The dazzling sun shone over the barren lands of the south. Hardly any creature could be seen walking in the intense heat; except for two figures wearing thick black cloaks.
The figure in the lead paused periodically, casting a watchful gaze over the scenery, as though anticipating something. Behind him followed another, moving with a steady, almost detached grace, undisturbed by the greatsword at his side that seemed to hang naturally like a shadow.
The leading person halted, prickling his ears to the disturbance ahead.
"Do you hear that?"
His cold voice resounded and he narrowed his eyes as he stared at the small town not far away.
Groups of lightly armored men with menacing auras ravaged the roads and terrified innocent civilians. Several guards tried to defend their town, clashing their swords and shields against their enemies.
"Hold the line! Hold the line!"
The captain ordered, almost breaking his voice in doing so. He knew that if his men were to falter here, their precious town would be pillaged.
The bandits' leader remained steadfast and hacked down the guards one by one. As more of their brethren slumped to the ground with blood oozing out of their wounds, the rest of the guards started fleeing in fear and left their captain alone by himself.
"No-!"
The cries of horror spread throughout the barren lands; the agony intensified with the scorching heat.
"Please don't kill us! We have money!"
One of them knelt and prostrated upon the leader clad in glorious golden armor and sharp swords. He grinned at the person below him and sliced off his head without care in the world.
"Bring everyone out! I want to see how rich these fools are!"
His hoarse voice echoed, and his men dragged everyone. The rest looted every nook and cranny, sparing no household and business from their greed.
The leader looked at the stack of bags, jewelry, food, and everything else. Just this loot alone could sustain him and his gang of brothers for a month or two. Just as they were about to plunder even more, the cry of an alarm sounded not far away.
A man with an arm missing stumbled as he retreated and gripped his left shoulder tightly. Everyone became alert, and the bandits faced the south while brandishing their weapons.
The leader narrowed his eyes and stared far ahead where two black figures blocked their way.
"Who are you?!"
The leader asked, ignoring his subordinate who was on the brink of death.
He could see under the hood that the first person was a man, and based on the texture of his skin, seemed young and pale, which was rather uncommon in this desolate land they were in.
"Boss, what do we do?!"
"Wait, damn it!" The leader waved his men and asked once again. "Stop right there! Who are you?!"
The black-clothed man ignored his questions, reducing the leader's patience. His men smiled at this sight and wondered who was so presumptuous to brush off their leader like that.
"I am not going to give you another chance. Tell me who are you right now!"
The swordsman charged forward with swift and precise movements. He storms right into the center and cuts them down with brutal efficiency.
'What speed and strength!' The leader was stricken by fear inside.
The bandits panicked but their cries cut short as the large and sharp sword made its way to them one by one.
The leader laced with desperation, shouted at his subordinates.
"What are you waiting for, you fools? Your death? Hold your ground and surround him!"
Then, he turned around and gestured at the rest to retreat.
"Come, let's regroup outside the town!"
One of his loyal subordinates asked.
"Boss, who are those two? Why are you so afraid of them?"
"They are enhanced freaks, you idiot! Do you not see how fast that swordsman was?!"
The leader was frustrated that he had such stupid people.
"The enhanced? Are they from the… Concord?"
"No, they mustn't be. They don't have tags. They must be unregistered, but it doesn't matter. If they catch up, you and I-!"
A dark shadow suddenly streaked behind them. Before he could respond, a single sweeping slash struck them down, rendering most of them dead.
The young man from before emerges from the shadow, clapping his hands about this result.
"You have done well, Abaddon. All my efforts in reanimating and raising you from the dead were not in vain."
The young man under the hood glanced at the bodies of the bandits. He reached out his left hand and conjured a dark orb, draining the life essence from their dead bodies and causing them to wither.
The young man smiled and flicked the dark orb to his follower who was kneeling beside him.
Light flashed and the follower's aura strengthened a little. The dreading aura surrounding it intensified, and a small layer of dark aura covered its body which suppressed the dreading feeling.
Seeing the small amount it produced, he shook his head and shrugged.
"Is it worth the trouble, Abaddon?"
"Yes… master."
Abaddon knelt on the ground and thanked his master, Azzel Vansant.
The latter smiled and pointed his pale finger to the items on the ground.
They were coins and other materials, but to the young man, they were all just money to him. Money that could be used to purchase a lot of valuable things.
The ring on his middle finger glowed, and all the items turned into flashes of light heading straight into the ring.
"Barely worth an effort. I might need something more refined."
His eyes darted around the gang leader's dead body which suddenly sprang up and pointed a dagger to his neck.
Abaddon, the swordsman, was faster, blocking his attack and sending him to the ground. Abaddon stepped on the gang leader and crushed his stomach, rendering him a cripple.
"Ahhhh!"
The gang leader's face was filled with fear as Azzel turned to look down at him, his eyes empty of any empathy and full of detached curiosity.
"You better start answering my questions, or my follower here will make you suffer more."
"Bastard, you think I'd do that-! Ahhhhhh!"
Abaddon twisted his ankles unto the lower part of the leader's body.
The pain was so excruciating that even Azzel flinched at the sight of it.
"Don't be so ruthless. We still need him sane and alive."
The leader cursed the young man and his swordsman a thousand times in his mind. What kind of a hypocrite was this young man before him?
His face paled when he saw the young man reach out his hand and cast some sort of spell unto him. The entire world felt bleak, and time seemed to have stopped. The leader suddenly saw himself stranded on the desolate lands alone and could not move an inch at all.
"Tell me, gang leader. Where are we right now?"
The young man's cold voice echoed all around, incessantly ringing chaotic melodies in his ears. The wind fluttered around Azzel's cloak, slightly showing his young and indifferent face.
His scarlet eyes stared straight at the gang leader as if seeing through his soul.
'This... is no simple young man! What kind of person would have those eyes at his age!'
The leader tried resisting to no avail. The temptation surrounding him was too forceful and he could not help but blurt out words he hardly wanted to say.
"We… are in the southern parts… of Erterin! To the north is the large city of Doba, a city bordering Erterin and… and Capria!"
The young man's brows furrowed, showing confusion on the matter. He looked down at the leader again and asked.
"Erterin and Capria. Are they countries?"
"Erterin… is a barren wasteland we are in… and Capria is the holy land of us Humans…!"
The young man shook his head when he heard the leader's answers. The gang leader did not know much of the surrounding area possibly due to his status.
"Who sent you here then?"
The leader struggled furiously. He did not want to divulge it but the furious eyes of the young man were too terrifying. A shadow of mystery clouded around it and staring for too long would make someone give up all the resistance.
"In… Doba City! You must… you must…!"
The gang leader died which frustrated Azzel.
"Tch, what a waste of mana."
He snapped his fingers, and the dreading atmosphere receded like a tide. Down below, the leader died with eyes wide open.
Azzel sighed and conjured a dark orb once again. This time, the dark aura harvested from the leader was several times more potent compared to the leader's underlings.
"Oh? This one is more refined than the others. Is it because he is more powerful? But what made him more powerful?"
He looked at the dark orb with a radius of 10 centimeters floating above his right palm. The concentration of dark aura was so powerful that even space warped around it.
The orb shot past Azzel and slammed into Abaddon's broad chest making his large figure tremble. Dark power coursed within, expanding his already muscular frame underneath the armor. The veins pulsed together with his tall body rapidly stretched a few centimeters taller, drawn by the surging power of dark magic. Shadows deepened around his form, making his eyes gleam with ominous light.
A fraction of the dark power detached from him and seeped deep into the greatsword who cried in response. Its silver blade darkened in response as if it was absorbing the abyss itself. The ancient runes glowed in resonance, seeming to have gained life on their own, and hummed following Abaddon's transformed unyielding strength.
Azzel chuckled, barely unaffected by the commotion. An entire minute passed, and Abaddon fell softly to the ground.
"Your aura seems to have gotten stronger, Abaddon."
The swordsman knelt once again, his voice cold and indifferent.
"Thank you, master."
"No need to thank me. We are both helping each other out."
Azzel looked to the north.
"Lead the way, Abaddon. Our destination: Doba City up north. You won't have any objections to that, would you?"
"No, master."
A hollow voice replied, coming from the kneeling swordsman.
Azzel smiled and gestured for Abaddon to start moving.
The pair traversed over the horizon, no longer seen by the townspeople after that.