Chronicles of the Engulfment

As the group reappeared, a strange sensation of dizziness washed over each of them. The blinding light of the spell faded, leaving them in a small grove just a few hundred meters from the towering walls of the city of Elrin.

Claude placed a hand on his forehead, trying to steady his breathing.

"That's disorienting," he murmured, his eyes wide.

Thaelion, still unsteady, stared at the magical circle slowly fading beneath their feet.

"I knew this spell existed, but covering such a distance in an instant… even armies use it sparingly. The amount of mana required is immense."

Faelar, pale-faced, leaned against a tree, one hand on his stomach.

"I don't know what's worse… traveling months in an instant or this feeling like I'm about to lose my lunch."

Kazuya shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh, that? You'll get used to it. The first few times are always the worst. Me, the first time, I passed out… Okay, fine, it was mostly because I miscalculated the landing and ended up embedded in a wall, but let's move on."

Ryndiel, still in shock, turned to Eryndel.

"Even if it's not an unknown spell, few can afford to use it on this scale. If there's no mana limit… Battles would never be the same."

Eryndel nodded slowly.

"And yet," he murmured, "this power is in the hands of… him."

He glanced at Kazuya, who pretended not to hear as he adjusted his coat, a small smirk playing on his lips.

Claude finally regained his composure and turned to Kazuya.

"Thanks for your help, but I have to admit, this is beyond anything I've ever seen."

"Hey, it's a pleasure to lend a hand," Kazuya replied with a bright smile. "After all, an Ultimate Divine Chosen One can't let people struggle, right?"

Thaelion rolled his eyes but remained silent, too shaken by what he had just experienced to muster a sharp retort.

As they approached the city, the prospect of a few days of rest began to lighten the mood.

"We've gained several months thanks to this… thing," Eryndel said, stretching his arms. "We should take advantage of it."

"I agree," Lysariel declared. "A good bath and a hot meal will make me forget this unsettling teleportation."

"And some wine," Faelar added with a smirk.

Kazuya, walking beside Claude, listened with amusement.

"You know, if you want, I can also show you some recipes from my homeland."

"From your… homeland?" Claude asked, intrigued.

Kazuya cleared his throat.

"Forget it. But seriously, you're going to love it."

"As long as it doesn't move on my plate, I'm in," Ryndiel joked.

The group burst into laughter, for the first time in days. Even Thaelion, though still wary, couldn't help but smile slightly.

They finally reached an inn near the city, where they decided to settle for the night. The atmosphere was light, and for the first time in a long while, they allowed themselves to enjoy a moment of respite.

***

For several days, Claude and his companions let themselves be carried by the lively life of Elrin. The cobblestone streets were filled with artisan shops, noisy taverns, and food stalls whose enticing aromas wafted through the air. Each found something to occupy themselves:

Ryndiel wandered among the weapon shops and acquired a new blackwood bow adorned with elven engravings.

Lysariel spent hours in local libraries and bookstores, intrigued by the region's stories and myths.

Faelar and Thaelion, inseparable, sampled various local dishes and even attended a traditional dance performance in the main square.

Eryndel, ever wary, spent much of his time observing the surroundings and honing his sword skills in the city's training arena.

Tylwen, on the other hand, remained aloof, watching the city with her piercing gaze. She often disappeared without warning, reappearing hours later without a word about what she had done.

As for Claude, he took advantage of these quiet moments to repair his armor and recharge. Though he seemed relaxed, his mind was still troubled by the attack in the forest.

Kazuya, true to himself, proved surprisingly popular. His natural charisma and tales of unbelievable adventures captivated both the locals and his new companions. Yet, after a few days, he announced he had to leave.

"You're really an interesting group," he declared during a lively dinner at the inn. "But duty calls me elsewhere."

"Already?" Lysariel asked, a bit disappointed.

"Yes. This world is vast, and there's still so much to explore… and so many people to help."

Yuki, still perched on his shoulder, nodded with the air of a tiny sage.

"You'll be missed," Ryndiel said with a sincere smile.

"Not as much as I'll miss this city," Kazuya joked with a wink.

He bid his farewells the next morning, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared.

On their last evening of rest, the group gathered in a private room at the inn to take stock. The laughter of the previous days gave way to a more serious atmosphere.

"We were very lucky," Faelar finally said, breaking the silence. "If Kazuya hadn't intervened…"

"It's not luck," Thaelion grumbled. "It's fate, or maybe a curse."

Lysariel sighed.

"Whatever it was, we have to admit that person in the forest was terrifying. And he wasn't at full power…"

"Which means his master is even more dangerous," Eryndel added.

Claude nodded, his arms crossed.

"This reminds us why we must remain vigilant. This kind of enemy is not to be taken lightly."

Silence fell, each lost in their thoughts. Then, as if to lighten the mood, Ryndiel said:

"You know what I'd do after this mission?"

Everyone turned to her, curious.

"I'd go back to my hometown. Lie on a soft bed and listen to the birds sing all day."

"That sounds… lazy," Eryndel remarked.

"And you?" Ryndiel retorted with a smirk. "What would you do?"

Eryndel shrugged.

"I'd hunt down those unworthy of forgiveness. One by one."

"Always so serious," Lysariel sighed. "I'd travel. There's still so much to discover."

Claude listened in silence, a slight smile on his lips.

"And you, Claude?" Eryndel asked.

He looked up at them, his deep blue eyes gleaming with an indefinable light.

"Me? I don't know yet. Maybe I'd just keep moving forward… until I find my own answer."

A respectful silence followed his words. Then Faelar, as if to lighten the mood, raised his mug.

"No matter what we do after, the important thing is to stay alive until then, right?"

Murmurs of agreement followed, and they toasted.

***

The ceiling exploded in a deafening crash. Shards of stone and wood flew across the room, smashing violently against the walls. A figure emerged from the debris and landed on the central table, reducing it to splinters upon impact. A cloud of dust rose, obscuring everyone's vision.

A tense silence settled, broken only by the rustle of rubble falling to the ground. All eyes were fixed on the intruder, frozen between shock and apprehension.

In the thick haze of suspended dust, two glowing red lights appeared. Slowly, a steel-gloved hand, extended with metallic claws, pierced the veil of ash and lazily swept the air. The dust dissipated, finally revealing the intruder.

Standing in the center of the room was a youthful figure, slim, almost frail in appearance. His obsidian exoskeleton gleamed under the flickering torchlight. His pale violet skin contrasted with his almost white blond hair, and his entirely red eyes shone with a supernatural glow. But what drew the most attention were the ashen horns, elegantly curved upward like a royal crown.

A smile touched his lips. Then, in a voice far too calm for someone who had just made such a brutal entrance, he hummed softly:

"Hum hum hum..."

A movement caught attention among the debris. A stone hand emerged from the rubble and presented him with a dust-covered amulet. The boy grabbed it with studied nonchalance and held it up to his face to examine it.

He sighed.

"This belongs to Khael," he declared, spinning it between his fingers. "Truly regrettable... It seems this little group attacked and killed him."

He paused, then shook his head slightly, as if remembering an amusing detail.

"No, no… Actually, I'm sure Khael started it. That's totally his style. But to die by their hands... He really messed up."

All eyes remained fixed on him, tense, ready to react to the slightest suspicious movement. The silence was crushing, heavy with tension.

The boy observed them for a moment, then, with feigned indifference, turned away.

"There's nothing more to do here. Khael is dead."

With a casual step, he prepared to leave the way he had come… but stopped abruptly.

"Ah… I almost forgot."

He turned slightly, his glowing red gaze sliding over the group with an almost oppressive softness.

"You made a mistake. You broke something that belonged to me."

His voice was polite, almost friendly, but an implicit threat seeped through, icy.

"A mistake I will gladly correct. After all… everyone knows it's unacceptable to touch what's mine."

Without warning, his foot shot out and struck the table debris with controlled violence. The pieces of wood and stone flew across the room, hitting the wall with a sharp crash, clearing the space between him and the group of elves.

A smile stretched his lips.

"We've only just met… and now we must say goodbye under such tragic circumstances."

He paused, savoring the moment, then introduced himself with chilling simplicity:

"My name is Pirus. I imagine you've heard of me."

A shiver ran through the room. All except Claude felt as if the sky had fallen on their heads. They hoped, against all logic, that they had misheard. That it was a bad joke.

But their hopes were brutally crushed by reality.

The boy's ears were the undeniable proof.

Round ears.

Human ears.

Thaelion, who until then had been trying to control his panic, suddenly paled. His gaze, fixed on Pirus, widened under the effect of a brutal revelation. His breath caught, his heart pounding against his ribs as if seeking an escape. He opened his mouth, tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Then, in a half-voice, almost in a strangled breath:

"No… no, it's not possible…"

He took a step back, his legs threatening to give way beneath him. His gaze shifted from Pirus's face to the memories etched in his mind: statues, frescoes, legends whispered with fear. That cursed name, that nightmare of history, that scourge no one ever hoped to see in the flesh.

"The… Millennial Tyrant…"

His voice was a mix of disbelief and horror. Not a scream, not a theatrical exclamation, just a cold, irrefutable statement, as if merely uttering those words risked inviting misfortune.

Pirus slowly turned his burning gaze toward him.

"Ah. An interruption. Charming."

His tone dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes held no amusement. A deep anger simmered within them, like a storm ready to break. He took a step forward, and as if moved by a survival instinct, everyone stepped back in unison. Not because he had moved. But because his mere existence, his mere presence, weighed on them like an invisible vise.

"You dare interrupt my speech? How rude."

The ground trembled beneath their feet, a slight, almost imperceptible tremor, but enough to awaken a dull anguish.

A silence settled.

The group members exchanged worried glances, but not just because of the threat. It was something else. A visceral sensation, a growing sense of horror. Eryndel, usually impassive, clenched his jaw, his gaze riveted on Pirus. He knew him. Or rather, he knew what he was.

The seconds stretched. Faelar swallowed hard. Ryndiel took an involuntary step back. The air became heavy, as if each breath cost a little more.

Claude, however, frowned. He observed every detail of the Tyrant, analyzing his words and gestures. Unlike the others, he seemed neither terrified nor shaken.

And then, with disconcerting assurance, he declared in a firm tone:

"We have nothing to reproach ourselves for."

His voice cut through the air like a blade.

A shiver ran through the group. Eryndel and Faelar tensed. Lysariel held her breath. All stared at Claude with the same expression, a mix of terror and disbelief.

The message was clear: "By all the gods, shut him up."

Pirus arched an eyebrow, amused. He didn't even need to speak. Claude's ignorance spoke for him.

"Oh?" His smile widened. "This is interesting. I wonder how long this bravery will last."

Claude didn't respond. He simply held his gaze, unshakable.

Pirus then burst into a dry, sinister laugh. A laugh devoid of joy, devoid of humanity.

"Very well. Let's make this night unforgettable."

An oppressive silence enveloped the room. The group members exchanged worried glances, but none of them wanted to back down, not yet. Claude, his face hardened, instinctively stepped forward, his sword already drawn.

"You won't make us bend," he declared in a voice meant to be firm but laced with palpable tension.

Pirus, motionless, let a smile stretch his pale lips. He didn't need to respond, for his mere presence was enough to suffocate hope. With a casual wave of his hand, he made the ground tremble. An invisible but irresistible shockwave swept through the room, slamming the group members against the walls.

"Bend?" he repeated, amused. "No. I don't want you to bend. I want you to BREAK."

He took a step forward, and the ground shattered beneath his feet, as if the earth itself refused to bear his weight.

Ryndiel, her bow already drawn, fired an enchanted arrow straight at Pirus. But before it could reach its target, the earth surged to form a barrier. The arrow exploded in a burst of light, but the Tyrant hadn't moved a millimeter.

"Pathetic," he murmured, sweeping the air with his hand.

A column of earth erupted beneath Ryndiel, sending her crashing into the ceiling before she fell heavily. Blood trickled from her lips as she tried to get up.

"Scatter!" Claude shouted, gripping his sword.

The group tried to disperse, but the room turned into total chaos. The walls collapsed, the floor fractured, and debris flew in all directions. The city itself began to tremble under the assault of Pirus's power.

Eryndel attempted to charge at Pirus, who seemed distracted, but a hand of earth shot from the ground and grabbed him by the waist. He screamed, trying to break free, but the grip tightened.

"It's always the same," Pirus said, observing the scene. "These creatures are so fragile."

With a sharp gesture, he clenched his fist, and the hand of earth crushed Eryndel. A cry of pain was abruptly cut off, leaving the others frozen in horror.

Tylwen, the quickest of the group, charged next, two gleaming daggers in hand. But before she could reach Pirus, the ground opened beneath her feet. She plunged into a chasm that immediately closed.

"No!" Ryndiel screamed, who, despite her injuries, tried to fire another arrow.

But Pirus burst into laughter, his amusement almost childlike, as the chaos continued.

The group found themselves cornered in a ruined street, breathless. Claude still held his sword, but his hands trembled. Ryndiel, badly wounded, struggled to get up. Faelar and the others regrouped, fighting against panic.

"Did you really think you stood a chance against me?" Pirus asked, slowly approaching.

The buildings around them crumbled under his power, each step he took sending vibrations through the ground. Claude, his face twisted in pain and anger, stepped forward.

"This makes no sense," he spat.

Pirus tilted his head, almost curious.

"Is this when you realize it?"

With a slow, theatrical gesture, he raised his hands. A wave of earth surged, sweeping Ryndiel, who tried to repel the attack with an explosive arrow. The blast briefly illuminated the scene, but when the dust settled, nothing remained of her.

The survivors retreated further, trapped. Death seemed imminent, and they knew it.

Claude, despite his despair, shouted to his companions:

"Go! Now!"

With what little strength he had left, he lunged at Pirus, trying to create a diversion. But the Tyrant blocked his strike with a single hand, pushing him aside like a child brushing away a toy.

"Useless bravery, just how I like it," he sneered.

Taking advantage of the opening, Faelar managed to drag the last survivors into the devastated alleys. But even in their flight, the earthquakes caused by Pirus pursued them, threatening to swallow them all.

The group, reduced to a handful of members, knew they would never forget this night.