In a forest on the outskirts of Auria, two men glared menacingly at a third.
The silence stretched until one of the pair—clad in a black robe emblazoned with a white dragon—took the initiative.
His youthful face showed firm, determined eyes, and he radiated the kind of aura that would make him the leading man in any fantasy tale.
Long red hair flared like living flame.
He wasn't exactly thin, yet he still looked slight beside the second man, who stood nearly twice his height and carried the presence of two men in one body—a true giant.
The tall, powerfully built man also wore a robe, this one bearing a bull's-head crest across the back. His dark skin seemed to gleam even in the night's gloom; close-cropped hair and a neatly trimmed beard gave him an air of stern authority.
"Let's settle this once and for all, right here, right now," the red-haired youth said, blue eyes flashing.
"Alexander, I'll show you how vast the gap between us really is," the big man answered.
Blinding light burst from his hands, forming a rune-ring in midair—a summoning seal reserved for monsters above Supreme rank.
"Let's see who drops him first! Ten thousand mana crystals says I'm faster," the giant added, jerking a thumb at the third man, who watched with total indifference.
"Don't cry when you lose, old Dan," Alexander replied, brimming with confidence.
He began his own summon. In under a second, a fissure more than two hundred meters long split the forest floor, swallowing trees as it opened.
Up thrust massive horns and the towering body of a minotaur-like beast at least fifteen meters tall; its bellow shook the entire clearing.
Overhead, storm clouds converged, and a colossal bolt ripped the sky, coalescing into a white dragon some twenty meters long. Wrapped in lightning, each motion warped the air and scattered sparks like fireworks.
The third man remained impassive, swathed head-to-toe in a brown cloak; only a few facial features and a long black beard showed.
"Magnificent beasts, I'll grant you that," the cloaked man said.
Dan laughed. "Good taste won't save your life—but I can make your death quick."
At high levels, quality beats quantity; summoners pour everything into a single monster rather than fielding a crowd of weaklings. The stronger the beast, the more mana cores it occupies, boosting combat might and survivability—and at each new tier it learns better ways to stay alive. Taking down a Transcendent is brutally hard.
"I've got a better idea," the cloaked stranger went on. "Pretend none of this happened—I take the crystal, you keep your lives. Sounds fair."
Alexander, silent until now, raised an arm. The white dragon hovering above opened its jaws, revealing a sphere crackling with wild golden lightning. Without hesitation it hurled the blast at the mysterious man.
A white beam tore the sky, turning night to day for a heartbeat.
"Very well. If that's how you want it… let's fight," the stranger said, a macabre smile curling his lips.
He lifted his hands; with precise gestures he triggered a Transcendent seal that burst into pale flames.
Above the runic circle, space distorted—a black rift hung in the air, as though reality itself had been clawed open. A vast, shadowy talon thrust through.
First came the claws, then a creature that looked vaguely draconic—but unlike the majestic dragon above, this thing was wreathed in dense mist that swallowed every hint of light.
Fully emerged, it fired a dreadful black beam that slammed into the white energy, unleashing a cataclysmic shock that made the very air shudder. The collision ripped through the forest like a gale, uprooting trees and shredding them to splinters.
When the smoke cleared, the cloaked man saw a stone slab at least twenty meters across hurtling toward him.
With a single, sweeping tail strike, the mist-shrouded dragon shattered the rock into thousands of fragments—none of which ever touched its master.
"That guy's tough," Dan muttered.
"Then we'd better go all-out; if this drags on we'll have trouble," Alexander agreed.
With a simple, almost instinctive sweep of their hands, both men gave the order.
Their monsters lunged at the shadow dragon—the minotaur swinging a colossal punch while the white dragon sank lightning-wreathed fangs into the creature of darkness.
The shadow dragon reacted with supernatural agility. Before the minotaur's blow could land, it merged with the murk around it, vanishing from sight. An instant later it reappeared beside the giant beast—as though it had phased straight through its body—and parried with a shield of black energy. Meanwhile the white dragon's crackling bite crashed against the dark barrier, the lightning dissipating into black sparks that sprayed through the air.
With a guttural roar the shadow dragon stabbed its talons into the ground. The impact unleashed a shockwave that rippled across the clearing, blasting both attackers backward.
The beasts recovered quickly and renewed the assault, while their masters waged their own battle some distance away. Tree-tops were sliced off and explosions burst seemingly from nowhere—their strikes too fast for the naked eye to follow.
The monstrous clash grew even more frenzied: the minotaur advanced with titanic brute force; the white dragon fired lethal bolts that split the air. Each time they struck, the shadow dragon blended with darkness, absorbing part of the power and countering with physics-defying maneuvers. Thunderous impacts and flying debris turned the forest into chaos.
The three summoners stayed clear of the main melee. Alexander lifted a hand and conjured a shimmering barrier to shield them from flying splinters; Dan glided over rubble, eyes sharp for any opening. The cloaked stranger, once serene, now showed clear signs of fatigue.
At the core of the fight the shadow dragon conjured an almost impenetrable black shield, diffusing an onslaught from both foes. With a menacing roar it hurled a fresh wave of dark energy, spiraling through the air, repelling and unsettling its opponents.
Although it had held its own, the shadow dragon soon accumulated serious wounds—its rivals were equals in rank, truly magnificent opponents. The cloaked man began to worry; he had underestimated them, and the way things were going he would lose—a prospect he did not relish.
Abruptly he dismissed his summon, recalling the dragon into himself. Then he drew a dark crystal from his sleeve, crushed it, and vanished from sight.
Seeing their enemy disappear, the two summoners swore.
"Coward! He ran!" Alexander shouted.
"In the end it wasn't a fair duel anyway," Dan sighed. "At least we forced him to show his escape route. Looked like a teleport crystal—he can't have gone far."
They dispelled their own beasts and shot into the sky, hunting the mysterious man.
*****
Threading through Auria's alleys, Arngrim—the most notorious thief in Volkavia, famed for stealing formidable treasures—knew nothing escaped his touch.
The director of Almost Academy had recently secured a rare crystal from a natural source while scouting a hidden realm; word of that prize drew Arngrim here. He stole it—only to find himself chased not by one Master but by two of equal stature. His flight had cost him the teleport crystal he used as a trump card; even Masters considered such items precious.
Now wounded worse than he'd realized and barely able to fly, he needed a place to recover before quitting the city. Simple plan: slip into a house and quietly dispatch the occupants—anything below Transcendent rank was no harder than crushing ants.
Still, fate would be cruel if the home belonged to someone powerful; Masters weren't exactly common on every block. With that in mind Arngrim moved ever farther from the center, heading for the outskirts until he reached a seemingly ordinary neighborhood.
He broke a door lock and slipped inside, careful not to make noise or cause extra damage—he was still a fugitive, after all.
Inside the house he found nothing remarkable—could anything be more ordinary? Well, aside from the thick grime and cobwebs draped over every corner. Maybe the place was abandoned. "My luck's improving," he thought.
After closing the door, he collapsed onto the thread-bare sofa without ceremony; he just needed a short rest before slipping away again.
Now that the adrenaline had ebbed, he noticed the deep gashes and black-and-blue bruises all over his body.
"Deal with it later," he muttered to himself. "I'll come back, thrash those guys, and rob them blind—leave 'em in their underwear."
In a dark bedroom of the house, a glow burst from Marcelo's hands. A tiny light drifted down and, upon reaching the foot of the bed, revealed an ordinary-looking brick that pulsed with a faint luminescence.
Suddenly a whisper floated from the brick:
"Food… delicious…"