Qin Luo stared at the knight, her eyes cold and piercing. She regarded him murderously, her gaze promising swift retribution for discovering her inhumane actions.
"Forgive . I swear I won’t tell anyone," the knight pleaded for his life, his voice trembling. He stared at Qin Luo in wide-eyed horror and fear, hands raised in desperate supplication.
"I know. I will make sure of it," Qin Luo said with chilling coldness. In a blur of motion, she threw a sharp, pointed needle hidden within her sleeve.
The needle pierced the throat of the knight with deadly precision, piercing his carotid artery. Blood sprayed in a warm arc as he clutched at the wound, collapsing lifelessly to the floor in a matter of heartbeats.
With the knight dead, Qin Luo closed her door with calm deliberation. She watched impassively as the jiangshi descended the hidden passageway that led to a secret tunnel.
The tunnel was a premade escape route, cleverly concealed from prying eyes. It was designed for rare events like this, monts where escape from the castle was the only path to survival, winding deep beneath the foundations into unknown darkness.
After the last of the jiangshi had vanished through the passageway, Qin Luo followed after. Her steps were silent and composed, vanishing into the shadows without a backward glance.
---
[Quite the perfect way to draw attention to yourself,] the system comnted, its tone dripping with sarcastic amusent.
"Honestly. It beats any attention I will receive from control over ti or space. Truly, true art is an explosion," Aaron smiled, his eyes fixed on the inferno. He watched as the flas consud the palace with rapt fascination, the orange glow reflecting in his eager gaze.
"You bastard!" A roar from a man adorned in royal armor caught Aaron’s attention. The voice cut through the crackling chaos like a blade.
Behind the man were legions of knights, neatly lined in perfect military formation. Their armor glinted under the firelight, shields raised and spears at the ready, a wall of disciplined steel.
"Oh. Our guest arrives," Aaron smiled, staring at the legion standing across from him. His expression was one of delighted welco, as if greeting old friends.
"You bastard. Who are you?! How dare you destroy my castle," Desirus roared, his rage threatening to devour everything in its path. His face was a mask of fury, fists clenched at his sides.
"I’m destruction itself," Aaron replied to the roar of Desirus, his voice calm and mocking, echoing with confident finality.
"Take him down and see to it that he suffers most miserably for his actions," Desirus commanded the knights. He retreated to the back, his steps heavy with arrogant confidence in his knights’ inevitable triumph.
"And now he turns his back at ," Aaron smiled, spreading his hands open wide. A spark of amusent danced in his eyes.
From his hands, butterflies made from red flas were created. They fluttered into existence, delicate wings shimring with crimson fire, beautiful yet ominously alive.
Aaron released the butterflies into the air. The harmless-looking creatures flew gracefully through the smoky sky toward the knights, leaving trails of sparkling embers in their wake.
The knights at the forefront stared at the spectacle, unsure of the purpose of the butterflies. Confusion etched their faces as the ethereal insects approached.
One of the knights, fascinated by the butterflies, stretched his hand forward. One of the delicate creatures perched lightly on his outstretched fingers, its wings folding gently.
"Aarghhhh!!!!" The knight scread, but only for so agonizing seconds.
The mont he ca in contact with the butterfly, he was engulfed completely by it. The red flas erupted outward, burning him to a crisp in an instant—flesh charring, armor lting, leaving only a blackened husk crumbling to ash.
The rest of the knights stared at the scene with shock and fear written on their faces. Their eyes widened in terror, breaths catching in their throats.
"Don’t just stand there! Take the fire out!!!" One of the generals in command, Rufus, ordered the knights closest to him. His voice cracked with authority, trying to instill order amid the panic.
The knights with water elent affinity released harmless swings of their swords. Arcs of shimring water slashed through the air from their blades.
The water splashed onto the burning knight’s body, hissing on contact in futile attempts to quench the flas.
The water had no effect on the flas, though. They burned with the sa unrelenting intensity, defying nature’s balance.
"Sir! The flas—"
"I know. They can’t be extinguished. He wields eternal flas," the general said calmly, a cold look settling on his face. He masked his inner turmoil with stoic resolve.
But amidst that cold gaze was one of reluctant admiration for Aaron’s terrifying power.
"Do not allow his flas to so much as make contact with you. Advance and see to it he falls!" The general commanded after regaining his composure, his voice steady and commanding.
The knights stood still for a while, unsure of how to follow the general’s command. Doubt flickered in their eyes, the order seeming contradictory and perilous.
How was it possible to avoid the flas and at the sa ti ensure Aaron fell? It felt almost like an insurmountable task, a death sentence wrapped in duty.
"What are you all waiting for? Attack!" The general commanded again, his tone sharper, forcing the knights no further option but to advance. They charged forward with reluctant roars, steel clashing against the growing heat.
"I’m beginning to love this Primordial talent," Aaron smiled, a new form of flas materializing in his hand. The fire swirled with dark promise, eager for release.
[You were doing fine as well with your hell flas.]
"I had little comprehension and understanding of the flas. Now though, the flas feel like kin to . Watch the show from the back seat. I will show you what I can do."
"Alright, buddy. It’s ti for us to party," Aaron said, a broad smile lighting up his face, excitent bubbling in his veins.
The black band on his wrist,the black sphere, his ego weapon vibrated with joy. It humd with eager energy, transforming itself into a sleek, sharp sword. The blade erged perfectly weighted and balanced in Aaron’s hand, an extension of his will.
The black sphere was coated with flas. Unlike the white flas that burned and consud all things, these flas were colorless, nearly invisible to the eye—subtle wisps that danced without heat or light.
It was the flas that had no effect on the flesh or inanimate object. This fla was one that consud nothing but the soul of the wielder’s adversary—the soul fla, silent, insidious, and utterly devastating.
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