Secret Chamber, Underground Thirtos City
This chamber is a hidden space beneath the palace, surrounded by thick stone walls and known only to a select few from the highest echelons of nobility. The room resembles a historical archive more than a formal meeting space, filled with ancient books, magical artifacts, and inscriptions in ancient languages scattered throughout.
In the center of the room, Fitran stood with Excalibur in hand, his gaze fixed on the four familiar faces. With a menacing posture, he raised the glowing Excalibur imbued with dark energy; its magical aura radiated with an intensity that made each heartbeat feel like a slow, drawn-out moment, creating an extraordinary tension. They struggled to maintain their focus as their minds wandered, crushed under an unbearable weight. A wave of shimmering dark energy, flashing like dark lightning, left them breathless, and some were overtaken by an uncontrollable tremor. These were the members of the Ancient Council—the figures wielding the greatest power in the kingdom, who knew more about the ancient spirit Elli-Rheun than they allowed the public to know.
The nobles included:
Lord Altair von Rook, the leader of the great sorcerers, renowned for his cunning ability to hide malice behind sweet words. As Fitran's magical aura enveloped them, he felt a chilling vibration creep down his spine, causing cold sweat to bead at his temples.
Lady Selene Iridan, a keeper of secrets who had long been involved in the research of spirit powers and ancient rituals. Upon sensing Fitran's aura, her face went pale and her lips trembled, as if the remnants of her courage evaporated in the face of the unexpected power.
Lord Varan Duskgate, a military general with knowledge of ancient warfare and supernatural threats, felt his heart racing uncontrollably. Each beat served as a reminder of the lurking danger, prompting him to clench his hands under the table.
Duke Elion Verath, an influential diplomat frequently dealing with matters concerning otherworldly entities, experienced chills as his fingers brushed against the cold surface of the table. A wave of dread enveloped him, transforming his calm expression into one of striking uncertainty.
Their presence surrounded the meeting table, yet silence enveloped the room. The atmosphere felt stagnant and oppressive, as if each breath was stifled by the chilling power of Fitran. His dark aura flowed with intimidation, battering the psychological tension of the nobles. The flickering energy radiating throughout the room disrupted their thoughts, creating a discomfort that dulled their courage, leaving their tongues tied and their faces marked by fear.
Lord Altair initiated the conversation with a heavy, cold voice, his tone seemingly drawing back a threatening veil, "You know, Fitran, that we are not the only ones aware of the ancient spirit now residing within Seraphyne. We, the Ancient Council, have been monitoring this development for a long time—long before you even realized it."
You know, Fitran, that we are not the only ones aware of the ancient spirit now residing within Seraphyne. We, the Ancient Council, have been monitoring this development for a long time—long before you even realized it.
As Fitran's statement slipped from his lips, tension enveloped the room. The corners of the noble's lips began to tremble, their expressions shifting from confidence to anxiety, as if ensnared in a web of uncertainty. The dark energy radiating from Fitran was no longer just a mere magical aura; it had become a force that dominated the space, simultaneously constricting their hearts.
Some among them even began to tremble, briefly closing their eyes in an apparent attempt to deny the harsh reality. As one person's fear manifested on their face, another's countenance turned pale, signaling that the effects of Fitran's magic had spread like a chilling wave among them, awakening a profound sense of dread. Whispers of terror escaped some, while others found themselves lost for words.
In that suffocating silence, every movement made by Fitran seemed to shine like a spotlight; each heartbeat resonated with a powerful magical force, leaving a deep imprint on the hearts of the nobles. The initial weight of despair they felt gradually transformed into a consuming hopelessness, threatening to strip away their belief in a bright future.
Fitran simply nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on them, even as he realized that this meeting was larger than he had imagined. With an aura of intense magic gripping the air, he stood intimidatingly at the center of the room, exuding waves of dark energy that thickened the atmosphere, akin to being under immense water pressure. The nobles felt his presence acutely; their faces turned pale, some trembling, while cold sweat trickled down their temples. Their thoughts were disrupted by the suffocating weight of the atmosphere, causing them to lose concentration and their ability to speak fluently.
A crackling black lightning surrounded Fitran, heightening the oppressive tension in the room. The nobles had long manipulated the unfolding events; they were not only aware of the ancient spirit's existence but also recognized the immense potential it held. Fitran, assuming an increasingly commanding posture, emanated a震撼 aura of anguish, mingling with dark energy. The room subtly vibrated, producing chilling sounds that sent deep waves of fear into the heart of everyone present. Awed, they exchanged glances, some obscuring their faces in an attempt to shy away from his piercing gaze.
"Do you think we are silent out of fear? No, Fitran. We know that nothing can withstand the power of this ancient spirit. However, we also understand that if left unchecked, it will not only destroy Seraphyne's body but the entire world. We are here to maintain balance."
"But why didn't you tell me this sooner?" Fitran replied, his voice low yet sharp, filled with an undeniable threat.
"You don't need to know everything, knight. What's important is how we all save ourselves," Lady Selene responded, her tone gentle yet hanging with a veiled threat.
Lord Varan Duskgate, who was more focused on military strength and resilience strategies, rose from his seat and fixed a sharp, wary gaze on Fitran. The tension between them seemed to create an energy that shook the room. "We all know that the Seraphyne's body is the key. We cannot afford to lose the chance to seize it. Just think of the immense power we would gain if we could control this spirit."
Fitran furrowed his brow, feeling an unsettling urge to concentrate. The faces of the other nobles grew paler, etched with fear as his magical aura began to take on a more tangible form. They desired to exploit the ancient spirit for their own gain, and this posed a much greater threat than mere physical destruction. Some began to tremble, cold sweat beading on their foreheads, their expressions reflecting a growing sense of despair as if they were directly confronting an unavoidable darkness.
With an overwhelming and dense aura of magic, Fitran stood menacingly, Excalibur in his hand emanating a dark, vibrating light. "You all plan to master it, don't you? You want to turn that spirit into a weapon."
"We cannot change the fate of the world with empty hands, Fitran," replied Lord Elion, the diplomat, calmly, though his voice began to tremble. Fitran's aura surged with pressure, making the air feel increasingly suffocating, and each wave of it disrupted the tranquility, rendering the faces of the nobles pale. They began to bite their lips, trembling, and cold sweat slowly trickled down their temples. "If this spirit cannot be controlled, we should strive to contain it before it master us."
Now Fitran realizes that these nobles are unreliable. They are not interested in stopping the destruction that the ancient spirit could bring—instead, they intend to use that power for their own political and military gain. Surrounding Fitran, magical energy surged like dark flashes of lightning, creating subtle vibrations that rippled through the floor, adding to the unsettling hum in the air. The nobles appeared increasingly panicked; their faces reflected deep doubt, their fingers clenched, and their bodies trembled, creating an oppressive atmosphere. The tension escalated, and with every passing second, the effects of Fitran's magic increased the pressure in the room, generating a palpable and unavoidable fear among them.
Fitran, having realized the existential danger posed by the ancient spirit, began to contemplate taking further action. His decision was not only to protect Seraphyne but also to thwart the nefarious plans of the nobles who sought to manipulate the ancient spirit for their own gain. His magical aura now radiated an intense wave that permeated the chamber, causing unrest within the souls of the nobles. Each flash of dark magical energy that crackled around Fitran created a disturbing vibration, leading some nobles to tremble and break into a cold sweat, their faces flushing with fear. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense, eliciting deep-seated anxiety in the hearts of the nobles, awakening their survival instincts.
"I will not allow you to control a power greater than anything you can comprehend," Fitran declared, his sword's voice resonating with chilling energy. With a threatening posture, he raised Excalibur, the sword glowing with dark energy, heightening the tension in the room. The changes in the expressions of the nobles became increasingly apparent—some averted their gazes, while others bit their lips, suppressing their fear. "You will regret it if you continue to involve yourselves in this dangerous game."
The nobles exchanged fearful glances, their faces betraying clear signs of terror as the dark aura surrounding Fitran unsettled their psyches. They felt trapped in a web of uncertainty, realizing that Fitran—with his shining Excalibur—was an unexpected threat. The escalated atmosphere created a tense vibration among them, making their breaths ragged and lending the impression that each passing second felt increasingly oppressive.
Some of them began shifting their seating positions, the noise of the wooden chairs scraping against the floor heightening the atmosphere of chaos. Fear was clearly etched on their faces; trembling hands covered their mouths, stifling the words that threatened to escape, while cold sweat streamed down their foreheads, signifying the rapid beating of their hearts. One nobleman, his face growing paler, gripped the armrest of his chair more tightly, as if trying to muster strength from within himself that was beginning to weaken. Amid the crowd, a long-haired woman bit her lower lip until it turned pale, staring blankly out the open window, as if hoping for an escape from the terror that consumed her heart.
In the corner of the room, a muscular man stood upright, distancing himself from the wall, creating the impression that he was more than just a spectator in this scenario. Known for his fierce demeanor, his clenched fists now revealed how the tension had seeped into every part of him. As his gaze flickered towards Fitran, the rapid blink of his eyes appeared as a signal of the uncontrollable anxiety within him. Even as several nobles began to whisper among themselves, the slight tremors in their hands reflected how Fitran's aura captivated their hearts, while cold sweat trickled down their temples, indicating their entrapment in a magical bind that sapped their courage, leaving them engulfed in uncertainty.
In the midst of this tension, Fitran stood calmly, gazing fearlessly at the anxious nobles. His straight posture and elevated head reflected unwavering confidence, as if he were the master of the situation. He understood that he was in control of the game, and although they schemed behind the scenes, their efforts seemed futile against the shimmering shadow of Excalibur by his side. The expressions of several nobles shifted to one of astonishment and helplessness as a powerful magical aura enveloped the room, causing their breaths to become erratic—revealing the thick tension surrounding them. Their heads swayed slowly from side to side, indicating that Fitran was patiently awaiting the perfect moment to unveil his plan, while a barely visible smile hinted that he was well-prepared for all possibilities ahead.
However, they also understood that if they could master the ancient spirit sleeping within Seraphyne, they would possess an unstoppable power.
"We must act quickly," whispered Lady Selene, who began devising a plan to seize the spirit, even if it meant confronting Fitran himself.
Fitran now understood one crucial fact: this game transcended kingdoms; it involved the world itself. If he did not act swiftly, the world as they knew it could be destroyed in an instant. As these words left his lips, a profound and dense magical aura radiated from Fitran's body, flooding the room with waves of energy that penetrated to the bone. The nobles present felt the overwhelming threat looming in their minds, tension spreading among them like wildfire. Some began to tremble, cold sweat slowly soaking their brows, while their faces transformed, revealing a deep-seated fear that raised their eyebrows and furrowed their brows. The aura not only weighed down the air but seemed to grip their very souls with a suffocating uncertainty, making it challenging for them to clarify their thoughts, lose focus, and articulate their words smoothly. The atmosphere turned rigid and tense, as if time had stopped, pulling them to the edge of a biting fear.
Meanwhile, Lord Vellisar D'Ashem, who knew every intricacy of this project, suddenly vanished without a trace. Uncertainty hung in the air, and even Fitran's magic could not detect his presence. Anger surged within Fitran like trapped lava, mingling with confusion and frustration. The true objective of the ancient spirit was not Seraphyne; it longed for Rinoa, for within her body lay the core of the Avatar of Harmony. This core had a profound connection to the cycles of previous avatars, which was inherently intertwined with the cycle of this world.
"Cih ...." Fitran grumbled, his voice laced with disappointment. "I've wasted too much time here. There's nothing to gain in this place; everything is just a puppet." His dissatisfaction was evident in the tone of his voice.
"Why have I been so foolish?" Fitran muttered to himself.
"Perhaps I should confront them directly ..." he considered, but before taking any action, Fitran wanted to ensure something was certain.