As Ryen struggled to stand, he felt a surge within him, deep and primal. His vision sharpened, and his eyes began to glow, his hands radiating a faint, blue aura. Summoning this newfound strength, he punched the air in front of him, sending a shockwave that broke one of the Prowler's legs. The beast tried to limp away, but Ryen, focusing energy into his legs, leapt in front of it. With one final blow, his fist struck, burning the Prowler's fur and killing it instantly.
Breathing heavily, Ryen hoisted the creature onto his shoulder. Adrenaline fueled him as he dashed back to the car in a single leap, dropping the Prowler's body beside Regin and Alastair. Regin raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Your speed… it's remarkable."
Ryen managed a weary smile before his vision faded, and he passed out.
Regin watched Ryen with a sigh. "Well, I think it's safe to say he'll be a force to reckon with. That speed… he rivaled even Elara's."
Alastair's face showed his astonishment. "How did he manage it?"
"It was instinct," Regin replied thoughtfully. "In the heat of battle, he tapped into something buried deep within him. He might not be able to replicate it consciously yet, but he'll get there." With gentle care, Alastair helped Ryen into the car, while Regin gave instructions to a waiting servant. "Take this Prowler to Kaelith—tell him to forge it into something worthy."
The servant bowed. "Yes, Master."
Suddenly, Regin's gaze snapped toward a nearby tree, his expression sharp as he shattered a tree branch with a flick of his wrist. Alastair turned in confusion. "What was that?"
"Just a feeling," Regin murmured, scanning the shadows. "It felt like someone was watching us."
From behind another tree, a figure in a black suit and gloves wiped sweat from his brow. His eyes were slitted like those of a fox, a sly grin on his face as he murmured, "Nearly caught me… Regin, you're sharper than the old fart said." He vanished into the shadows, leaving the forest to its silence as the car disappeared down the winding road back to the mansion.
The scene shifts to a dark hallway where the mysterious man in the black suit walks calmly beneath a dimming bulb hanging from the ceiling. Shadows flicker around him as he reaches a door. Taking off his suit jacket, he drapes it over his arm, opens the door, and steps inside with a sly smile. Bowing slightly, he says, "You were right, old man; that Regin guy nearly found me."
"Quit stalling and get to the point. What about the boy? The one you were supposed to watch," a mysterious figure responds. His face is partially obscured, seated in a pitch-black wooden chair. Beside him stands a frail, ancient man whose twisted spine forces him into a permanent bow. Gaunt and skeletal, he wears tattered dark robes that cling to his frame, trailing behind as though he's draped in shadows. His face is hidden beneath a hood, but his sunken, glowing yellow eyes gleam with endless sorrow and hatred. His thin, claw-like fingers crackle with an eerie, gray energy. Dark vines and withered roots grow from his hunched spine, spiraling around his back as though rooted in decay itself.
In a voice filled with ancient sorrow and pain, the old man asks, "What did you find out? Has the boy awakened the element of NovaFlare?"
The man in the suit chuckles. "Why are you always so gloomy, old man? Try smiling for once. Anyway, I don't think the kid has awakened it. His aura was light blue."
"Hmm… did you locate the core in the house?" asks the seated figure, his voice laced with menace.
"I couldn't. Regin's grandson was there. I had to flee," the man in the suit replies, frustration seeping into his voice.
"Could you not even kill a fresh graduate?" the seated man sneers.
The man in the suit explains with a hint of defiance, "That boy holds Vorthun. If it had been anyone else, I might've considered it, but he would've killed me in no time. He cut down my pet like it was nothing."
The man in the chair boils with rage. "If he was that terrifying, why couldn't he sense you? He should have killed you by now."
The frail old man interjects, his voice sorrowful. "It's the price he must pay for wielding Vorthun. His senses are bound to dull over time."
"I already know that," snaps the seated figure, growing more irritated. Turning to the suited man, he commands, "Caelic, go and kill the boy."
Caelic hesitates. "But he hasn't awakened the NovaFlare…"
"So what? He will become a Meteorion, and a Meteorion is to be killed," the man in the chair says coldly. Then he turns to the frail old man, his tone menacing. "Old man, go with him. Kill anyone who gets in your way."
The old man bows his head, his voice laden with sorrow. "As you wish."
With that, the dark, gnarled roots on his back stretch and touch the ground, merging with it until he vanishes, sinking into the earth like a twisted root. Caelic gives a faint, devious smile, vanishing into thin air in a swirl of purple smoke. The dim bulb flickers once more, then plunges the room into darkness.
Ryen sat on his bed, leaning back against a pillow, with no trace of the wounds he had sustained earlier. Regin stood nearby and sat down beside him.
"So," Regin asked, "how did it feel to fight a Metbeast?"
Ryen looked thoughtful. "I don't know. At first, it felt like I was losing. Then, suddenly, I sensed a surge of power inside me. But now... I can't feel it anymore."
Regin smiled reassuringly. "That's okay. You'll figure it out with time." He then added, "Come on, there's someone you need to meet."
"Who?" Ryen asked curiously.