A pivotal eting unfolded within one of the Wind clan’s largest halls, the atmosphere charged with an intensity that felt almost palpable.
The room exuded an elegance that starkly contrasted with the frigid, imposing stone chambers typical of the Earth Clan.
Crafted in a grand circular design, the entire space was hewn from pale green marble, its smooth surface catching the soft, flickering glow of the ethereal sky lanterns that floated gracefully overhead.
These lanterns cast a warm, enchanting light, illuminating every detail and creating a serene yet powerful ambiance.
The intricate patterns in the marble seed to dance in the light, adding an air of sophistication and tilessness to the gathering, while the hushed whispers of the attendees punctuated the charged silence, amplifying the significance of the mont.
Countless runes lined the walls and floors, pulsing faintly with wind-elent inscriptions—defensive arrays, scrying wards, soundproof barriers, and more. The entire chamber was alive with arcane force.
At the center stood an enormous round table, wide enough to seat hundreds, as if pulled straight from the pages of a knightly legend. This was no symbolic relic—it was a seat of power, filled with the heads of every clan beneath the Wind Clan’s banner.
And at the head of the table sat the Wind Clan Patriarch—Cassius.
With black flowing hair, Dressed in a knight’s tunic of deep erald green, his presence was regal yet sharp. The fabric shimred subtly, enchanted to resist both blade and magic.
At his waist hung a longsword, plain in design but undeniably ancient. The space around it warped slightly, as if rejecting reality itself. Those who dared to gaze at it too long felt their vision blur, like staring at the eye of a storm.
Cassius sat at the table, his arms resting gently on its surface, fingers intertwined in a relaxed embrace. His eyes were closed, the tension of the chaotic debate swirling around him seemingly forgotten as he found a mont of tranquility within the storm of voices.
" We must bolster our security at the borders!" a passionate voice insisted, eyes alight with urgency. "We need to reinforce the checkpoints—seal off the passageways and hunting trails. He could already be among us."
Another voice erupted in response, sharp and challenging, slicing through the fervor of the room. "And you plan to deplete our forces so recklessly?
Do you even comprehend the sheer magnitude of resources it would take to patrol every wall, every narrow path?"
The stakes in the air were palpable, a tension that crackled like electricity, but Cassius remained an island of calm amidst the rising tide of argunt.
"We can’t just send anyone out there! We don’t know who among us might already be working for the other Higher Clans! The walls are what keep our people safe, not reckless."
A wave of voices rose in support, but equally as many stood in opposition. So of the louder, more aggressive supporters of preemptive action were part of the Thunder War, as they had participated.
Their fear ca from knowing that they would be dead if Alex were able to kill Cassius.
So they wanted him captured before that.
But others demanded a controlled approach. To them, the worst enemy was disorder, not an assassin they hadn’t seen.
The grand hall erupted into a cacophony of voices, each clash of words punctuated by the sharp clinking of goblets against one another.
An electric tension filled the air, the palpable energy of latent power swirling around the room as attendees instinctively let their auras spill forth.
Heated debates escalated, simring on the brink of transforming into fierce duels, as heated stares and pointed gestures added to the boiling atmosphere.
And then—
Silence.
It was as if the air had been sucked from the room.
All eyes turned to the head of the table.
Cassius sat regally amid the surrounding turmoil. His presence was a profound contrast to the chaos that swirled around him; he remained motionless, as if he were a silent sentinel against the storm.
Cassius had not uttered a single word. Not once had he broken the peaceful cocoon he wrapped around himself.
His eyes were gently closed, and a serene rhythm to his breath suggested an unshakeable calm — a steadfast mountain standing firm in the eye of a hurricane.
But as silence reigned, his eyes opened.
Erald green. Cold. asured.
Eyes that had watched empires rise and fall.
And then he spoke — his voice resonant, clear, carrying the tone of a knight who had seen too much blood to raise his blade without purpose.
"You are all overlooking sothing."
He stood slowly, his hand resting gently on the poml of his sword, yet no one dared flinch.
"Instead of wasting resources. Instead of debating panic or discipline. Why don’t we simply... leave it to the Guild?"
The entire hall blinked in unison.
A stunned silence followed, one that bordered on embarrassnt. Dozens of council mbers exchanged looks — how had none of them thought of that?
Cassius’ eyes narrowed.
"Send a bounty. A mission. Let the Guild hunt him. We all know this boy isn’t one that common sense can asure — not with a beast of Legend Rank beside him. But the Guild doesn’t need logic. It needs incentive."
He raised a single hand.
"We’re placing a bounty so outrageous, it might even entice the very shadows to slink out of their hiding places in pursuit," Cassius declared, his voice echoing off the stone walls of the dimly lit chamber. "In that chaos, soone will inevitably locate him. Whether he’s breathing or cold in the grave, it matters not."
A heavy silence enveloped the room, thick and suffocating.
It wasn’t that anyone found themselves in agreent; rather, the weight of dissent hung heavily in the air, stifled by the oppressive presence of Cassius of the Wind. Here, in the heart of the guild’s clandestine operations, voicing a different opinion was simply not an option.
Moreover, the intricacies of the plan effectively addressed their primary concern, as the guild operated with precise control and discipline.
With that finality, the eting concluded without further discussion. The command was clear and unmistakable. Outside, the intricate chanisms of the world began to churn once more, heralding the approach of a brewing storm that promised upheaval on the horizon.
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