Zephyr lounged in his chair around the round table, his pose as relaxed as if he were reclining in a field rather than a grim command chamber. His gaze lingered lazily on the ceiling where floating orbs of light hovered, their glow illuminating the room with a cold, sterile radiance. The chamber itself was oppressive, its walls lined with enchanted grey stonework etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly in hues of blue. The air carried a faint hum, a constant reminder of the magic embedded in every inch of the place.
Six figures sat around the table, each cloaked in their own aura of authority, with rune-based devices scattered across the polished surface. At the center of the table floated a holographic projection, casting multicolored light into the room. It displayed a similar round table, this one occupied by six other individuals, their figures slightly distorted by the angled, top-down view.
Zephyr, however, paid it no mind. The discussions droning on around him might as well have been wind rustling through distant trees. His attention remained fixed on the orbs of light above, their gentle movement far more captivating than the heated arguments below.
"Zephyr! Are you even listening?"
The voice finally cut through the fog of his disinterest, drawing his attention back to the table. He turned his head slowly, a wide, unapologetic grin spreading across his face as he met their gazes. Most of the faces staring back were tight with irritation, their expressions a mix of scowls and restrained contempt.
"Nope," Zephyr said cheerfully, his tone dripping with indifference. "Don't care."
The response hit like a slap. One of the men, a broad-shouldered warrior clad in intricately carved metallic armor, bristled at the remark. His twin axes, strapped to his back, gleamed in the room's light as if hungry for action. His fiery orange hair matched the simmering rage in his eyes as he leaned forward, fists clenching.
"Then perhaps you should leave," he growled, his words tight with barely restrained anger.
Zephyr's grin widened, transforming into something sharper, more predatory. His cheery tone took on a deadly edge, the weight of his intent suffocating the room. Even the projection flickered as the atmosphere thickened, the air growing heavy with unspoken menace.
"Make me," Zephyr said, his voice a quiet challenge laced with pure malice.
The room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the projection. Even the heated arguments on the other side of the hologram seemed to falter, as though the ripple of tension in Zephyr's voice had reached across the distance.
The projection shifted, focusing on a figure shrouded in shadow. Tendrils of darkness wisped off his form like smoke, and a single eye of white light opened where his left eye should have been. His voice, calm yet unyielding, cut through the silence.
"Leave him be. I don't want to clean up the mess. We already have enough on our plates," the figure said, his gaze fixing on Zephyr with a weight that could crush lesser men.
Zephyr tilted his head slightly, recognizing him immediately. Noctis Umbra, he thought with a hint of amusement.
The orange-haired warrior winced but obeyed, his fiery bravado tempered by the shadowed man's words. He sank back into his seat, though his glare at Zephyr remained sharp enough to wound.
Zephyr chuckled softly, the sound rich with both amusement and danger. "That was a long time ago, Noctis. Are you sure you could stop me now, old friend?"
Noctis's chuckle echoed back, dark and knowing. "With your mind in the state it is now? Undoubtedly, yes."
Zephyr's grin shifted, the predatory edge softening into something more enigmatic, though it concealed a darkness far deeper than any Noctis commanded. "I suppose so," he said quietly.
Rising from his seat, Zephyr gave an exaggerated bow, his black coat sweeping dramatically behind him. The silver strands of his hair shimmered in the light, a stark contrast to the shadow he cast.
"I'm bored," he declared, his voice light yet dismissive. "So, I'll be excusing myself."
He spun on his heel, his coat flaring as his form dissolved into a cascade of radiant particles. The light danced briefly in the air before vanishing, leaving only the faintest shimmer in his wake.
Zephyr perched atop a ridge, the wind tugging at his coat as he gazed down at their mountain base. Below stretched an endless valley, hemmed in by towering rock formations that clawed at the heavens like ancient titans frozen in time. He let out a small sigh, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing an amulet. Its surface gleamed like a polished mirror, though Zephyr knew the trinket's true age.
With deliberate care, he flicked the activation switch at the top, causing the amulet to open. Inside, one half held a faded image of a family—seven figures, each adorned with striking silver hair and warm, genuine smiles. On the opposite side rested a shard of crystal embedded into the metal, its faint glow pulsating as though alive.
Zephyr's gaze lingered on the older man standing at the back of the photograph, a somber smile replacing his usual cheery demeanor. I guess I've aged like fine wine, all things considered, he thought, his lips twitching in faint amusement.
His eyes drifted over the other faces in the picture one by one before he finally snapped the amulet shut with a soft click. "Hope you're all still watching over this idiot," he murmured under his breath, his voice barely audible above the mountain breeze. Sliding the amulet back into his pocket, he stood and turned his attention to the base and the sprawling valley beyond.
Closing his eyes, Zephyr sank inward, surveying his core. It was a massive, kaleidoscopic structure of interwoven crystals, each shard shimmering with a unique hue. The fractured lens-like formation was held together by two colossal silver hands of raw energy, their presence both stabilizing and surreal.
About sixty percent full. It'll have to do, he thought, reopening his eyes.
Reaching into his inner pocket, he hesitated for a moment before retrieving a metallic pin. Fashioned from white gold and silver metals, it was accented with gold trim and bore the image of a slender sword crafted from glowing blue crystal. Zephyr studied it briefly, the weight of its significance pressing against his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he pocketed the pin once more.
Without a second thought, he launched himself off the ridge, angling toward the valley below. The wind roared in his ears, and a vicious smile spread across his face as he plummeted toward the battle.
At the heart of the valley, chaos reigned. The second base below was under siege, its walls battered by an unrelenting swarm of beasts. These were no mere animals—every one of them was at least rank 4, their monstrous forms bristling with lethal intent.
A streak of light tore through the sky, carving through the ranks of airborne attackers with surgical precision. Zephyr's body rematerialized near the gates, landing with a sharp crack of displaced air.
A guard clad in full plate armor astride a twelve-foot beast—something akin to a griffin, its feathers aflame with red and orange patterns—descended beside him. The soldier saluted with his right arm, his voice steady despite the dire situation. "Sir! The beasts have launched another attack ahead of the expected schedule!"
Zephyr's eyes narrowed. It's worse than we thought, he mused, though he kept the observation to himself. Morale was a fragile thing. Instead, a predatory smile returned to his lips.
"Hold the line and protect the base to the best of your ability," he ordered, his tone sharp and commanding. "I'll handle the rank 6 leading the charge."
Before the soldier could respond, Zephyr shot into the sky. The battlefield unfolded beneath him, a maelstrom of violence and chaos. It took him mere moments to spot his target—a massive storm of ice churning ominously in the distance, advancing steadily toward the gates.
Focusing mana into his eyes, Zephyr pierced through the swirling frost, glimpsing the creature at its core. A colossal avian beast composed of jagged, crystalline ice fragments loomed within, its body darker and denser than ordinary ice.
"Is that the prey?" a voice purred into his mind, smooth and melodic.
Yes, Zephyr thought in reply, directing his response toward Luxaris, his bonded companion.
His hair seemed to ripple with power, strands shifting and glowing as patterns of vibrant colors danced across them. From the air beside him, a massive figure coalesced—a fox-like creature standing fourteen feet tall. Its nine crystalline eyes radiated an otherworldly intelligence, their gaze locked on the storm ahead.
Without hesitation, Luxaris surged forward, her form a blur of radiant energy. Zephyr followed, but his senses prickled with warning. Another presence—equally formidable—touched his mana sense.
"Another rank 6," he muttered.
Far from feeling deterred, his grin widened, taking on an almost feral edge. As Luxaris plunged into the icy tempest, Zephyr shifted course, heading toward the second threat with a singular focus.