered, and after a brief pause, he ventured a question.
"Alas, I am quite curious—just how vast is the gap between the Tier 3 and Tier 4 realms? Rumor has it that Lord Baelor is at the peak of Tier 3, just an inch away from the legendary realm of Tier 4, the King's Land realm."