Descent

The Nathrezar Festival commemorated the day the Nathrezim finally ended their civil war and achieved unity under the leadership of the first Nathrezim lord, who had mastered the power of magic. Not only did this day hold great significance for Nathrezim civilization, but for this world as well. On this day, the three stars that illuminated it would miraculously align, making the world's energies exceptionally active at noon and space easier to connect.

"I have to say, this first lord really picked a fine day." As Vanidak advanced in repeated spatial flickers, carefully sensing the sudden changes around him, he praised, "Space has become so loose. Now this is a day chosen by a true professional. I have to say, this feels... fantastic."

Silver light flashed as Vanidak leaped forward at an eerie speed. His gaze remained fixed in one direction as he muttered:

"I was wondering why I sensed the aura of an old friend. Looks like I slept so long my memory has started to fade."

"Come to think of it, these old friends aren't exactly friendly fellows. They chatter all day long, enough to drive a Titan mad."

"After giving it some thought, no matter what my 'old friend' wants to do, I suppose I should..."

"Stop you."

At the first lord's summons, the already overwhelmed staff became even busier. After a series of adjustments, the high-ranking Nathrezim, each carrying out their respective duties, finally completed the last preparations before noon.

Looking up at the three blazing suns gradually converging overhead, the first lord at the center of the formation seemed to be listening to something. After standing silently for a moment, he replied in a low voice:

"Yes, my master. This will be the first step of your expedition."

"Oh, I merely wish to become one of your humble servants. The honor of opening your expedition has already overwhelmed me with gratitude."

"Oh, yes, yes, my master, please be patient." As the blazing suns finally overlapped, Trekzvis raised both hands above his head and shouted:

"Our age is about to descend!"

At the first lord's stirring roar, the Nathrezim elites around him began their movements. Streams of energy were enhanced and filtered through them before finally converging into the imposing figure atop the platform at the formation's center.

A massive magical pattern surged from Trekzvis's raised hands. Then a beam of light burst forth, shooting into the sky as though connecting to somewhere beyond. A violent shockwave followed, shaking the Nathrezim across the ground until they staggered unsteadily.

"Hold steady!" As he steadied himself, the second lord Kathanatir warned the others in the formation, "This is merely the normal turbulence caused by breaking through space to establish a connection!"

"But it's far too immense!" Tichondrius, who could barely stand against the "weak" spatial currents pouring from the rift, also shouted, "I have a bad feeling about this!"

"Don't say such discouraging things, Tichondrius!" The third lord Varimathras, struggling to maintain the magic circle at his position, shouted as well, "Do your job!"

"I can't hold on much longer!" Lothraxion suddenly cried from nearby. "There seems to be something within these spatial fluctuations! Oh my heavens, how much longer is this going to last?"

"Keep holding on! It should be ending soon! We're almost there!"

As cries of alarm and furious roars rose from all across the ground, Trekzvis, the first lord at the heart of the storm, reacted entirely differently. His expression was intoxicated, as though he had seen something irresistibly captivating, and he murmured:

"Oh, my master, your body is noble and pure. To become your subordinate is truly my honor. Now, I have made my choice."

"I shall offer you my most sincere... soul."

The words of a fanatic could not pierce the spatial storm around him. To the Nathrezim still struggling to hold on, the first lord appeared to be "strenuously" resisting the tempest of space and doing his utmost to sustain the ritual.

Just then, the fanatic at the ritual's center seemed to pause. He muttered to himself, "More is needed. This... isn't enough?"

"But this is already the utmost we can do, my master... You cannot..."

Suddenly, he shrieked like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "What? The souls of my people? This, this is impossible! My original intention was to save them! You can't do this! You promised me, we..."

At that moment, the first lord seemed like a different person. Trembling, he said, "You... who are you really? When did you blind my eyes and corrupt my soul? I... what am I doing... No... no!"

"Someone stop me!"

As though they had heard the first lord's frantic cries, the Nathrezim still struggling to maintain the ritual all turned toward the figure in the center of the formation.

Beyond the reach of their eyes, a dark purple gleam flashed through the first lord's upturned gaze. Then a black dot appeared within his pupils. Like ink dropped into water, it spread outward until it completely blackened his eyes.

The first lord, now wearing different-colored eyes, seemed to return to his previous state. In a hoarse, intermittent voice, he said, "Yes... my... master. Now, nothing... can... stop your..."

"Descent!"

"That is exactly why I hate you 'old friends.'" A voice suddenly sounded behind the first lord.

"You really are... irritating."

Just as he tried to turn around and locate the source of the voice, silver light flashed, followed by the sound of a blade piercing flesh.

"Pfft."

The Nathrezim watching the center of the formation suddenly saw a hooded figure in a white robe covered with strange patterns appear behind their "great" first lord. The next instant, a completely black long blade sprang from the figure's arm and stabbed into the other's lower back.

The sudden development drew cries of alarm from the onlookers. Tichondrius, captain of the elite guard and the quickest to react, roared, "Guards! Stop him!"

Yet no one could respond. The guards, bitterly suppressed by the spatial storm, had the will but not the strength to fulfill their leader's command. They could only watch helplessly as the assailant placed his arm on their first lord's shoulder.

"This... cannot... stop me." The first lord who had been stabbed in the back seemed to feel nothing. With faint mockery in his tone, he said, "Weak... powerless. You cannot even... kill... the original owner... of this body."

"Oh? Is that so?" Hearing the target he had stabbed still mocking him, Vanidak seemed to have found a worthy opponent after so long without indulging his true nature. He smiled and replied:

"Are you sure?"

"I haven't..."

"Pulled it..."

"Out yet..."

Before his words had even faded, the arm that had delivered the shameless backstab thrust upward, then decisively yanked back. At the end, he murmured, "Master technique: kidney stab!"

"Meaningless words and actions. How could it possibly... how... could it possibly!!!"

As though he had seen something horrifying, the first lord who had been shamelessly stabbed in the kidney suddenly seemed to lose all strength. He collapsed backward onto the ground and screamed at the culprit behind it all:

"This... is impossible! My power comes from the great lord! How could a weak mortal like you harm my noble and pure body? This... no... no... impossible..."

Watching the first lord lose all breath after one impotent roar, a soft chuckle came from beneath the hood.

"Noble and pure? You really made me laugh. It has been so long since I saw my old friends, and they've become more and more... interesting. Hahaha."

Vanidak stood quietly in place, looking up at the rift above that was gradually dispersing without guidance, then at the Nathrezim charging toward him with furious roars now that the spatial storm had weakened. He muttered to himself:

"My blade pierces souls. How could a lowly servant like you understand?"

Then he looked toward the approaching Nathrezim and called out:

"Please remain calm, everyone. I am no hero. I am merely an assassin wearing a hidden blade."

"Though I saved your world, please control yourselves when meeting a celebrity."

"I have plenty of time to sign autographs for you."

"Kill him! He destroyed our future!" Enraged by the mysterious figure's words atop the platform, Kathanatir roared, "Kill this bastard! I'll tear out his soul and torture it!"

Following the second lord's roar, the Nathrezim around him charged even faster, shouting, "Kill him!" "Rip out his soul and grind it to dust!" "I'll cut off his head and make it into a wine cup!"

"Oh, these fans really are passionate." After muttering that, Vanidak decided to activate his talent of run the moment things look bad. Then he sensed something and raised his head to look overhead.

The Nathrezim charging in fury were drawn by a massive explosion and all looked up.

The spatial rift that had been about to close was suddenly torn apart by a huge dark hand. Accompanied by a thunderous howl of pain, a stream of black energy shot into the first lord's corpse beside Vanidak. Just as Vanidak sensed danger and tried to cut off the energy, something even larger passed through the nearly sealed spatial rift.

The spatial rift closed, but the sky did not clear. The Nathrezim who had been charging seemed to have forgotten how to make a sound. They all stopped, staring blankly at the enormous black shadow overhead.

Vanidak glanced at the thing above, then turned to sense the corpse beside him, which was continuously trembling and erupting with dark energy. In a helpless tone, he said to the corpse:

"So this is amusing enough for you to pay such a steep price just to enter this place?"

"I never expected to meet you here, old friend."

"And..."

"Now things really are getting a little troublesome..."