Lion woke Loking with the alarm. It's still 7 AM. I need to train first, then the mission, he thought.
He glanced at Anazitis, sleeping like a baby—though he was pretending to be nervous. He just looked worried because we were about to steal from the academy that had taken care of them when they were young, and educated them, well for me good thing i didn't go to it .
Lion turned off the alarm and muttered, "I don't want to hear that noise anymore," but the alarm sounded like a loud chicken screaming with stomach trouble.
After a while, Lion left.
Anazitis just woke up, forgetting everything about his plan. He looked at the watch—10 AM—and his eyes widened in shock. Damn, too late. Lion, you're going to regret it. My little chicken didn't scream, he muttered. Then he snapped awake, hurriedly saying, "It's time for the material. I need to go."
The air inside was still, carrying the musty scent of old wood. Sunlight filtered through thin curtains, painting stripes of gold across worn floorboards. Stretching, Anazitis muttered to himself.
Quickly preparing, he stepped outside and was greeted by the city's bustling energy. Vendors shouted over one another, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony. The rich aroma of baked bread and spices drifted through the air as every merchant tried to outshout the other. Nearby, children played, their laughter mingling with the metallic tang of the city.
"Welcome, traveler!" a merchant shouted, but Anazitis wove through the crowd in a hurry, hearing nothing.
As he moved away from the lively city center, the environment shifted. Paved roads gave way to uneven cobblestones, and the cheerful chatter faded into uneasy silence—like light disappearing into darkness. The buildings grew less refined, some little more than skeletal wood and stone structures. The air was heavier here, laced with grime, neglect, and silent anger.
Anazitis stopped as he entered a narrow, grimy street. The stench of mildew and rotting garbage filled his nostrils, and water dripped from broken gutters, forming stagnant puddles on cracked ground. Shadows cast by half-built structures stretched unnaturally, wrapping the alley in a sense of foreboding.
From those shadows, strange men emerged, their eyes glinting with greed and malice. The weight of their stares was palpable—a silent declaration of intent.
A gaunt man stepped forward, face twisted into a mocking grin. He held a dagger loosely, its jagged edge catching dim light.
"Well, look at this," he sneered, voice sharp and grating. "Fresh meat. Easy money. Our breakfast is here, boys. Hand over your money, and maybe we won't make your face look more different than it already is. You'll need time to recover. What do you boys think?"
Snickers erupted from the other shadowy men, their confidence boosted by their leader's bravado.
Anazitis didn't respond. Calm, a slight smile playing on his lips, his gaze distant. He looked past the man, as if they didn't exist—his eyes fixed on the crumbling wall behind them. I just don't care much, he thought.
"It's obvious you should choose your targets better. Didn't you ever hear? Don't steal from travelers and adventurers—they have nothing, or they'll wipe you out."
The man's grin faltered, replaced by unease. "What's the matter, huh? Scared now you're talking too much?" His voice wavered, but he raised the dagger and lunged.
The blade struck Anazitis's chest with a metallic clang, echoing through the alley. The man stumbled back, eyes wide.
"What the...?" he muttered, staring at his blade as if it had betrayed him.
He lashed out again, strikes growing faster and more desperate. Each time, the dagger met the same resistance—Anazitis's body felt like unmoving steel. The man's breathing grew ragged; his attacks faltered.
"What are you? You're one of those soul users. You people are..." His voice trembled until it vanished into silence.
Anazitis finally spoke, voice low and cold. "Are you done? I'm not your training toy." His tone mixed pity with disdain. "Strange what life does to people, isn't it? That's why you're here—you lost everything, didn't you? Probably lost even on glamping."
The man's dagger slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. He staggered back, then said, "Have a good day, sir. We won't bother you more—we just thought..." Before they disappeared into the shadows, one muttered, "I've never tried to do this to adventurers before."
Anazitis turned to a nearby wall, narrowing his gaze on a faint shimmer where the bricks rippled like water.
"Still keeping yourself amused with these games, aren't you?" he said sharply.
A deep, amused chuckle echoed from the wall.
"Anazitis," a disembodied voice teased, dripping with mockery. "It's been a while, friend."
"Not long enough," Anazitis muttered. "Stop wasting my time and hand over the materials. I have more important things to do than chat."
"Always so serious. I'm sure you just overslept on an important day for the mission," the voice teased. A small bag emerged from the shimmering bricks, landing at Anazitis's feet. "Don't forget to visit, my friend. We have much to discuss. I did your work for you—I knew you'd be late. Hurry, you need to be there before midday. The meeting's been delayed an hour; it's now at 3 PM."
"Sure," Anazitis replied flatly, picking up the bag. Without another word, he turned and headed toward the forest.
As soon as he exited the alley and reached the city's edge, Anazitis activated his aura. A soft, ethereal glow enveloped him, shaping into the form of a fox. The translucent tails flicked behind him as his speed increased twentyfold. The world blurred as he darted toward the forest.
The forest greeted him in stark contrast. Damp, cool air carried the earthy scent of moss and wet leaves. Towering trees wove a dense canopy overhead, blocking most sunlight. Shadows danced on the ground, shifting with the faint breeze.
As he ventured deeper, silence grew oppressive. Distant birds fell silent; only faint rustling of unseen creatures remained. The ground was uneven, covered in thick fallen leaves and tangled roots.
Eventually, he reached a clearing where screaming mushrooms grew—grotesque and bulbous, pale gray caps marred by thin vein-like patterns pulsing faintly. Each trembled as if alive, emitting soft, almost imperceptible whimpers.
Kneeling beside them, Anazitis inspected their delicate forms. "Thanks to the academy books, I know exactly what to do," he murmured, pulling out the bag.
With careful precision, he coated the mushrooms in shimmering powders and viscous liquids. The substances seeped into their porous surfaces.
"On anger, not again! You weird mushrooms—don't sell me out. You're not little babies," Anazitis muttered.
As he worked, the mushrooms began to emit low, guttural sounds, their tremors intensifying.
The moment he lit the first mushroom, a high-pitched wail tore through the air. It wasn't just a sound—it was a visceral force, rattling his bones and reverberating through the clearing. The mushroom shriveled in flames, its spores bursting into a cloud of dark, shimmering particles.
The fire that erupted was otherworldly. Black as the void, it twisted and writhed like a living thing, devouring the light. The clearing darkened, the cold flames casting an eerie, lifeless glow.
"These things are remarkable," Anazitis muttered, watching the black fire spread from mushroom to mushroom. The flames crawled across the ground, licking tree trunks and branches, setting the forest ablaze in a wave of black.
After almost an hour, the screaming intensified as the fire consumed more mushrooms. Their cries were a mixture of agony and fury, echoing through the forest. The once tranquil space became a chaotic symphony of destruction; the black flames spread like a living entity.
"It's hurting anyway. It's just fake," Anazitis said. "The night will show some fear when they discover it. By then, it'll be too late."
"Well, let's go now," he added.
Elsewhere in the forest...
Amid the chaos, a figure emerged from the shadows of the burning woods. Dressed in a gleaming cloak, the Chaos Seeker moved with unearthly grace. His smile was sharp, jagged edges; his gauntlets etched with runes pulsed with dark energy.
Anazitis froze, narrowing his eyes as he watched the knight's deliberate movements. The Chaos Seeker seemed uncaring of the flames, radiating an aura of command. He searched—perhaps for something, or someone.
"Just bad luck," Anazitis muttered. "Or someone knows I'm here—another fourth party in the game. Things are getting more complicated than they need to be."
He reached into his bag, pulling out another screaming mushroom.
"If you're here, at least enjoy your meeting with the forest's guardians," he said, hurling one mushroom toward the knight's gate and another toward the Chaos Seeker to draw their attention.
The mushrooms exploded midair with a deafening screech and a thick cloud of spores. The knight hesitated, momentarily disoriented, as the forest seemed to awaken around him.
Using the distraction, Anazitis activated his fox aura again.
Time to get out before the fight begins.
The shimmering fox outline enveloped him; his speed multiplied as he darted deeper into the forest.
A faint smile played on his lips. "Let's hope that knight enjoys his little detour. I've got more important things to do. I'll say hi after I finish my plans. It's for your sake, my friend," he whispered with a smile.
Behind him, the black flames roared, their light and darkness slowly swallowed the forest. The battle between them would not come without cost. The knights watched the flames warily.