The boss watched Zephyr for a while, scribbling down sothing on a piece of paper. Then, ignoring what a Power Ranger was, he gave the letter to his subordinate.
"You should leave. Go and deliver this letter personally to the base."
The subordinate accepted the letter and nodded.
"What are you planning to do, boss?"
"I will be keeping an eye on him." The boss, the man with the scar, kept his eyes fixed on Zephyr.
"Okay. Then, I am leaving." The man stood up to leave. "Keep yourself safe. Last ti, I had to sew your back together. Don’t die," the subordinate said in a half-joking manner.
The scar-faced man frowned. Lifting his foot, he kicked the back of the man lightly, motioning for him to leave.
The subordinate laughed, his body flickering as he ran away stealthily.
Zephyr, who was far away from the duo, failed to notice anything.
’Any second now, he will sense the resonance mark of The Order.’
The scar-faced man sighed.
He had been following Zephyr since he t him on Viscount Whitewater’s fief. Even when the troll attacked their carriage, and when the carriage driver attacked Zephyr, he was stealthily monitoring everything from the shadows.
He was waiting to see if the sacred mask truly accepted him. Now, with the armour erging from his body, he was sure of it.
The young mage, Zephyr, has the sacred mask of the Order with him.
The mask had gone missing with its previous wielder. Now, it returned with a new wielder.
’The mask chose a mage this ti. That’s interesting.’
He watched Zephyr closely.
The young mage was standing near the dungeon entrance, wearing the first form of the armour. He was jumping, stretching, kicking—testing his limits.
’It must be his first ti activating the armour. He looks like he doesn’t know anything about it.’
’Did Gale not teach him anything?’ the man wondered.
The previous owner of the mask, Sir Gale, was a master knight known for his high-speed aerial combat. He was a legendary figure who could go toe-to-toe against master mages. He was also a great leader and hero of many.
Even now, the Order has no clue as to why he suddenly disappeared or what happened to him. Watching Zephyr test out the armour, an urge to ask these questions sprouted in the scar-faced man’s face.
At least, Zephyr must know sothing about him, right? he thought.
’It’s ti for to et him. But before that...’
The scar-faced man’s lips curled up.
’...let’s see what he is truly made of.’
The wielder of the sacred mask has the heavy responsibility of leading the Order. He wanted to see what Zephyr would do when push cos to shove.
His eyes followed Zephyr’s figure.
Now that his cohort was trapped within the dungeon, will he abandon them, or will he save them?
He watched intently.
Saving them did not really matter. But what choice he makes and whether he would even try does.
The leader of the order was always selected by the mask. It has a will of its own. The power of a mask cannot be passed down if the mask resists. Which ans the mask selected Zephyr on its own.
The armour that activated was proof. Which also ans Zephyr was a good enough person.
Still, everyone would have so skepticism regarding the capabilities of the new leader. To clear everyone’s doubt... To clear his own doubts, he would have to see what he does.
Though he had heard what Zephyr had done in the seaside village, he had to see it to believe it.
—-
Zephyr tested out the armour a few more tis before approaching the dungeon entrance.
The armour was steadily consuming a small amount of mana whenever he took an action beyond his ability. The enhancing effect was certainly not free. However, the protection it offered was.
Unless he explicitly ordered the armour to disappear, it would stick to his body. Which ans, even without consuming mana, it would stay over his body, protecting him from danger.
That was great to know.
The last thing he wanted was the armour disappearing when he was exhausted.
Now, in a good mood, he happily strolled forward, closer to the dungeon, ready to dive down.
There was about a fifty-fifty chance of survival. All the brain cells he had were screaming to turn back and leave.
Still, he walked forward.
The scar-faced man watched him and smiled.
At least, the person the mask chose was not a coward. He didn’t abandon his people. Which ans he was trustworthy.
The man nodded.
At the sa ti, Zephyr approached the edge of the dungeon entrance. The bottomless pit before him had taken on a dark aura. A chill spread over his body, making him tremble slightly.
"Let’s do this."
Mustering his strength, Zephyr took a step into the air. There was nothing below. His feet tilted, his body falling with it.
Montarily, he felt weightless. He wanted to enjoy the feeling for a few more seconds.
However, he swiftly snapped himself out of the thought, moving his hands to the smooth, stone-like inner wall of the pit.
His hand lightly touched the smooth surface, digging into the stone a little, slowing his body.
Fortunately, it worked.
He didn’t know how deep the hole was. So, he was thrilled to see his body slow down.
However, before he could be fully relieved, a dark aura covered him, blocking all light reaching his eyes. The world turned dark.
Zephyr took a deep breath, touching the stone wall slipping under his fingers.
Because of the armour, there was no pain. Only a bit of warmth due to friction flowed into his fingertips.
"I need to brace for impact and wait," Zephyr said to himself, tightening his leg muscles a little.
One. Two. Three...
A couple of seconds passed by. With each passing second, his nerves tightened. The anticipation of touching the ground was gnawing at his mind.
The speed at which he was falling after breaking his fall was still greater than he expected.
Zephyr curled his fingers, grasping at the wall. His legs joined, anchoring his body against the wall. But the stone kept on crumbling under his fingers, not allowing him to fully stop his fall.
’How long do I need to...’
Zephyr clenched his butt, tightened his core, and pressed himself against the wall.
’I should have thought twice about it. If I had a parachute, it would have been great. Mask, can liquid tal morph to make a parachute?’
He jokingly thought.
Suddenly, Zephyr felt his body jerk upwards. The sudden strain on his back, behind his shoulder blade, caught him off guard.
His body slowed down. The noise of the wind decreased. He felt heavier.
"Huh!" Zephyr exclaid.
He lifted the dangling arm and slowly raised it above his head.
The sudden force pulled him off the wall. Even then, his body had slowed considerably.
Blindly, he tapped over his shoulder, trying to figure out what just happened.
"Huh!"
This ti, he was really surprised. There, above his shoulder, he could feel a tallic attachnt.
A wavy-textured tal pole was moving up over his head. He felt like he was dangling from it vertically.
"Did it create a parachute?"
He imagined it, and the armour morphed into sothing akin to a parachute!
Which ans the armour can morph into things. It can understand him. More importantly, it can read his thoughts.
The implications frightened him.
His body was a temple. But his mind was the filthiest thing to ever exist. Too many dirty thoughts fly around it daily.
Could the armour have heard it all?
He panicked.
Then, thinking for a second, he cald down. It’s not like he cares.
It was shaful, yes. But he had thick skin. The thickness of his skin was comparable to that of a rhinoceros.
A little humiliation would not kill him.
The fall could have.
The mask saved him from a lot of trouble.
A little humiliation was worth it.
’Mask. Thanks.’
He thought before his body collided with the inner wall of the pit. Zephyr latched onto it once again, slowing his body further.
A few seconds later, Zephyr finally reached the ground.
"Plop."
He landed in the water.
"Gasp."
Zephyr would have drunk a few mouthfuls if not for the armour blocking the water.
He felt his body sinking and imagined a flipper. In the darkness, he felt the armour morph, giving him flippers and webbed fingers. At the sa ti, the armour thinned over his body, decreasing in weight.
Gasping for air, he swam upwards.
It was impossible to see where he was going. Still, he desperately clawed at the water, swimming higher and higher.
Two more seconds later, he popped his head out, taking a deep breath.
It was still dark.
The dungeon had no light within.
[Light]
He cast a simple light spell, throwing it far away to a side.
The wisp of light he threw flew over to a rock wall, sticking to it.
Zephyr stabilized his body on the water, turning to look towards it. He wanted to quickly grasp his situation.
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