In the darkness, a young man stirred on his bed as he woke up from his sleep. “Ugh. How much longer am I going to be forced to stay at home? I’m even waking up in the middle of the night. Wait, this isn’t my room.” He said as he glanced around. He was still in his bed, but the room was foreign, mainly because the only light was coming through a door with a small barred window.
Just as he was about to panic, the door opened, and a peculiar woman entered who tossed a piece of paper at him. “If you don’t want to be tortured, I suggest you follow what is written on this.” She robotically said as she turned to leave.
“What the heck are you talking about? I’m not going to- *zap* Ouch!” He shouted as a magic circle appeared above his head, and a lightning bolt struck him. It was only then that his circumstance fully sunk in. With trembling hands, he picked up the paper and began to read. “The method of condensing a Soul Armament?”
...
“Finally done.” The young man said as he got her breath several hours later. On his hand was a small tree with several budding fruits. The entire process was strange to the young man who was not particularly gifted in any way, except that he had a unique Talent. He was about to experiment more with his new Soul Armament, but he was interrupted by the door opening again. This time, a man with a black dragon mask covering his face walked in instead of a woman.
The young man was stunned, and before he could react, the masked man grabbed the tree with one hand and his throat in the other. Terror overcame him. “But… But you said.” He began before the man started to squeeze his throat even tighter. Then, the young man’s eyes opened in shock as the connection between himself and the Tree Soul Armament was suddenly ripped from him. His body began to spasm as his eyes rolled up in the back of his head in sheer pain. Only after several seconds did he stop and desperately gasp for breath, allowed because the man had loosened his grip. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?”
The masked man sneered. “With all the evil you have committed, don’t you think it’s simply karma?”
The young man panicked as he stared into the glowing eyes that seemed to penetrate his soul. “I never wanted to do anything bad! I was just a normal farmer’s son and was forced into it!”
“Perhaps. But I’m sure the women you’ve raped, the people you’ve killed, and the people you forced into slavery with your Talent are the real victims, wouldn’t you say?” “But I…” The youth began before he stopped as he watched the Tree Soul Armament that had given him so much hope was suddenly absorbed into the man’s hand. Anger, frustration, and unwillingness filled him. “Why? Why me?”
For the first time, the masked man’s expressionless eyes appeared to have a hint of disdain. “You aren’t the only one. Nearly the entire filth from the Port of Sin is in a similar situation as you. Although, your situation is a bit unique as it will be more painful than the others.”
Then, the youth’s eyes bulged open as he felt his entire body being pulled into the hand affixed to his throat. “Why?” He weakly said as he felt the life drain from his body.
“Because of what you did to a golden kitsune.”
The last thought that went through the youth’s mind was a surprisingly well-remembered image of a weak golden kitsune on a simple raft.
“Bummer. I didn’t get the Talent.” The masked man mumbled as he dropped the weathered husk of the man on the floor. [Still, for him to have such a similar Soul Armament to the Talent makes me wonder just how depraved this man was.] Martel thought as he removed the mask that had become uncomfortable, revealing dark circles under his eyes.
“Master, this one recommends you rest, and this one does not believe killing so much to be good for your mental health,” Anna said from outside the cell.
“There’s not much I can do about that.” Martel shook his head before he began to think. [I cannot deny how powerful destiny is, given how powerful my party ended up being. Nearly every soul Armament and Talent I run across is complete trash, though that might be because the people there are from are also trash. Besides, the facilities still aren’t sufficient for the number of prisoners.] Martel rubbed his eyes. “The SRIN used to construct the circles should have reached the City of Sin by now. How long until all is ready?”
“One day to set up and two days for analysis to ensure the maximum number of prisoners.”
“Understood. Then I don’t have much time to waste.” Martel replied as he re-affixed his mask and confirmed the next cell that contained a prisoner who had finished forming their soul armament.
…
A fat man stirred within the City of Sin in the City Lord’s mansion. His eyes blinked open and adjusted to the moonlight that spilled into the room. To his side lay a woman who had cried herself to sleep in the fetal position. The fat man smiled as he glanced at her and prepared to leave the bed. Just as he did, the floor around him began to glow.
Suddenly terrified and acting out of reflex, the fat man moved at a speed that a man a third of his weight would’ve been impressed by. He broke into a cold sweat as the bed he had just laid upon suddenly disappeared. Taking it as a dream, he pinched his waist, only to pinch harder when he felt nothing due to his excessive fat. Once he confirmed he was not dreaming, he quickly took off until full sprint through the corridors. Given the noise he was making, he fully expected to see other people awake but saw none except for the occasional patrol.
Finally, the fat man reached the depths of the large building in front of two large doors. Bent over and panting heavily from the exertion he was unaccustomed to doing, he glanced at the door with trepidation.
“What do you want, you fat oaf.” A deep and angry voice suddenly asked from within the doors.
The man broke into a cold sweat for the second time, but it was even more violent. “I have an urgent report.” He replied with a substantial voice crack.
From deep within the room, there was a snort. Then, violently, the door swung open and revealed a man. He was handsome, appeared in his early 20s, and had striking purple hair that nearly matched the purple of his clothes. To most, he would appear to be a Dampier, but the fact that his eyes were also purple and not human-shaped betrayed that he wasn’t. “What?” He asked, clearly displeased by the interruption.
The fat man’s face paled, and his eyes closed as the air within the room stung his face. The scent of herbs, both pleasant and putrid, assaulted his senses. “My Lord, the bed I was sleeping on has disappeared through some strange magic. If not for my quick reaction time, I believe I would’ve gone with it.” She reported as he bowed his head low.
The purple-haired man cocked an eyebrow. “Is that the abundance of mana through the city I felt a minute ago?” He wondered aloud just as rushed footsteps came from behind the fat man. Instead of displeasure, the circumstances piqued the purple-haired man’s interest, and he patiently waited. Soon, a man from within the manner appeared, but more surprisingly, an exhausted runner from the Port of Sin was behind him.
The first man suddenly stopped and quickly bowed his head. “My Lord, many people have suddenly disappeared from within the manner along with their beds.”
“How many men?”
“Nearly every man who was asleep. Now only the night patrol remains.”
“Interesting. Some sort of space magic? They say only the Wand Heroes can reach such a level of teleportation magic, and then only rarely and not on this scale.” The purple-haired man replied, seemingly only slightly amused and not worried. The purple-haired man quickly broke out of his contemplation as he turned to the runner. “You’re a day late. Care to explain yourself?” He asked as the room and the temperature seemed to drop.
“I beg your forgiveness, my Lord. The port was locked down due to a reported theft. I snuck out as quickly as I could, and I was lucky to leave as many people suddenly went missing.”
“Interesting. It seems someone is determined to make a move against me. Tell me, have you heard from my son?”
“Lord, your son last checked in a week and a half ago and said he had found some interesting prey to hunt. He said he would return to you no later than three weeks from then.”
The purple-haired man nodded without a care in the world. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed, and he walked to a nearby window. His eyes were drawn toward the mountains as the morning sun’s light began to illuminate them. “Put everyone on full alert. If they can teleport our people out, they can probably teleport their people in.”
“Yes.” The fat man said as with about and began to retreat.
The purple-haired man looked as if he was going to speak again, but his serpentine eyes suddenly contracted as his vision focused on the sky.
Illuminated by the background sky, clouds started spinning directly above the city’s center, from which a translucent eye appeared. Then, from the pupil, something fell. A stream of white fire streaked down to the ground like water from heaven. It impacted the ground and quickly swept the entire city, ignoring the buildings. Everyone in the manner panicked as they were right in the center of it. However, aside from a slight burning sensation that permeated their entire body, there was little effect. Then, the men all looked at each other when they found a red balance scale imprinted on their foreheads. They instinctively knew the atrocities that they each had committed.
“My strength.” The purple-haired man muttered in shock as he sensed the situation within his body. He attempted to resist the fire by instinct, protecting himself with his mana and ki, but it did very little. His mind spun rapidly in surprise as he realized several things.
Firstly, it was holy magic, but one that caused a debuff even though that was attributed to curse magic. Secondly, the debuff was extremely limited in scope unless the affected person was drastically weaker than the caster. The purple-haired man also surmised that it likely has something to do with the evil deeds committed, evident by the balance scale. He was shocked that 13% of his strength had been sealed, though he felt that slowly lessening over time.
The purple-haired man’s face warped from surprise into fury. In his entire life, he had never been so insulted. In anger, he smashed his arm against the wall, which blew open. Two purple wings sprouted from his back before he took to the sky. His eyes quickly scanned the surrounding area, only to find a lock on into an area towards the mountains. With astonishing speed, he quickly made his way over. He stopped a few dozen yards away from a man sitting on a large rock gazing up towards the mountains as if leisurely watching the sunrise. The man was covered in black clothing and wore a black dragon mask. One of his eyes was closed as he appeared to be crying blood from it, the backlash of casting such a spell.
The purple-haired man looked at the masked man but did not make a move. He was not one to let anger consume him and was inherently cautious by nature. Such magic was utterly unheard of, and he didn’t even believe most high-tier magic could have such an effect.
The masked man noticed the purple-haired man’s arrival but did not move more than to adjust the metallic spear in his hand slightly.
The purple-haired man snorted, insulted by the masked man’s indifference. “Who are you to dare challenge me?” He asked.
The masked man smiled as he raised a hand to his closed eye with a flash of magic. Once he removed his hand, he revealed his eye. For a brief instant, a flame appeared in his eye. However, the masked man still didn’t change his gaze. “Forgive the extreme invitation. I just figured you would want to see your ‘sun.’”
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