The sun filtered through the forest canopy, casting flickering shadows across the scorched clearing. The silence was unsettling, broken only by the occasional crackle of smoldering branches and the low whistle of wind weaving between the trees.
In the center of it all lay Zigrane.
His clothes were torn and burned in several places, his face streaked with soot and blood. His chest barely moved—slow, shallow breaths the only sign that he was still alive. His body was curled slightly, as if trying to protect itself even in unconsciousness. The ground beneath him was blackened, scarred by the intensity of the magic that had just moments ago erupted in the clearing.
Across from him stood the cloaked man—Billy's mysterious companion.
He was calm, unmoved, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood. Wisps of smoke rose gently from his outstretched hand before he slowly lowered it, letting the last remnants of heat fade from his fingers.
He stared at Zigrane's unmoving form for a moment, his head tilting ever so slightly.
"Hmph," he muttered under his breath. "I thought you'd be more interesting."
There was no satisfaction in his voice—only disappointment. His stance was relaxed now, bored even. He turned away slowly, letting out a quiet sigh.
He gave one last glance over his shoulder.
"Shame."
With that, he walked into the forest, disappearing once again into the shadows.
The clearing fell silent.
Zigrane lay still, smoke curling softly from the edges of his clothing.
The forest held its breath.
The stillness of the forest was suddenly disturbed by the thunder of footsteps. Leaves rustled violently and branches snapped as teams sprinted through the trees, all converging in the direction from which Zigrane's scream had echoed.
"We have to hurry!" Felix shouted over his shoulder, pushing through a dense thicket with Elaira right behind him.
"I know!" she replied. "It didn't sound good. We're wasting time talking—just move!"
Elsewhere, Erdan and Akatsuki ran side by side, both focused and silent, their breathing steady despite the pace.
"He's in trouble," Erdan finally muttered.
"Then we get there before it's too late," Akatsuki answered, his eyes scanning the surroundings as they leapt over a fallen log.
Katsu and Renald weren't far behind. Katsu's expression remained unreadable, but his speed was unwavering. Renald, on the other hand, was tense and grim.
"If that idiot got himself killed, it's on him," Renald growled. "But we'll deal with whoever did it."
Ralph and Rob advanced quickly as well, eyes sharp, movements efficient.
"Zigrane or not," Ralph muttered, "we need to see what happened."
Rob nodded. "Let's hope we're not too late."
Each team surged forward with urgency, cutting through the undergrowth, following instinct and the remnants of magical energy that lingered in the air.
At the same time, back in the quiet of the village clearing, the elder stood still, gazing into the distance.
He exhaled slowly, eyes narrowing.
"Looks like we have visitors," he said to himself. "Well, that's even better—let them taste real battle. However, the risk of someone dying is real. That means I must go there myself."
He adjusted his cloak, took a final look at the horizon, and began walking toward the hidden sphere's location. His steps were unhurried, yet there was weight in them—a calm force ready to intervene.
The wind rustled through the leaves.
The forest, once again, braced itself.
At the edge of the clearing, where the scorched ground still smoked faintly and Zigrane's unconscious body lay unmoving, two teams arrived almost at the same time. Their members—unfamiliar, unnamed—halted in their tracks, startled by the scene before them.
"What happened here?" one voice asked, bewildered.
"Is he... dead?" another muttered, eyeing Zigrane warily.
Their gazes shifted to the glowing sphere still resting near the twisted roots. Tension rose between the two teams as they realized what was at stake.
"We saw it first," one of them said sharply. "Back off."
"No way," came the reply. "We're taking it. Finders keepers."
The argument escalated quickly, voices rising, tempers flaring—until a sudden movement silenced them all.
From the shadows at the edge of the clearing, the cloaked figure returned.
He stepped out slowly, his presence immediately suffocating. The teams turned toward him, eyes wide.
"Who are you?" one of them demanded.
The figure said nothing.
He just stood there, silent, his hood concealing his face, the tension around him almost unbearable.
The teams exchanged uneasy glances. The forest seemed to grow quieter, as if watching what would happen next.