OPEN SIGNUPS | The Age of Scarred Monarchs | IC

Minarawr · Dec 17, 2024

In a world forever scarred by the devastating dimensional wars between the Monarchs and Rulers, Earth stands battered yet unyielding. The portals known as Gates continue to open, unleashing monstrous forces onto the planet, but without a Shadow Monarch to stand against the tide, humanity has been left to fend for itself. Nations once united against common threats now struggle with internal conflicts, torn apart by political greed and rivalry. The world teeters on the edge, yet humanity persists, driven by an unrelenting will to survive and the strength of its hunters.

In the shadows, however, a far more insidious force stirs. Arachne, the Weaver Monarch, pulls at the very fabric of reality. With her Loom of Realities, she binds the world's ley lines, manipulating the threads of fate itself. Through her twisted hybrids—creatures born of mana and the broken remnants of fallen Monarchs—Arachne's influence spreads, infiltrating both the Gates and the human societies struggling to hold on. As the boundaries between worlds grow thinner, the web she spins threatens to reshape Earth's future.

As agents of the remaining global factions, you are tasked with confronting the ever-growing threat of the Gates and the hybrid forces of Arachne. While humanity's survival hangs in the balance, your missions take you deep into the heart of the conflict: infiltrating hostile territories, hunting monsters, uncovering dark secrets, and confronting the web of lies and manipulation that threatens to unravel the very fabric of reality.

You must navigate a fractured world where alliances are fragile, and the line between friend and foe blurs. Your choices will shape not only your fate, but the future of Earth itself. Will you fight to protect humanity's last hope, or will the darkness cast by the Monarchs consume all? The threads of destiny are in your hands.
The Age of Scarred Monarchs is a roleplay set within a fractured world, shaped by the aftermath of the catastrophic wars between the Monarchs and Rulers. The narrative is structured around a series of distinct story arcs, each one designed to gradually reveal more about the world, the characters, and the dark forces at play. As the players progress through each arc, they will face increasing challenges, uncover hidden truths about the Monarchs, and be forced to make pivotal choices that will directly impact the fate of Earth.

Arc Structure and Progression

Each story arc is more than just a sequence of events—it is an opportunity for players to explore different aspects of the world and engage with its complex, morally gray themes. The arcs are meant to challenge not only the characters' physical abilities but also their principles, beliefs, and relationships with other factions and individuals.

The arcs are designed to escalate in intensity, with each one revealing more about the overarching narrative of the Age of Scarred Monarchs. Players will find themselves navigating not only the chaotic remnants of war but also the ongoing struggle for power between factions vying for control. These arcs will evolve in both scope and complexity, offering a range of experiences:
1. The Early Acts – Players will start by facing tangible, immediate threats like hybrid creatures, unstable Gates, and corrupted guilds. These arcs will introduce key factions, establish motivations, and test the party's ability to act as a cohesive unit under pressure.
2. Mid-Game Arcs – As the players grow in power and knowledge, they will face more intricate conflicts. These arcs will focus on uncovering the truth behind the mysterious forces manipulating events, including the rise of Arachne, the Weaver Monarch. The players may uncover disturbing secrets about the Monarchs, Rulers, and their long-standing war, while also exploring the fractured alliances between the surviving factions. Here, they will make difficult choices that will affect not only their futures but the world's stability.
3. Endgame Arcs – In the final stages of the roleplay, the players will confront the most dangerous and complex challenges. The stakes will be higher, the risks more dire, and the choices more consequential. The looming presence of Arachne and her plan to manipulate reality itself will test the players' resolve. As they approach the ultimate showdown, they will be forced to make decisions that could reshape Earth's future, determining whether it will remain free from the influence of the Monarchs—or if it will fall under their rule once again.
The setting of The Age of Scarred Monarchs takes place on a post-war Earth, deeply scarred by the devastating conflicts between the Monarchs and Rulers. These ancient, god-like beings waged a war that tore through the fabric of reality, leaving behind a world that continues to struggle with the aftermath. Though the dimensional wars have ended, their legacy lingers in the form of dangerous portals, twisted creatures, and an Earth struggling to find peace in the wake of so much destruction.

The Gates

The Gates are the remnants of the war's destructive energy—mysterious portals that connect Earth to other dimensions. Once used by the Monarchs and Rulers to wage their wars, the Gates now stand as both a curse and a necessity. While they allow interdimensional trade and exploration, they also open the way for monstrous forces to invade, destabilizing Earth's fragile ecosystems and threatening humanity's very existence. These portals constantly shift and flicker, often opening to unexpected dimensions, where both familiar threats and unimaginable horrors await.

Hunters and Guilds

In the aftermath of the war, humanity's only defense against these interdimensional threats are the Hunters—elite warriors who have awakened powerful abilities known as "Skills." These abilities allow Hunters to confront the creatures that emerge from the Gates, but it is not without great risk. Hunters belong to guilds, organizations that vary in size, scope, and influence. Some guilds are small, local operations, while others are powerful, global forces that hold sway over the politics of Earth itself.

Guilds play a significant role in the world's defense. They are not just mercenary factions; they also provide training, resources, and a sense of community for Hunters. These guilds often have their own agendas, with some focused purely on profit, while others are motivated by a desire to protect humanity from the ever-growing tide of threats. Some guilds even manipulate the political landscape, seeking to control the world's remaining resources, while others still try to uphold the ideals of peace and unity in a fractured world.

The Monarchs and Rulers

The Monarchs and Rulers were once the rulers of different dimensions—immense, god-like beings whose struggle for dominance reshaped entire realities. Though most were defeated or vanished after the war, their influence is far from gone. The remnants of their power live on in the form of their creations: hybrid creatures, fragments of their essence that continue to wreak havoc on Earth. These creations are twisted amalgamations of magic, technology, and the broken remnants of their creators' power, driven by instincts to conquer or destroy.

While the Monarchs and Rulers may no longer walk the Earth, their legacies persist. Some factions still venerate these beings, seeking to resurrect or harness their power for their own purposes. Others, meanwhile, are desperate to erase all traces of the Monarchs' influence, fearing that their return could plunge the world back into chaos. Despite their apparent defeat, their existence lingers like a shadow over the world.

A Loom of Realities

One of the most terrifying legacies of the dimensional wars is an artifact known as the Loom of Realities. This powerful relic was crafted by one of the Monarchs, a being whose connection to the very fabric of existence allows them to manipulate the ley lines that run through Earth. These ley lines, once the source of Earth's natural energy, are now bound to the Loom, which can distort time, space, and even reality itself.

The Loom allows its master to manipulate the threads of fate and the flow of mana, weaving a future that aligns with their goals. With the Loom's power, they can alter the course of events, create hybrid creatures, and even influence the minds of individuals. As the Loom spreads its influence, the boundary between dimensions continues to erode, threatening to unravel the fabric of reality itself.

The true identity of the force controlling the Loom remains hidden, but its influence is growing stronger with each passing day. As the players venture into this world, they will soon learn that the very threads of reality are being manipulated, and they may be the last hope of preventing total destruction.

Political Turmoil and Fragile Alliances

Amidst the dimensional chaos, Earth's nations have fractured. What was once a united world, fighting against a common enemy, is now a landscape of political turmoil and division. Global factions vie for control over the remaining resources, territory, and power, while smaller groups and guilds struggle to survive. In this unstable environment, alliances are fragile, and trust is a rare commodity.

With the Gates continuing to open and the threat of powerful hybrid creatures looming, nations find themselves forced into uneasy alliances. Some factions seek to unite against the encroaching forces, while others are consumed by greed and betrayal, each seeking to manipulate the conflict to their advantage. In the shadows, dark figures pull the strings, playing a dangerous game of power that threatens to plunge the world back into war.

This world is one of constant danger, uncertainty, and tension. Earth's inhabitants must navigate both external threats from the interdimensional monsters and internal strife driven by political rivalry, personal ambition, and the far-reaching consequences of the dimensional wars. Players will explore this fractured world, face moral dilemmas, uncover the truth about the powerful artifact known as the Loom, and ultimately decide whether humanity's future lies in redemption—or destruction.

Hunter Rank	Description
E	The weakest rank of Hunters, E Ranks are barely stronger than normal humans.
D	Slightly stronger and more versatile than E Ranks, D Ranks are usually used for menial tasks, like mining Mana Crystals.
C	C Rank hunters have the offensive and defensive capabilities of a military grade tank, making them fairly mid-grade as far as hunters go.
B	Far stronger than the previous rank, it takes about 10 C Rank Hunters to defeat a single B Rank.
A	A Rank hunters are usually raid leaders, and they're vital for clearing dungeons.
S	S Rank hunters are easily the most powerful of them all, with their rarity and immense skill making them into veritable miracles.

Character Sheet:

Name:
Your character's full name.

Nickname:
How is your character known to the public (optional).

Age:
Your character's age.

Heritage:
Your character's cultural or ethnic background.

Affiliation:
Which faction or guild is your hunter affiliated with? You can also be a freelancer, but this will lessen your influence unless an S-Rank hunter.

Rank:
Your character's rank and / or role within their guild or faction (e.g., Hunter, Guild Leader, Mercenary, Scholar, S-Rank, A-Rank, etc.).

Appearance:
Describe your character's physical appearance, including distinguishing features like hair color, eye color, height, build, clothing style, and any special physical traits (e.g., scars, tattoos, etc.).

Abilities:
List your character's special abilities, powers, or skills. This can include combat abilities, magical talents, or any unique skills that set your character apart.

Personality:
Describe your character's personality traits. Are they brave, cautious, charismatic, or manipulative? Do they have any quirks or fears? This section should provide insight into how your character behaves and interacts with others.

Backstory:
A brief history of your character's life before the events of the roleplay. What events led them to become a Hunter or join a particular faction? What motivates them? You can also include any key relationships, past traumas, or experiences that define your character's journey.

Example:

Name: Alina D'Argent
Nickname: The Argent Huntress
Age: 34
Heritage: French and Algerian descent
Affiliation: Silver Fang Guild
Rank: B-Rank Hunter, Guild Leader of the Silver Fang Guild

Appearance:
Alina stands at 5'10" with a lithe, athletic build, her skin a warm olive tone. Her long, wavy dark brown hair is usually pulled into a loose ponytail, and her bright green eyes are always alert, scanning her surroundings. A small scar runs along her left cheek, a reminder of a close encounter with a Gate monster. She dresses in a mix of tactical gear and leather armor, with silver accents that reflect her guild's colors.

Abilities:
- Mana Infusion: Alina can infuse her weapons with mana, greatly enhancing their effectiveness in combat.
- Nightblade Technique: A unique sword-fighting style that allows her to strike swiftly and silently, even in darkness.
- Shield of Argon: A defensive ability that creates a temporary barrier of solid mana, absorbing damage from physical or magical attacks.
Personality:
Alina is strong-willed and determined, never backing down from a challenge. She is fiercely protective of her guild members and can be quick to act when someone she cares about is in danger. However, her relentless drive for success often puts her at odds with others, as she has a tendency to push herself and those around her too hard. She is deeply loyal, though, and values honor and fairness above all else.

Backstory:
Born to a family of renowned hunters, Alina was trained in combat from a young age. Her mother, a former guild leader, instilled in her the importance of protecting humanity from the threats emerging from the Gates. However, tragedy struck when her mother died during a mission, leaving Alina to take over the leadership of the Silver Fang Guild at the age of 25. Under her leadership, the guild has grown into one of the most powerful factions on Earth, though it has not come without sacrifice. Alina struggles with the pressure of living up to her mother's legacy while forging her own path. Her ultimate goal is to find a way to close the Gates permanently and bring peace to Earth, but this pursuit sometimes blinds her to the consequences of her actions.
1. Respect and Courtesy
  - All players must maintain a respectful attitude toward each other at all times. Discrimination, harassment, or abusive behavior will not be tolerated.
  - Players should communicate openly and resolve conflicts through discussion if they arise.
2. Roleplay Etiquette
  - In-character vs. Out-of-character: Always differentiate between in-character (IC) and out-of-character (OOC) communication. Use brackets [ ] or parentheses ( ) for OOC discussions in posts. Please keep OOC communication out of the IC thread as much as possible.
  - Post Length: Posts should be detailed and substantial but avoid overwhelming others with excessive length. A minimum of one paragraph per post is recommended to keep the flow of the roleplay.
  - Godmodding & Powerplaying: Do not control another player's character or actions without permission. Your character should not be all-powerful or invulnerable. Everyone should have an opportunity to participate in shaping the story.
  - Character Consistency: Your character's actions should be consistent with their backstory, personality, and abilities. Dramatic out-of-character behavior can disrupt the narrative.
3. Character Creation & Development
  - Character Sheet: All players must submit a character sheet before joining the roleplay. Refer to the example template for guidance.
  - Character Limits: Players are allowed a maximum of three characters to begin with. Additional characters may be allowed once the story continues.
4. Combat & Conflict
  - Combat Resolution: While you can engage in combat with other characters or NPCs, any major battles or plot-altering events should be discussed with the GM or other players first.
  - Fair Play: Combat should be realistic, meaning no one should be able to easily overpower others without considering their character's abilities and limitations.
  - Injury and Death:Characters can be injured or killed, but this must be a mutual decision between players. Discuss outcomes before making major changes to another character's status.
    - If a player decided to drop out or vanishes entirely from the roleplay, the GM and/or any chosen moderators may decide to kill said player's character. If possible, this will always be decided with the character creator.
5. Story Progression
  - Plot Points: The roleplay is designed to be progressive. Players should engage with the narrative, unlocking new arcs and revealing secrets as the story moves forward.
  - Player Choices: Your character's actions can influence the direction of the plot. Be prepared for the consequences of your decisions—both good and bad.
  - Character Goals: Players should have personal goals for their characters, but be flexible in case the story requires them to adapt.
6. Thematic Content
  - Mature Themes: This roleplay may include mature themes such as violence and moral dilemmas. Players should be comfortable with these themes before participating.
  - Ethics and Morality: The roleplay will frequently present players with moral dilemmas, and the choices made will impact the world and story. There is no "right" or "wrong," only consequences.
7. Time and Activity
  - Posting Frequency: Players should aim to post at least once a week to keep the roleplay moving. If you need an extended break, please inform the group ahead of time.
  - Inactive Players: If you are going to be inactive for a period of time, notify the GM or other players so that your character can be written around or temporarily sidelined.
  - If a player is inactive for an extended amount of time (3 weeks+) without informing the GM and/or moderators, the GM and/or moderators may remove the player's character at their discretion.
8. Meta-Gaming & Spoilers
  - No Meta-Gaming: Do not use out-of-character knowledge to influence your character's in-character decisions. What your character knows should be based on their experiences in the roleplay.
  - No Spoilers: Major plot reveals or character backstories should be kept hidden until the appropriate moment. Discuss major spoilers privately with other players or the GM.
9. GM Authority
  - Story Direction: The GM has the final say in the progression of the story, but they will work collaboratively with the players to ensure the story is engaging for everyone.
  - Rule Enforcement: The GM will enforce these rules and may intervene if necessary to maintain the integrity of the roleplay. Players are expected to follow the GM's guidance.
10. Fun and Creativity
- Above all, this roleplay is about having fun and exploring creative ideas. Bring your character to life, interact with others, and enjoy the unfolding story.

Minarawr · Dec 17, 2024

Hunter Association Headquarters,
Geneva, Switzerland

The Hunter Association's main headquarters stood proudly above Lake Geneva, a colossal structure of gleaming glass and ageless stone. Its sprawling form blended modern innovation and timeless grandeur, a fitting monument to humanity's strength in the face of the Gates. From the balconies, one could gaze across the tranquil blue lake and the distant snow-capped peaks of the Swiss Alps—nature's silent reminder of the world they still fought to protect.

Today, the tranquil setting clashed with the buzz of excitement inside.

This day marked the start of the Hunter Convergence, an annual event where Hunters from every corner of the globe gathered. It was part conference, part celebration, and part recruitment drive—a melting pot of power, ambition, and tension.

Outside in the courtyard of the building, three massive teleportation circles were buzzing with energy, a flash of light announcing each group of arriving hunters from all around the world. For one day, Hunters of all ranks could mingle freely. The air was charged, alive with the hum of voices that ricocheted off marble walls and the soft whir of holographic projectors lining the vast lobby.

At the center of it all stood a massive holographic display hovering above the marble floor. It showed live updates of active Gates around the world—green for stable, red for emergent threats. Occasionally, a ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd as a particularly unstable Gate turned amber or flashed ominously.

To mark the event, the Association had organized open sparring matches on the training grounds outside, providing a perfect opportunity for Hunters to test their skills against each other—or show off for the crowd. An announcement echoed through the hall:

"Attention, Hunters! Sparring grounds are now open for sign-ups! Match rules are friendly combat, no lethal blows. Those interested in testing their abilities or proving themselves, please register at the west atrium."

This drew an immediate reaction. A wave of younger Hunters—many with something to prove—moved quickly toward the atrium. Some veterans watched with mild amusement, while others, clad in the signature black coats of the Association's elite, smirked as if already predicting the outcomes. The sparring grounds outside would provide entertainment and an outlet for competitive spirits, but everyone knew they served a dual purpose: showcasing strength and testing potential partnerships.

A separate announcement soon followed:

"In one hour, the Hunter Association's Global Threat briefing will commence in the Grand Assembly Hall. All Hunters are strongly encouraged to attend."

There was a sense that something significant lingered on the horizon, though no one could yet put it into words. For now, the Hunter Convergence provided a fleeting moment of camaraderie—an event where Hunters, regardless of rank, could interact freely, test their mettle, and perhaps find unexpected allies.

Hunters of every background milled about, their ranks identifiable by flashes of insignias pinned to coats, tactical vests, or armor. Some wore the colors of famous guilds —Silver Fang, Crimson Strike, and the enigmatic Azure Sentinel— while others remained unaffiliated, lone wolves with reputations built on whispered legends. The tension between guild Hunters and freelancers was palpable, though tempered by the day's shared event.

Amid the crowd, notable figures stood out like black suns in a field of stars: a towering S-rank Hunter radiating an aura of raw power, a silver-haired mage drawing curious stares as he conjured miniature rifts for a child's entertainment, and guild leaders already deep in quiet, intense conversations.

At the sparring grounds, an A-rank Hunter slammed her registration slip onto the table with a grin. "Who wants to go first?" she called out, her voice cutting through the noise. A few younger Hunters exchanged nervous glances, while others grinned back, ready to prove themselves.

Meanwhile, in quieter corners, alliances were forming, rivalries were reigniting, and rumors were spreading. Word had it that some newer Gates had shown odd behavior—spatial anomalies, distortions in time, even the appearance of creatures never seen before. It was enough to set the older Hunters on edge, though no one spoke openly of it.

The event had barely begun, but already there was a sense that the world stood at the edge of something—an invisible precipice that only a handful could see. For now, the Hunter Convergence offered a fleeting reprieve. Hunters could spar, forge alliances, or simply enjoy the rare gathering of their kind. Beneath it all, the Global Threat Briefing loomed, a dark shadow cast on the day's joyous events.

Minarawr · Dec 17, 2024

Observation Deck overlooking Lake Geneva

Vyl'Liraen stood at the edge of the observation deck, her hands lightly resting on the railing as the faint breeze stirred her silver-hued hair. From this height, Lake Geneva stretched out before her like a great mirror, its placid surface belying the chaos of the world beyond. The snow-capped peaks in the distance were bathed in golden light, a beauty so sharp it felt like a lie.

She exhaled softly, the faint shimmer of her breath dissipating into the cool mountain air. Vyl had always found solace in high places—the stillness, the perspective. For a moment, she allowed herself to exist outside of her title, outside of the weight her powers placed on her shoulders. To the world, she was an S-rank Hunter, a wielder of spatial forces few could comprehend. To those who whispered her name, she was a walking rift, a harbinger of Gate-born destruction.

But to herself? She was simply Vyl, a woman who'd endured too much and still carried too little hope.

"Still brooding, I see."

The voice pulled her from her thoughts, smooth and sardonic. Turning slightly, she found a familiar figure approaching. Lucian Vale, a fellow S-rank Hunter—though where Vyl was quiet and ethereal, Lucian was fire and arrogance incarnate. His crimson cloak billowed behind him, the silver insignia of his guild —Crimson Strike— catching the light.

"I'm watching," Vyl corrected, her tone soft but firm as her shifting violet eyes lingered on the distant mountains. "You should try it sometime."

Lucian barked a short laugh, leaning against the railing beside her. "Watching? I'd rather be down in the sparring grounds, letting the kids see what real strength looks like." He tilted his head toward the training fields far below, where cheers erupted as two Hunters clashed in a dazzling display of skill. "You know, you're half the reason they're holding this event. You're a ghost most of the year. Everyone's eager to see 'Vyl the Void' in action."

Her jaw tightened at the nickname, though she let the remark pass unchallenged.

"I'm not here for spectacle," she replied. "I'm here for answers."

The words were heavier than she'd intended, but Lucian's teasing demeanor fell away, replaced by something sharper. "So you heard, then," he muttered, his crimson eyes narrowing. "The anomalies?"

"I've felt them." Vyl turned to face him fully, the energy at her core flickering like the distant pulse of a Gate. "The distortion patterns. The way the Gates are behaving. It's wrong, Lucian. Like the laws binding them are breaking. You don't feel it?"

Lucian frowned, pushing himself off the railing to stand straighter. "Maybe I don't have your affinity for... void stuff," he said, waving a hand vaguely. "But I've seen enough red Gates lately to know something's off."

"And no one's saying it out loud," Vyl murmured. "They're pretending this is just another Convergence. Another chance to spar and flaunt their guilds."

She looked back out at the horizon, where the faint hum of Gates resonated in the edges of her senses. An invisible pressure weighed against her mind—a sign she'd learned to recognize as the calm before something catastrophic. Her eyes drifted to the Grand Assembly Hall far below, where the Global Threat Briefing would soon take place. That's where the answers would come.

Vyl straightened, a faint ripple of spatial distortion flickering around her feet before vanishing. Lucian noticed, his gaze sharpening.

"You're heading down already?" he asked, tilting his head.

Vyl nodded once. "Whatever they're going to say down there... it's going to change things."

Lucian chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "You always say that."

This time, Vyl met his eyes, her expression unreadable but her voice unwavering.

"This time, I'm sure of it."

And with that, she turned on her heel, the faint shimmer of her presence leaving the air around her feeling heavier than before. The doors of the observation deck hissed open and shut behind her, leaving Lucian alone to stare at the shimmering lake below.

From the moment Vyl descended the marble steps, heads turned. Whispers began to ripple through the crowd, like wind passing through tall grass.

"Is that her? Vyl the Void? The Gravity Queen?"

"The S-rank Hunter who's barely been seen this year?"

"Look—her eyes. Did you see that flicker?"

She ignored it all, the murmurs washing over her as easily as waves over stone. Hunters moved aside instinctively, drawn into her quiet but commanding aura. Her stride was purposeful, each step carrying her closer to the Assembly Hall and whatever revelations the Hunter Association would soon unveil.

Ryumancer · Dec 17, 2024

Aysel can be found within the Assembly hall, hanging around the edges with her aura restrained to a minimum; It's not hard to tell how on-edge some of the other Hunters are with a being so inhuman in their midst, and the last thing anyone needs is her psychic song pushing them over that edge... and that's without even considering the inconvenience a blending of water and shadow would cause in a place like this. And then there are the others. Those who've heard about what happened, of her Guild sacrificing itself to defeat the very monster whose corruption Aysel has Usurped... That kind of person is almost worse. Insincerity, a performance put on to show the world that they're a caring person, mixed with pity but no true understanding of the situation. Neither insincerity nor pity will actually fix things, and Aysel's bitterness is no secret.

Nowadays, regardless of if she's being viewed as a monster or a tragic figure, few people wish to interact with her outside of missions... and so she is generally left alone, to brood ominously in whatever corner she wishes, a trait her previous Guild Master would certainly have joked about. Aysel can only hope whatever is to be announced today is a response to the increasing frequency of incidents like the one she experienced... Or research, perhaps, into the Cores of everyone who was infected. She doubts they have any method of truly reviving or curing the civilians who were caught up in that, but if nothing else, the Cores are one of the most durable materials the Guilds have ever encountered, and all it takes to produce them is finding some way to harness the corruption safely... and that? That could either save lives, or result in a catastrophe humanity ill needs.

firejay1 · Dec 18, 2024

Valkyries, for all that they were known for being a rare all-female guild, rarely spared many members for this annual get-together, usually preferring to recruit in... other venues. They had sent just three, and why they'd picked her this year, Ginevieve wasn't aware of. All she really knew was that she was being babysat. She already had her specially modified knuckledusters on one fist when Charlie grabbed her shoulder. She swung around, attempting to punch Charlie in the face, but magical threads grabbed her wrist. She groaned.

"Leave this to me, Charlie! You go get a drink." A cheery young voice said, their youngest member, a new recruit. All soft auburn hair and freckles. She hadn't earned the right to have her name remembered yet. Jenna sneered at her, but dropped her fist.

"Don't let her participate in the sparring matches." Charlie said to freckles, nodding at Jenna as if she was a naughty pet to be kept on a leash. Jen rolled her eyes and flipped her the bird, but her giant, floofy hair, loose and free, was enough indication that she hadn't actually intended to fight anyone. Not that she didn't have her trusty hair ties in her pocket, just in case she got to have some fun.

"Ugh," She said out loud, "Come on, puppy, if I can't get a decent scrap today, at least I've got to piss off a couple of old friends."

Without waiting, she flounced into the Assembly Hall. The assembly would probably address the latest weirdness with the gates. Unusually high numbers of red gates, brand new magic beasts, they'd been deploying her for more gates lately than usual, because if you were going to risk anyone on yet another potential high level red gate, it might as well be the crazy one. With the number of funny-looking weirdos, altered by the mana flowing through their veins, no one paid too much attention to Ginevieve's disconcerting galaxy eyes, except those who knew her. The two of them were best recognized by their guild clothing, large black cloaks emblazoned with white wings. In an assembly of high level hunters this large, it was safe enough to waste a little mana. With a laugh, Ginevieve took a coin from her pocket and flipped it over and over, turning it to gold, then water, then back to its original metal as it fell into her hands again, now warped into little pieces by its time as water.

Surge0fHex · Dec 19, 2024

Arrival of the Ashen Veyrath (Martial Monarch)

The air around the Gate shimmered with otherworldly energy as Ashen Veyrath stepped through, his dark cloak billowing lightly in the unnatural breeze. His silver-streaked hair caught the light of Earth's sun, and his piercing silver eyes surveyed the surroundings with an emotionless precision. A squad of heavily armed personnel immediately moved to encircle him, their weapons trained on him, energy barriers flickering into existence as a precaution. The leader, a tall, broad-shouldered man radiating a palpable aura of strength, stepped forward, barking orders to hold position.

Ashen's gaze flicked lazily over the soldiers, his demeanour calm, almost bored. Then his eyes settled on the man in charge. A faint mocking scoff escaped his lips as he assessed the individual, but not without merit, but still far beneath him. He could feel their wariness, the tension crackling in the air like a coiled spring. Yet, he simply raised his hand, palm outward, a gesture of peace that was almost condescending in its simplicity.

"I'm not here to fight you," he began, his voice low and smooth, carrying an edge of steel that sent a shiver down their spines. "Lest, of course, you pose a threat to me."

The words lingered in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. Ashen's steps were measured, deliberate as he began to walk, the soldiers parting instinctively despite their training. The leader's jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod, signalling his men to hold their fire. Ashen paused for a moment, glancing back at the group with an amused glint in his eyes.

Without warning, his form blurred, and in an instant, he was gone, leaving the personnel startled and disoriented. Gasps and shouts of alarm echoed as they scanned the area frantically. A sharp-eyed soldier pointed upward, and all heads turned to see him standing atop a nearby skyscraper, his cloak catching the wind.

Ashen gazed at the sprawling city below, his expression unreadable. The horizon was a patchwork of modern marvels, neon lights, and technological wonders, mingled with scars of the Gates' devastation. His silver eyes glimmered as he compared this world to his own. Primitive, yes, but fascinating in its audacious shamefulness. He couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at his lips.

"So much effort... so much pride in their little toys," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible over the wind. He crossed his arms, standing as a silent sentinel against the horizon, as if calculating the threads of fate he had already begun to pull.

Below, the personnel scrambled to regroup, their eyes fixed on the lone figure above, unsure whether to fear him as a threat or regard him as something else entirely. Ashen, for his part, cared little for their deliberations. His attention was now drawn to the Gates in the distance, and the faint, almost imperceptible threads of power that seemed to emanate from somewhere far beyond them.

"This world is full of surprises," he mused, his voice carrying a faint note of intrigue. "But will it amuse me for long?"

With a final glance at the horizon, Ashen turned his back on the city below and disappeared once more, fading into the shadows like a phantom. The chessboard was set, and he was ready to play.

AnimeQueenVAVR · Dec 19, 2024

CHIHIRO | AKIHIKO

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Chihiro and Akihiko would be seen at the sparring grounds of the Hunter Association HQ. The two were watching most of the F-Ranks and sometimes even the upper ranks sparring each other or with some of the upper ranks. Akihiko sighed heavily, feeling extremely bored. "...This is boring, babe. Why are we even watching this...?" The 21-year-old male said coldly, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriend. Chihiro would softly smack him on his forearm. "Oh, come on now, Akihiko! Why not spar with someone? At least try to relieve your boredom." The 20-year-old female said smiling warmly, to which Akihiko then softened his gaze at her. They would then hear some whispers around them.
"Oh wow! Isn't that the Nine-tailed Fox Monarch and the Lone Hellhound...?!"
"Why are those two even together..?! That male's supposedly cold-hearted and ruthless...!"
"Oh, how I feel bad for her..! Hopes and prayers that she gets through that man's wrath...!"
Akihiko, having just about enough with the gossiping, would turn his attention toward the gossipers and sent them running with a cold glare. "Bloody hell...I despise gossipers..." The male growled lowly, feeling his anger rising quickly. Chihiro, immediately sensing her boyfriend's rising anger, calmed him down with her grabbing hold of his sleeve. "Babe, please calm down...! I don't want the same thing that you did to your family to happen with them again..!" Chihiro said softly, with a hint of worriedness. Akihiko then sighed heavily. "Fine...They're spared...for now.." Akihiko grumbled. 'Now he's in his puppy phase...' Chihiro thought to herself. "Come on, babe. Let's get inside. Want a cuddle..?" The 20-year-old said, smiling. Akihiko nodded. She giggled softly at the sight of Akihiko. She would hold his hand and walked with him to the Assembly Hall.

credits

Surge0fHex · Dec 23, 2024

Ashen Veyrath stood atop the tallest observation balcony of the Hunter Association Headquarters, his silver eyes scanning the horizon. The glittering waters of Lake Geneva stretched out below, the snow-capped Alps framing the tranquil scene. Yet, the serenity of the moment was an illusion. A thin veil over the storm of power that brewed within the colossal structure beneath him.

The air shimmered faintly around him, his Dimensional Convergence Aura creating subtle distortions that unsettled the flow of mana nearby. He could feel the density of power concentrated within this building. Thousands of hunters mingled below, their auras a chaotic blend of determination, ambition, and latent strength. Among them, two stood apart, their presences like beacons cutting through the fog of mediocrity.

Ashen's lips curled into a faint smirk. He didn't need to see them to recognize their power; their auras resonated with a vibrancy that hinted at mastery and experience. They were S-rank hunters, undoubtedly among the strongest this world had to offer. Their energies were distinct, one sharp and oppressive like a blade poised to strike, the other vast and consuming, as if it could crush anything in its path.

"So, this is the pinnacle of Earth's champions," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an edge of amusement.
Deciding to test the waters, Ashen allowed a fraction of his aura to surge outward. The reaction was instantaneous. Like a shockwave, his presence rippled through the building, silencing conversations and drawing every hunter's attention to the balcony above. A palpable tension filled the air as weaker hunters staggered, some clutching their chests as if the sheer weight of his presence threatened to crush them. Even the S-ranks paused, their auras flaring defensively as they turned their attention toward him. Amusement flickered in Ashen's silver eyes as he noted their readiness, trained predators recognizing a greater threat.

Moments later, the Director of the Hunter Association arrived. An older man with a commanding presence, he strode onto the balcony with purpose, his eyes narrowing as they met Ashen's. Dressed in a sharp black suit adorned with the insignia of the Association, he radiated authority tempered by decades of experience. Yet, even he hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking, the weight of Ashen's aura pressing against him.

"You," the Director said, his voice steady despite the tension. "You're the one who came to this world?"

Ashen turned his gaze toward the Director, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching until it became almost unbearable. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and calm, yet carrying an undeniable edge of power.

"Perhaps," he said, his tone laced with subtle amusement. "Or perhaps I am simply... expected."

The Director's frown deepened. "Who are you? And what is your purpose here?"

Ashen tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes glinting like polished steel. "Names are but fleeting constructs, yet you may call me Ashen Veyrath." He paused, allowing the weight of his name to settle in the air before continuing. "As for my purpose... that is a question with many answers. To observe? To test? Perhaps to act, should the need arise."

The Director's jaw tightened; his frustration evident. "This world is at a precipice, Ashen. If you've come to aid us, say so. If not, know that we will not tolerate threats to humanity's survival."

Ashen chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "A noble sentiment, Director. But I am not one to choose sides so hastily. I am merely a spectator, an observer of the unfolding game. What needs to be done, I shall do, but on my terms."

The Director regarded him carefully, weighing his words. "And what would it take for you to align yourself with us? To stand against the threat of Arachne and her Gates?"

Ashen's gaze shifted, momentarily flicking toward the S-rank hunters still watching from the shadows. "Alignment? A tempting notion. Yet alliances are fragile things, built on trust and mutual benefit. For now, I will watch." He turned back to the Director, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Arrange for me an abode, a place where I may stay and... cultivate. Perhaps then, Director, we may speak further of alliances and intentions."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. I'll see to it personally. But know this, Ashen… if you prove to be a threat, we will respond accordingly."

Ashen inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission. "Understood. Until then, Director, I shall enjoy the hospitality of your Association."

The Director turned and left, his mind already racing with contingency plans. Ashen remained on the balcony, his piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd below. The hunters had resumed their activities, though a current of unease lingered in the air. He could feel the lingering stares of the two S-ranks, their auras like coiled springs ready to strike. Yet, they did not approach, perhaps sensing the futility of such an action.

For a while, Ashen stood there, motionless, as if carved from stone. He watched the ebb and flow of power and ambition below, his mind calculating the possibilities. The pieces were in motion, the board set. Now, it was only a matter of deciding how best to play the game.
The air within the Hunter Association headquarters had shifted palpably since Ashen's arrival. As he remained perched on the observation balcony, his presence became a quiet, unyielding weight upon the collective psyche of those gathered below. Conversations resumed in hushed tones, but the tension was far from dissipated. Eyes occasionally flicked upward, searching for the enigmatic figure whose aura had momentarily pressed against their very souls.

From his vantage point, Ashen continued to analyse the grand structure and its inhabitants. The Hunter Association Headquarters was a marvel of both architecture and utility, A fusion of modern design and practical resilience. Glass panels framed the sprawling marble floors, casting natural light across the bustling atrium. Holographic displays hummed with energy, projecting live updates of Gates and their statuses. Beyond the expansive halls lay training grounds, observation rooms, and briefing chambers, all meticulously designed to accommodate the needs of hunters in an ever-changing world.

Ashen allowed his gaze to drift, noting the myriad hunters navigating the space below. Their auras were as varied as their appearances, some brimming with raw, unrefined power, others tightly controlled and honed through years of discipline. The diversity intrigued him. This was not Murim, where traditions and hierarchies dictated the flow of power. Here, chaos and innovation seemed to reign, and it was from that chaos that strength emerged.

His attention returned to the two S-ranks. Though he had yet to lay eyes on them directly, their auras painted vivid pictures in his mind. One felt like the tempest barely contained, its edges sharp and volatile. The other was a monolithic force, steady and unyielding, as if daring the world to challenge its immovable presence. Ashen's smirk deepened. These two were warriors of significant caliber, but how far did their strength truly extend? Were they capable of standing against the likes of Arachne, or would they crumble like so many others?

To test them further would be reckless, though not without appeal. The ripple effect of his earlier aura surge had already sown enough disruption. Hunters whispered in clusters, their expressions betraying curiosity and unease. Among the lower ranks, speculation ran rampant.

"Did you feel that? It was like the air itself was trying to crush me."

"Whoever's up there... they're not human."

"Is it true? An S-rank from another world?"

Ashen's keen hearing picked up fragments of their conversations, but he paid them little mind. Such conjecture was inevitable, and it served his purposes well enough. Let them wonder. Let them fear. A calculated mystique was often more effective than outright declarations of power.

The Director's approach earlier had been telling. Though outwardly composed, the man's aura had wavered, an almost imperceptible crack in his facade. It was a subtle thing, but to Ashen, it spoke volumes. The Director was accustomed to commanding respect, to standing at the pinnacle of authority within this organization. Yet even he had faltered in the presence of something he could not fully comprehend. That uncertainty was a tool Ashen intended to wield with precision.

"An abode," he had requested, the word deliberately chosen. It was not a demand for luxury or accommodation but a statement of intent. The Director would comply, if only to maintain a semblance of control over the situation. And in doing so, he would unwittingly grant Ashen the space he needed to observe, to adapt, and to plan.

Time passed, though Ashen paid it little heed. His patience was boundless, a trait honed through years of solitude and calculated ascension in Murim. Minutes or hours held little distinction in the grand scheme of his designs. He remained still, a sentinel overlooking the chaos below, his thoughts weaving intricate webs of possibility.

When the Director returned, his expression was carefully neutral, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the weight of the situation. "Your accommodations are prepared," he announced, his tone formal. "A suite in the western wing. You'll find it sufficient for your needs."

Ashen turned his gaze to the Director, his expression inscrutable. "You have my gratitude, Director," he said, his words carrying a faint edge of irony. "I trust it will serve as an adequate vantage point."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "If there's anything else—"

"There is nothing," Ashen interrupted smoothly. "For now, your efforts suffice."

With that, the Director departed once more, leaving Ashen alone on the balcony. Yet he was far from alone in spirit.

Minarawr · Dec 23, 2024

Surge0fHex said:
Ashen Veyrath stood atop the tallest observation balcony of the Hunter Association Headquarters, his silver eyes scanning the horizon. The glittering waters of Lake Geneva stretched out below, the snow-capped Alps framing the tranquil scene. Yet, the serenity of the moment was an illusion. A thin veil over the storm of power that brewed within the colossal structure beneath him.

The air shimmered faintly around him, his Dimensional Convergence Aura creating subtle distortions that unsettled the flow of mana nearby. He could feel the density of power concentrated within this building. Thousands of hunters mingled below, their auras a chaotic blend of determination, ambition, and latent strength. Among them, two stood apart, their presences like beacons cutting through the fog of mediocrity.

Ashen's lips curled into a faint smirk. He didn't need to see them to recognize their power; their auras resonated with a vibrancy that hinted at mastery and experience. They were S-rank hunters, undoubtedly among the strongest this world had to offer. Their energies were distinct, one sharp and oppressive like a blade poised to strike, the other vast and consuming, as if it could crush anything in its path.

"So, this is the pinnacle of Earth's champions," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an edge of amusement.
Deciding to test the waters, Ashen allowed a fraction of his aura to surge outward. The reaction was instantaneous. Like a shockwave, his presence rippled through the building, silencing conversations and drawing every hunter's attention to the balcony above. A palpable tension filled the air as weaker hunters staggered, some clutching their chests as if the sheer weight of his presence threatened to crush them. Even the S-ranks paused, their auras flaring defensively as they turned their attention toward him. Amusement flickered in Ashen's silver eyes as he noted their readiness, trained predators recognizing a greater threat.

Moments later, the Director of the Hunter Association arrived. An older man with a commanding presence, he strode onto the balcony with purpose, his eyes narrowing as they met Ashen's. Dressed in a sharp black suit adorned with the insignia of the Association, he radiated authority tempered by decades of experience. Yet, even he hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking, the weight of Ashen's aura pressing against him.

"You," the Director said, his voice steady despite the tension. "You're the one who came to this world?"

Ashen turned his gaze toward the Director, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching until it became almost unbearable. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and calm, yet carrying an undeniable edge of power.

"Perhaps," he said, his tone laced with subtle amusement. "Or perhaps I am simply... expected."

The Director's frown deepened. "Who are you? And what is your purpose here?"

Ashen tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes glinting like polished steel. "Names are but fleeting constructs, yet you may call me Ashen Veyrath." He paused, allowing the weight of his name to settle in the air before continuing. "As for my purpose... that is a question with many answers. To observe? To test? Perhaps to act, should the need arise."

The Director's jaw tightened; his frustration evident. "This world is at a precipice, Ashen. If you've come to aid us, say so. If not, know that we will not tolerate threats to humanity's survival."

Ashen chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "A noble sentiment, Director. But I am not one to choose sides so hastily. I am merely a spectator, an observer of the unfolding game. What needs to be done, I shall do, but on my terms."

The Director regarded him carefully, weighing his words. "And what would it take for you to align yourself with us? To stand against the threat of Arachne and her Gates?"

Ashen's gaze shifted, momentarily flicking toward the S-rank hunters still watching from the shadows. "Alignment? A tempting notion. Yet alliances are fragile things, built on trust and mutual benefit. For now, I will watch." He turned back to the Director, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Arrange for me an abode, a place where I may stay and... cultivate. Perhaps then, Director, we may speak further of alliances and intentions."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. I'll see to it personally. But know this, Ashen… if you prove to be a threat, we will respond accordingly."

Ashen inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission. "Understood. Until then, Director, I shall enjoy the hospitality of your Association."

The Director turned and left, his mind already racing with contingency plans. Ashen remained on the balcony, his piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd below. The hunters had resumed their activities, though a current of unease lingered in the air. He could feel the lingering stares of the two S-ranks, their auras like coiled springs ready to strike. Yet, they did not approach, perhaps sensing the futility of such an action.

For a while, Ashen stood there, motionless, as if carved from stone. He watched the ebb and flow of power and ambition below, his mind calculating the possibilities. The pieces were in motion, the board set. Now, it was only a matter of deciding how best to play the game.
The air within the Hunter Association headquarters had shifted palpably since Ashen's arrival. As he remained perched on the observation balcony, his presence became a quiet, unyielding weight upon the collective psyche of those gathered below. Conversations resumed in hushed tones, but the tension was far from dissipated. Eyes occasionally flicked upward, searching for the enigmatic figure whose aura had momentarily pressed against their very souls.

From his vantage point, Ashen continued to analyse the grand structure and its inhabitants. The Hunter Association Headquarters was a marvel of both architecture and utility, A fusion of modern design and practical resilience. Glass panels framed the sprawling marble floors, casting natural light across the bustling atrium. Holographic displays hummed with energy, projecting live updates of Gates and their statuses. Beyond the expansive halls lay training grounds, observation rooms, and briefing chambers, all meticulously designed to accommodate the needs of hunters in an ever-changing world.

Ashen allowed his gaze to drift, noting the myriad hunters navigating the space below. Their auras were as varied as their appearances, some brimming with raw, unrefined power, others tightly controlled and honed through years of discipline. The diversity intrigued him. This was not Murim, where traditions and hierarchies dictated the flow of power. Here, chaos and innovation seemed to reign, and it was from that chaos that strength emerged.

His attention returned to the two S-ranks. Though he had yet to lay eyes on them directly, their auras painted vivid pictures in his mind. One felt like the tempest barely contained, its edges sharp and volatile. The other was a monolithic force, steady and unyielding, as if daring the world to challenge its immovable presence. Ashen's smirk deepened. These two were warriors of significant caliber, but how far did their strength truly extend? Were they capable of standing against the likes of Arachne, or would they crumble like so many others?

To test them further would be reckless, though not without appeal. The ripple effect of his earlier aura surge had already sown enough disruption. Hunters whispered in clusters, their expressions betraying curiosity and unease. Among the lower ranks, speculation ran rampant.

"Did you feel that? It was like the air itself was trying to crush me."

"Whoever's up there... they're not human."

"Is it true? An S-rank from another world?"

Click to expand...

Ashen's keen hearing picked up fragments of their conversations, but he paid them little mind. Such conjecture was inevitable, and it served his purposes well enough. Let them wonder. Let them fear. A calculated mystique was often more effective than outright declarations of power.

The Director's approach earlier had been telling. Though outwardly composed, the man's aura had wavered, an almost imperceptible crack in his facade. It was a subtle thing, but to Ashen, it spoke volumes. The Director was accustomed to commanding respect, to standing at the pinnacle of authority within this organization. Yet even he had faltered in the presence of something he could not fully comprehend. That uncertainty was a tool Ashen intended to wield with precision.

"An abode," he had requested, the word deliberately chosen. It was not a demand for luxury or accommodation but a statement of intent. The Director would comply, if only to maintain a semblance of control over the situation. And in doing so, he would unwittingly grant Ashen the space he needed to observe, to adapt, and to plan.

Time passed, though Ashen paid it little heed. His patience was boundless, a trait honed through years of solitude and calculated ascension in Murim. Minutes or hours held little distinction in the grand scheme of his designs. He remained still, a sentinel overlooking the chaos below, his thoughts weaving intricate webs of possibility.

When the Director returned, his expression was carefully neutral, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the weight of the situation. "Your accommodations are prepared," he announced, his tone formal. "A suite in the western wing. You'll find it sufficient for your needs."

Ashen turned his gaze to the Director, his expression inscrutable. "You have my gratitude, Director," he said, his words carrying a faint edge of irony. "I trust it will serve as an adequate vantage point."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "If there's anything else—"

"There is nothing," Ashen interrupted smoothly. "For now, your efforts suffice."

With that, the Director departed once more, leaving Ashen alone on the balcony. Yet he was far from alone in spirit.

Vyl'Liraen observed the unfolding scene with a calm intensity, her unique connection to spatial currents allowing her to perceive the disruptions in mana as though they were ripples on a still lake. From her vantage point in the shadowed alcove of the atrium, her vibrant, spatially-shifting eyes followed the faint, distorted shimmer emanating from the balcony above. Ashen Veyrath, the name whispered in reverence and fear, lingered in her thoughts like an unanswered riddle.

The pulse of his aura had been unmistakable—like a tidal wave crashing through the intricate web of mana that permeated the building. The initial surge had felt invasive, testing. Calculating. It had drawn gasps, staggered movements, and a flood of wary glances. Yet, to her, the sensation was not overwhelming. If anything, it was familiar. Power wielded not out of necessity, but to establish presence. To provoke.

Her gaze flicked to the other S-rank hunter who had been quietly monitoring the scene, a brief nod passed between them. Unlike many of the hunters who cowered or speculated below, she felt no fear. Caution, yes. Respect for the raw energy emanating from above, certainly. But fear? That was a luxury she had discarded long ago.

Taking a step forward, her dimensional cloak rippled faintly, catching faint glimmers of light as it melded with her surroundings. The movement was deliberate, her presence an undeniable tether to the reality Ashen had sought to distort. She ascended the steps leading toward the balcony, each stride marked by a quiet confidence. The murmur of the crowd behind her fell away as she approached, her aura expanding ever so slightly in response to the unseen challenge hanging in the air.

When she reached the edge of the balcony, she did not immediately speak. Instead, she stood there waiting for the director to finish speaking with the new "guest", her silhouette framed by the dazzling expanse of Lake Geneva. The turbulent interplay of space and dimension flickered subtly around her as her eyes met Ashen's. They were an uncanny match to his silver gaze, not in color, but in the unspoken depth of power and experience behind them.

"An observer," Vyl finally said, her voice carrying effortlessly through the charged air. There was no need to raise it; her words were infused with the kind of authority that demanded attention. "Yet even an observer leaves ripples in the world they seek to watch."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but her tone faintly tinged with curiosity. "Did you come to test us, Ashen Veyrath? Or merely to watch us squirm under the weight of your presence?"

Her words were neither confrontational nor deferential. They were measured, spoken by someone who had long since learned the art of speaking to power without succumbing to it. She allowed a faint, almost playful smile to tug at the corner of her lips.

"If it's the latter, I can assure you, most of the hunters here are already suitably impressed. But some of us..." Her gaze sharpened momentarily, her aura tightening into a blade-like precision. "Are more interested in actions than posturing."

Vyl stepped closer, the distance between them now marked by an almost tangible tension. "If you intend to linger here, know that Earth has a way of drawing even its most reluctant participants into the fray." Her voice softened slightly, a note of warning threading through her words. "The question isn't whether you'll watch, Ashen. It's what you'll do when the ripples you've created start to pull you under."

She turned away then, her movements fluid and unhurried, as though she had already said all she needed to. "I'll be waiting to see which path you choose," she added, her voice carrying back to him like an echo through the fissures of space. Without another glance, she descended the steps, returning to the rest of the hunters waiting below. "Feel free to observe humanity for as long as you can."

Surge0fHex · Dec 24, 2024

Minarawr said:
Surge0fHex said:

Ashen Veyrath stood atop the tallest observation balcony of the Hunter Association Headquarters, his silver eyes scanning the horizon. The glittering waters of Lake Geneva stretched out below, the snow-capped Alps framing the tranquil scene. Yet, the serenity of the moment was an illusion. A thin veil over the storm of power that brewed within the colossal structure beneath him.

The air shimmered faintly around him, his Dimensional Convergence Aura creating subtle distortions that unsettled the flow of mana nearby. He could feel the density of power concentrated within this building. Thousands of hunters mingled below, their auras a chaotic blend of determination, ambition, and latent strength. Among them, two stood apart, their presences like beacons cutting through the fog of mediocrity.

Ashen's lips curled into a faint smirk. He didn't need to see them to recognize their power; their auras resonated with a vibrancy that hinted at mastery and experience. They were S-rank hunters, undoubtedly among the strongest this world had to offer. Their energies were distinct, one sharp and oppressive like a blade poised to strike, the other vast and consuming, as if it could crush anything in its path.

"So, this is the pinnacle of Earth's champions," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an edge of amusement.
Deciding to test the waters, Ashen allowed a fraction of his aura to surge outward. The reaction was instantaneous. Like a shockwave, his presence rippled through the building, silencing conversations and drawing every hunter's attention to the balcony above. A palpable tension filled the air as weaker hunters staggered, some clutching their chests as if the sheer weight of his presence threatened to crush them. Even the S-ranks paused, their auras flaring defensively as they turned their attention toward him. Amusement flickered in Ashen's silver eyes as he noted their readiness, trained predators recognizing a greater threat.

Moments later, the Director of the Hunter Association arrived. An older man with a commanding presence, he strode onto the balcony with purpose, his eyes narrowing as they met Ashen's. Dressed in a sharp black suit adorned with the insignia of the Association, he radiated authority tempered by decades of experience. Yet, even he hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking, the weight of Ashen's aura pressing against him.

"You," the Director said, his voice steady despite the tension. "You're the one who came to this world?"

Ashen turned his gaze toward the Director, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching until it became almost unbearable. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and calm, yet carrying an undeniable edge of power.

"Perhaps," he said, his tone laced with subtle amusement. "Or perhaps I am simply... expected."

The Director's frown deepened. "Who are you? And what is your purpose here?"

Ashen tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes glinting like polished steel. "Names are but fleeting constructs, yet you may call me Ashen Veyrath." He paused, allowing the weight of his name to settle in the air before continuing. "As for my purpose... that is a question with many answers. To observe? To test? Perhaps to act, should the need arise."

The Director's jaw tightened; his frustration evident. "This world is at a precipice, Ashen. If you've come to aid us, say so. If not, know that we will not tolerate threats to humanity's survival."

Ashen chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "A noble sentiment, Director. But I am not one to choose sides so hastily. I am merely a spectator, an observer of the unfolding game. What needs to be done, I shall do, but on my terms."

The Director regarded him carefully, weighing his words. "And what would it take for you to align yourself with us? To stand against the threat of Arachne and her Gates?"

Ashen's gaze shifted, momentarily flicking toward the S-rank hunters still watching from the shadows. "Alignment? A tempting notion. Yet alliances are fragile things, built on trust and mutual benefit. For now, I will watch." He turned back to the Director, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Arrange for me an abode, a place where I may stay and... cultivate. Perhaps then, Director, we may speak further of alliances and intentions."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. I'll see to it personally. But know this, Ashen… if you prove to be a threat, we will respond accordingly."

Ashen inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission. "Understood. Until then, Director, I shall enjoy the hospitality of your Association."

The Director turned and left, his mind already racing with contingency plans. Ashen remained on the balcony, his piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd below. The hunters had resumed their activities, though a current of unease lingered in the air. He could feel the lingering stares of the two S-ranks, their auras like coiled springs ready to strike. Yet, they did not approach, perhaps sensing the futility of such an action.

For a while, Ashen stood there, motionless, as if carved from stone. He watched the ebb and flow of power and ambition below, his mind calculating the possibilities. The pieces were in motion, the board set. Now, it was only a matter of deciding how best to play the game.
The air within the Hunter Association headquarters had shifted palpably since Ashen's arrival. As he remained perched on the observation balcony, his presence became a quiet, unyielding weight upon the collective psyche of those gathered below. Conversations resumed in hushed tones, but the tension was far from dissipated. Eyes occasionally flicked upward, searching for the enigmatic figure whose aura had momentarily pressed against their very souls.

From his vantage point, Ashen continued to analyse the grand structure and its inhabitants. The Hunter Association Headquarters was a marvel of both architecture and utility, A fusion of modern design and practical resilience. Glass panels framed the sprawling marble floors, casting natural light across the bustling atrium. Holographic displays hummed with energy, projecting live updates of Gates and their statuses. Beyond the expansive halls lay training grounds, observation rooms, and briefing chambers, all meticulously designed to accommodate the needs of hunters in an ever-changing world.

Ashen allowed his gaze to drift, noting the myriad hunters navigating the space below. Their auras were as varied as their appearances, some brimming with raw, unrefined power, others tightly controlled and honed through years of discipline. The diversity intrigued him. This was not Murim, where traditions and hierarchies dictated the flow of power. Here, chaos and innovation seemed to reign, and it was from that chaos that strength emerged.

His attention returned to the two S-ranks. Though he had yet to lay eyes on them directly, their auras painted vivid pictures in his mind. One felt like the tempest barely contained, its edges sharp and volatile. The other was a monolithic force, steady and unyielding, as if daring the world to challenge its immovable presence. Ashen's smirk deepened. These two were warriors of significant caliber, but how far did their strength truly extend? Were they capable of standing against the likes of Arachne, or would they crumble like so many others?

To test them further would be reckless, though not without appeal. The ripple effect of his earlier aura surge had already sown enough disruption. Hunters whispered in clusters, their expressions betraying curiosity and unease. Among the lower ranks, speculation ran rampant.

"Did you feel that? It was like the air itself was trying to crush me."

"Whoever's up there... they're not human."

"Is it true? An S-rank from another world?"

Click to expand...

Ashen's keen hearing picked up fragments of their conversations, but he paid them little mind. Such conjecture was inevitable, and it served his purposes well enough. Let them wonder. Let them fear. A calculated mystique was often more effective than outright declarations of power.

The Director's approach earlier had been telling. Though outwardly composed, the man's aura had wavered, an almost imperceptible crack in his facade. It was a subtle thing, but to Ashen, it spoke volumes. The Director was accustomed to commanding respect, to standing at the pinnacle of authority within this organization. Yet even he had faltered in the presence of something he could not fully comprehend. That uncertainty was a tool Ashen intended to wield with precision.

"An abode," he had requested, the word deliberately chosen. It was not a demand for luxury or accommodation but a statement of intent. The Director would comply, if only to maintain a semblance of control over the situation. And in doing so, he would unwittingly grant Ashen the space he needed to observe, to adapt, and to plan.

Time passed, though Ashen paid it little heed. His patience was boundless, a trait honed through years of solitude and calculated ascension in Murim. Minutes or hours held little distinction in the grand scheme of his designs. He remained still, a sentinel overlooking the chaos below, his thoughts weaving intricate webs of possibility.

When the Director returned, his expression was carefully neutral, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the weight of the situation. "Your accommodations are prepared," he announced, his tone formal. "A suite in the western wing. You'll find it sufficient for your needs."

Ashen turned his gaze to the Director, his expression inscrutable. "You have my gratitude, Director," he said, his words carrying a faint edge of irony. "I trust it will serve as an adequate vantage point."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "If there's anything else—"

"There is nothing," Ashen interrupted smoothly. "For now, your efforts suffice."

With that, the Director departed once more, leaving Ashen alone on the balcony. Yet he was far from alone in spirit.

Click to expand...

Vyl'Liraen observed the unfolding scene with a calm intensity, her unique connection to spatial currents allowing her to perceive the disruptions in mana as though they were ripples on a still lake. From her vantage point in the shadowed alcove of the atrium, her vibrant, spatially-shifting eyes followed the faint, distorted shimmer emanating from the balcony above. Ashen Veyrath, the name whispered in reverence and fear, lingered in her thoughts like an unanswered riddle.

The pulse of his aura had been unmistakable—like a tidal wave crashing through the intricate web of mana that permeated the building. The initial surge had felt invasive, testing. Calculating. It had drawn gasps, staggered movements, and a flood of wary glances. Yet, to her, the sensation was not overwhelming. If anything, it was familiar. Power wielded not out of necessity, but to establish presence. To provoke.

Her gaze flicked to the other S-rank hunter who had been quietly monitoring the scene, a brief nod passed between them. Unlike many of the hunters who cowered or speculated below, she felt no fear. Caution, yes. Respect for the raw energy emanating from above, certainly. But fear? That was a luxury she had discarded long ago.

Taking a step forward, her dimensional cloak rippled faintly, catching faint glimmers of light as it melded with her surroundings. The movement was deliberate, her presence an undeniable tether to the reality Ashen had sought to distort. She ascended the steps leading toward the balcony, each stride marked by a quiet confidence. The murmur of the crowd behind her fell away as she approached, her aura expanding ever so slightly in response to the unseen challenge hanging in the air.

When she reached the edge of the balcony, she did not immediately speak. Instead, she stood there waiting for the director to finish speaking with the new "guest", her silhouette framed by the dazzling expanse of Lake Geneva. The turbulent interplay of space and dimension flickered subtly around her as her eyes met Ashen's. They were an uncanny match to his silver gaze, not in color, but in the unspoken depth of power and experience behind them.

"An observer," Vyl finally said, her voice carrying effortlessly through the charged air. There was no need to raise it; her words were infused with the kind of authority that demanded attention. "Yet even an observer leaves ripples in the world they seek to watch."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but her tone faintly tinged with curiosity. "Did you come to test us, Ashen Veyrath? Or merely to watch us squirm under the weight of your presence?"

Her words were neither confrontational nor deferential. They were measured, spoken by someone who had long since learned the art of speaking to power without succumbing to it. She allowed a faint, almost playful smile to tug at the corner of her lips.

"If it's the latter, I can assure you, most of the hunters here are already suitably impressed. But some of us..." Her gaze sharpened momentarily, her aura tightening into a blade-like precision. "Are more interested in actions than posturing."

Vyl stepped closer, the distance between them now marked by an almost tangible tension. "If you intend to linger here, know that Earth has a way of drawing even its most reluctant participants into the fray." Her voice softened slightly, a note of warning threading through her words. "The question isn't whether you'll watch, Ashen. It's what you'll do when the ripples you've created start to pull you under."

She turned away then, her movements fluid and unhurried, as though she had already said all she needed to. "I'll be waiting to see which path you choose," she added, her voice carrying back to him like an echo through the fissures of space. Without another glance, she descended the steps, returning to the rest of the hunters waiting below. "Feel free to observe humanity for as long as you can."

Ashen Veyrath stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, a picture of unyielding composure against the balcony's edge. His silver gaze swept across the atrium below, his expression as calm and inscrutable as a polished obsidian mirror. The faint shimmer of mana that marked his presence seemed to ripple outward like an imperceptible tide, brushing against every corner of the room. To the gathered hunters below, it was suffocating, an unspoken dominance that demanded reverence.

And yet, as he observed the woman ascending toward him, there was the faintest flicker of intrigue beneath the glacial surface of his demeanour. She moved with precision, each step measured and deliberate. Her dimensional cloak rippled faintly, bending light around her like a veil of secrets. It was not her outward confidence that caught his interest, nor the subtle authority in her gaze as she approached. No, it was the absence of fear in her bearing. She neither faltered nor averted her eyes, her body language void of the usual deference he had come to expect.

He catalogued her every movement, every microexpression. The slight tilt of her head when she first met his gaze, the almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw as the weight of his aura pressed against her. She had felt it, no one escaped the oppressive pulse of his presence unscathed, but she had not wavered. Her defiance was quiet, calculated. It amused him.

When she spoke, her voice cut through the charged air with a precision that belied her seemingly composed exterior. Her words, carefully chosen and deliberate, were an open challenge cloaked in civility.

"An observer," she had called him, her tone carrying an almost playful undercurrent.

A faint twitch of his lips, not quite a smile, marked his response. His silver eyes, glinting with something that might have been curiosity, remained fixed on her as she continued. She questioned his purpose, her gaze sharp and probing, and for a moment, the faintest shadow of a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was not humour but something darker, a recognition of the audacity in her words.

When she finished and turned away, leaving her parting remark to linger like a phantom in the air, he let the silence stretch. He was in no hurry to respond. Instead, he allowed his gaze to follow her retreating figure, his mind sifting through the myriad impressions she had left in her wake. Her movements, her tone, even the faint play of spatial energy around her, all of it painted a portrait of someone accustomed to wielding power, though in a manner far different from his own.

Finally, he moved. The shift was subtle, a slight straightening of his posture as he released his hands and let them fall to his sides. His steps were measured as he closed the distance she had placed between them, descending the steps with an unhurried grace. Each step echoed faintly, the sound carrying through the atrium like the tolling of a bell.

The hunters below grew tense as he approached, their unease palpable in the air. But he paid them no mind. His focus was singular, his attention fixed solely on the enigmatic figure who had dared to confront him.

When he stopped, he stood close enough that the faint shimmer of his aura mingled with hers, the interplay of their energies creating an almost tangible tension in the air. He regarded her with the same cool, detached expression he had worn since his arrival, but his words, when he finally spoke, carried a weight that seemed to press against the very fabric of reality.

"Ripples," he repeated, his voice a low, glacial monotone. The single word lingered, as though he were testing its texture against the charged silence. "Is that how you perceive it? A ripple in a still pond?"

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as though dissecting her very essence. "Interesting."

There was a pause, deliberate and heavy, before he continued. "Do you know what becomes of the pond when the ripples grow unchecked? The surface breaks. The depths churn. And what lies beneath… surfaces."

His tone was devoid of emotion, yet there was an undeniable menace threaded through his words. It was not a threat, not overtly. It was a statement of inevitability, delivered with the cold detachment of someone who had long since transcended the need for bluster.

"You… amuse me," he said finally, his silver eyes glinting with something akin to amusement, though his expression remained as unreadable as ever. "It's rare to find someone who speaks so freely in my presence. Rarer still to find someone who understands the consequences of doing so."

He took a step closer, the distance between them now razor-thin, and lowered his voice to a near-whisper, though it carried with perfect clarity. "Tell me, stranger, is it bravery that compels you? Or ignorance?"

Before she could answer, he straightened, his gaze sweeping over the gathered hunters, who now watched in stunned silence. His presence, already oppressive, seemed to expand, filling the atrium with a suffocating weight.

"You spoke of actions," he said, his voice carrying an edge of mockery as he turned his attention back to her. "And yet, here you stand. Speaking. Posturing. Perhaps you overestimate your own conviction."

His gaze bore into hers, unrelenting and cold. And yet, for all his words, there was no hostility in his expression. Only curiosity, tempered by an undercurrent of something darker.

"But I will grant you this," he said, his tone softening ever so slightly. "You've succeeded in piquing my interest. For now."

He turned then, his movements fluid and precise, and began to walk away, his back to her as though dismissing the encounter entirely. But as he reached the edge of the atrium, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"When the ripples you spoke of grow into waves, we shall see whether you sink or swim. Until then… amuse me further, if you can."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, his presence lingering like a phantom in the minds of those who had witnessed the exchange. For all his words and the calculated menace in his demeanour, there was one thing that had been unmistakably clear:

Ashen Veyrath had found something worth watching.

Minarawr · Dec 24, 2024

Surge0fHex said:
Minarawr said:

Surge0fHex said:

Ashen Veyrath stood atop the tallest observation balcony of the Hunter Association Headquarters, his silver eyes scanning the horizon. The glittering waters of Lake Geneva stretched out below, the snow-capped Alps framing the tranquil scene. Yet, the serenity of the moment was an illusion. A thin veil over the storm of power that brewed within the colossal structure beneath him.

The air shimmered faintly around him, his Dimensional Convergence Aura creating subtle distortions that unsettled the flow of mana nearby. He could feel the density of power concentrated within this building. Thousands of hunters mingled below, their auras a chaotic blend of determination, ambition, and latent strength. Among them, two stood apart, their presences like beacons cutting through the fog of mediocrity.

Ashen's lips curled into a faint smirk. He didn't need to see them to recognize their power; their auras resonated with a vibrancy that hinted at mastery and experience. They were S-rank hunters, undoubtedly among the strongest this world had to offer. Their energies were distinct, one sharp and oppressive like a blade poised to strike, the other vast and consuming, as if it could crush anything in its path.

"So, this is the pinnacle of Earth's champions," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an edge of amusement.
Deciding to test the waters, Ashen allowed a fraction of his aura to surge outward. The reaction was instantaneous. Like a shockwave, his presence rippled through the building, silencing conversations and drawing every hunter's attention to the balcony above. A palpable tension filled the air as weaker hunters staggered, some clutching their chests as if the sheer weight of his presence threatened to crush them. Even the S-ranks paused, their auras flaring defensively as they turned their attention toward him. Amusement flickered in Ashen's silver eyes as he noted their readiness, trained predators recognizing a greater threat.

Moments later, the Director of the Hunter Association arrived. An older man with a commanding presence, he strode onto the balcony with purpose, his eyes narrowing as they met Ashen's. Dressed in a sharp black suit adorned with the insignia of the Association, he radiated authority tempered by decades of experience. Yet, even he hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking, the weight of Ashen's aura pressing against him.

"You," the Director said, his voice steady despite the tension. "You're the one who came to this world?"

Ashen turned his gaze toward the Director, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching until it became almost unbearable. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and calm, yet carrying an undeniable edge of power.

"Perhaps," he said, his tone laced with subtle amusement. "Or perhaps I am simply... expected."

The Director's frown deepened. "Who are you? And what is your purpose here?"

Ashen tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes glinting like polished steel. "Names are but fleeting constructs, yet you may call me Ashen Veyrath." He paused, allowing the weight of his name to settle in the air before continuing. "As for my purpose... that is a question with many answers. To observe? To test? Perhaps to act, should the need arise."

The Director's jaw tightened; his frustration evident. "This world is at a precipice, Ashen. If you've come to aid us, say so. If not, know that we will not tolerate threats to humanity's survival."

Ashen chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "A noble sentiment, Director. But I am not one to choose sides so hastily. I am merely a spectator, an observer of the unfolding game. What needs to be done, I shall do, but on my terms."

The Director regarded him carefully, weighing his words. "And what would it take for you to align yourself with us? To stand against the threat of Arachne and her Gates?"

Ashen's gaze shifted, momentarily flicking toward the S-rank hunters still watching from the shadows. "Alignment? A tempting notion. Yet alliances are fragile things, built on trust and mutual benefit. For now, I will watch." He turned back to the Director, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Arrange for me an abode, a place where I may stay and... cultivate. Perhaps then, Director, we may speak further of alliances and intentions."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. I'll see to it personally. But know this, Ashen… if you prove to be a threat, we will respond accordingly."

Ashen inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission. "Understood. Until then, Director, I shall enjoy the hospitality of your Association."

The Director turned and left, his mind already racing with contingency plans. Ashen remained on the balcony, his piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd below. The hunters had resumed their activities, though a current of unease lingered in the air. He could feel the lingering stares of the two S-ranks, their auras like coiled springs ready to strike. Yet, they did not approach, perhaps sensing the futility of such an action.

For a while, Ashen stood there, motionless, as if carved from stone. He watched the ebb and flow of power and ambition below, his mind calculating the possibilities. The pieces were in motion, the board set. Now, it was only a matter of deciding how best to play the game.
The air within the Hunter Association headquarters had shifted palpably since Ashen's arrival. As he remained perched on the observation balcony, his presence became a quiet, unyielding weight upon the collective psyche of those gathered below. Conversations resumed in hushed tones, but the tension was far from dissipated. Eyes occasionally flicked upward, searching for the enigmatic figure whose aura had momentarily pressed against their very souls.

From his vantage point, Ashen continued to analyse the grand structure and its inhabitants. The Hunter Association Headquarters was a marvel of both architecture and utility, A fusion of modern design and practical resilience. Glass panels framed the sprawling marble floors, casting natural light across the bustling atrium. Holographic displays hummed with energy, projecting live updates of Gates and their statuses. Beyond the expansive halls lay training grounds, observation rooms, and briefing chambers, all meticulously designed to accommodate the needs of hunters in an ever-changing world.

Ashen allowed his gaze to drift, noting the myriad hunters navigating the space below. Their auras were as varied as their appearances, some brimming with raw, unrefined power, others tightly controlled and honed through years of discipline. The diversity intrigued him. This was not Murim, where traditions and hierarchies dictated the flow of power. Here, chaos and innovation seemed to reign, and it was from that chaos that strength emerged.

His attention returned to the two S-ranks. Though he had yet to lay eyes on them directly, their auras painted vivid pictures in his mind. One felt like the tempest barely contained, its edges sharp and volatile. The other was a monolithic force, steady and unyielding, as if daring the world to challenge its immovable presence. Ashen's smirk deepened. These two were warriors of significant caliber, but how far did their strength truly extend? Were they capable of standing against the likes of Arachne, or would they crumble like so many others?

To test them further would be reckless, though not without appeal. The ripple effect of his earlier aura surge had already sown enough disruption. Hunters whispered in clusters, their expressions betraying curiosity and unease. Among the lower ranks, speculation ran rampant.

"Did you feel that? It was like the air itself was trying to crush me."

"Whoever's up there... they're not human."

"Is it true? An S-rank from another world?"

Click to expand...

Ashen's keen hearing picked up fragments of their conversations, but he paid them little mind. Such conjecture was inevitable, and it served his purposes well enough. Let them wonder. Let them fear. A calculated mystique was often more effective than outright declarations of power.

The Director's approach earlier had been telling. Though outwardly composed, the man's aura had wavered, an almost imperceptible crack in his facade. It was a subtle thing, but to Ashen, it spoke volumes. The Director was accustomed to commanding respect, to standing at the pinnacle of authority within this organization. Yet even he had faltered in the presence of something he could not fully comprehend. That uncertainty was a tool Ashen intended to wield with precision.

"An abode," he had requested, the word deliberately chosen. It was not a demand for luxury or accommodation but a statement of intent. The Director would comply, if only to maintain a semblance of control over the situation. And in doing so, he would unwittingly grant Ashen the space he needed to observe, to adapt, and to plan.

Time passed, though Ashen paid it little heed. His patience was boundless, a trait honed through years of solitude and calculated ascension in Murim. Minutes or hours held little distinction in the grand scheme of his designs. He remained still, a sentinel overlooking the chaos below, his thoughts weaving intricate webs of possibility.

When the Director returned, his expression was carefully neutral, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the weight of the situation. "Your accommodations are prepared," he announced, his tone formal. "A suite in the western wing. You'll find it sufficient for your needs."

Ashen turned his gaze to the Director, his expression inscrutable. "You have my gratitude, Director," he said, his words carrying a faint edge of irony. "I trust it will serve as an adequate vantage point."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "If there's anything else—"

"There is nothing," Ashen interrupted smoothly. "For now, your efforts suffice."

With that, the Director departed once more, leaving Ashen alone on the balcony. Yet he was far from alone in spirit.

Click to expand...

Vyl'Liraen observed the unfolding scene with a calm intensity, her unique connection to spatial currents allowing her to perceive the disruptions in mana as though they were ripples on a still lake. From her vantage point in the shadowed alcove of the atrium, her vibrant, spatially-shifting eyes followed the faint, distorted shimmer emanating from the balcony above. Ashen Veyrath, the name whispered in reverence and fear, lingered in her thoughts like an unanswered riddle.

The pulse of his aura had been unmistakable—like a tidal wave crashing through the intricate web of mana that permeated the building. The initial surge had felt invasive, testing. Calculating. It had drawn gasps, staggered movements, and a flood of wary glances. Yet, to her, the sensation was not overwhelming. If anything, it was familiar. Power wielded not out of necessity, but to establish presence. To provoke.

Her gaze flicked to the other S-rank hunter who had been quietly monitoring the scene, a brief nod passed between them. Unlike many of the hunters who cowered or speculated below, she felt no fear. Caution, yes. Respect for the raw energy emanating from above, certainly. But fear? That was a luxury she had discarded long ago.

Taking a step forward, her dimensional cloak rippled faintly, catching faint glimmers of light as it melded with her surroundings. The movement was deliberate, her presence an undeniable tether to the reality Ashen had sought to distort. She ascended the steps leading toward the balcony, each stride marked by a quiet confidence. The murmur of the crowd behind her fell away as she approached, her aura expanding ever so slightly in response to the unseen challenge hanging in the air.

When she reached the edge of the balcony, she did not immediately speak. Instead, she stood there waiting for the director to finish speaking with the new "guest", her silhouette framed by the dazzling expanse of Lake Geneva. The turbulent interplay of space and dimension flickered subtly around her as her eyes met Ashen's. They were an uncanny match to his silver gaze, not in color, but in the unspoken depth of power and experience behind them.

"An observer," Vyl finally said, her voice carrying effortlessly through the charged air. There was no need to raise it; her words were infused with the kind of authority that demanded attention. "Yet even an observer leaves ripples in the world they seek to watch."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but her tone faintly tinged with curiosity. "Did you come to test us, Ashen Veyrath? Or merely to watch us squirm under the weight of your presence?"

Her words were neither confrontational nor deferential. They were measured, spoken by someone who had long since learned the art of speaking to power without succumbing to it. She allowed a faint, almost playful smile to tug at the corner of her lips.

"If it's the latter, I can assure you, most of the hunters here are already suitably impressed. But some of us..." Her gaze sharpened momentarily, her aura tightening into a blade-like precision. "Are more interested in actions than posturing."

Vyl stepped closer, the distance between them now marked by an almost tangible tension. "If you intend to linger here, know that Earth has a way of drawing even its most reluctant participants into the fray." Her voice softened slightly, a note of warning threading through her words. "The question isn't whether you'll watch, Ashen. It's what you'll do when the ripples you've created start to pull you under."

She turned away then, her movements fluid and unhurried, as though she had already said all she needed to. "I'll be waiting to see which path you choose," she added, her voice carrying back to him like an echo through the fissures of space. Without another glance, she descended the steps, returning to the rest of the hunters waiting below. "Feel free to observe humanity for as long as you can."

Click to expand...

Ashen Veyrath stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, a picture of unyielding composure against the balcony's edge. His silver gaze swept across the atrium below, his expression as calm and inscrutable as a polished obsidian mirror. The faint shimmer of mana that marked his presence seemed to ripple outward like an imperceptible tide, brushing against every corner of the room. To the gathered hunters below, it was suffocating, an unspoken dominance that demanded reverence.

And yet, as he observed the woman ascending toward him, there was the faintest flicker of intrigue beneath the glacial surface of his demeanour. She moved with precision, each step measured and deliberate. Her dimensional cloak rippled faintly, bending light around her like a veil of secrets. It was not her outward confidence that caught his interest, nor the subtle authority in her gaze as she approached. No, it was the absence of fear in her bearing. She neither faltered nor averted her eyes, her body language void of the usual deference he had come to expect.

He catalogued her every movement, every microexpression. The slight tilt of her head when she first met his gaze, the almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw as the weight of his aura pressed against her. She had felt it, no one escaped the oppressive pulse of his presence unscathed, but she had not wavered. Her defiance was quiet, calculated. It amused him.

When she spoke, her voice cut through the charged air with a precision that belied her seemingly composed exterior. Her words, carefully chosen and deliberate, were an open challenge cloaked in civility.

"An observer," she had called him, her tone carrying an almost playful undercurrent.

A faint twitch of his lips, not quite a smile, marked his response. His silver eyes, glinting with something that might have been curiosity, remained fixed on her as she continued. She questioned his purpose, her gaze sharp and probing, and for a moment, the faintest shadow of a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was not humour but something darker, a recognition of the audacity in her words.

When she finished and turned away, leaving her parting remark to linger like a phantom in the air, he let the silence stretch. He was in no hurry to respond. Instead, he allowed his gaze to follow her retreating figure, his mind sifting through the myriad impressions she had left in her wake. Her movements, her tone, even the faint play of spatial energy around her, all of it painted a portrait of someone accustomed to wielding power, though in a manner far different from his own.

Finally, he moved. The shift was subtle, a slight straightening of his posture as he released his hands and let them fall to his sides. His steps were measured as he closed the distance she had placed between them, descending the steps with an unhurried grace. Each step echoed faintly, the sound carrying through the atrium like the tolling of a bell.

The hunters below grew tense as he approached, their unease palpable in the air. But he paid them no mind. His focus was singular, his attention fixed solely on the enigmatic figure who had dared to confront him.

When he stopped, he stood close enough that the faint shimmer of his aura mingled with hers, the interplay of their energies creating an almost tangible tension in the air. He regarded her with the same cool, detached expression he had worn since his arrival, but his words, when he finally spoke, carried a weight that seemed to press against the very fabric of reality.

"Ripples," he repeated, his voice a low, glacial monotone. The single word lingered, as though he were testing its texture against the charged silence. "Is that how you perceive it? A ripple in a still pond?"

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as though dissecting her very essence. "Interesting."

There was a pause, deliberate and heavy, before he continued. "Do you know what becomes of the pond when the ripples grow unchecked? The surface breaks. The depths churn. And what lies beneath… surfaces."

His tone was devoid of emotion, yet there was an undeniable menace threaded through his words. It was not a threat, not overtly. It was a statement of inevitability, delivered with the cold detachment of someone who had long since transcended the need for bluster.

"You… amuse me," he said finally, his silver eyes glinting with something akin to amusement, though his expression remained as unreadable as ever. "It's rare to find someone who speaks so freely in my presence. Rarer still to find someone who understands the consequences of doing so."

He took a step closer, the distance between them now razor-thin, and lowered his voice to a near-whisper, though it carried with perfect clarity. "Tell me, stranger, is it bravery that compels you? Or ignorance?"

Before she could answer, he straightened, his gaze sweeping over the gathered hunters, who now watched in stunned silence. His presence, already oppressive, seemed to expand, filling the atrium with a suffocating weight.

"You spoke of actions," he said, his voice carrying an edge of mockery as he turned his attention back to her. "And yet, here you stand. Speaking. Posturing. Perhaps you overestimate your own conviction."

His gaze bore into hers, unrelenting and cold. And yet, for all his words, there was no hostility in his expression. Only curiosity, tempered by an undercurrent of something darker.

"But I will grant you this," he said, his tone softening ever so slightly. "You've succeeded in piquing my interest. For now."

He turned then, his movements fluid and precise, and began to walk away, his back to her as though dismissing the encounter entirely. But as he reached the edge of the atrium, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"When the ripples you spoke of grow into waves, we shall see whether you sink or swim. Until then… amuse me further, if you can."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, his presence lingering like a phantom in the minds of those who had witnessed the exchange. For all his words and the calculated menace in his demeanour, there was one thing that had been unmistakably clear:

Ashen Veyrath had found something worth watching.

Vyl'Liraen watched him retreat into the shadows, her gaze unwavering even as his oppressive presence lingered like a tangible weight. Her dimensional cloak shimmered faintly, the rippling energy dancing across the fabric as though responding to her thoughts. She exhaled slowly, her expression measured, her mind turning over his words like a puzzle, each piece carefully examined and slotted into place.

For all his veiled menace and cold authority, she found his words less intimidating and more… telling. Ripples grow into waves, do they? A faint smile tugged at her lips, the kind of smile that did not reach her eyes. She let the silence settle around her for a moment longer, her spatial energy contracting and expanding in a deliberate rhythm, as if testing the boundaries of the space he had filled.

Turning toward the atrium below, where the gathered hunters stood frozen in uneasy silence, Vyl'Liraen stepped forward, her movements fluid, her presence magnetic. Her voice, when it came, carried across the room with a clarity that cut through the tension like a blade.

"Ripples do not simply grow into waves," she said, her tone calm yet laden with a quiet confidence that demanded attention. "They carry intent, shaped by the force that created them. A still pond may be disturbed, yes, but it is the purpose behind the disturbance that defines what surfaces."

Her gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on the lingering shadows where Ashen Veyrath had disappeared. "And sometimes, what rises from the depths was never meant to be hidden at all."

She allowed her words to hang in the air, the weight of them resonating with the onlookers. Slowly, her dimensional cloak shifted again, its energy brushing against the edges of their perception like a whisper, gentle yet undeniable.

"As for whether I sink or swim," she added, tilting her head slightly as if in thought, "that depends on whose waters we're treading, does it not? And, of course, who dares to tread alongside me."

Without waiting for a response, or even expecting one, Vyl'Liraen finished descending the steps. Most of the hunters parted instinctively, their gazes a mix of awe and apprehension as she passed. Though her steps carried her away from the atrium and towards the Grand Assembly Hall once more, the subtle pulse of her spatial energy lingered like a whisper of defiance, a reminder that this encounter was far from over.

Surge0fHex · Dec 24, 2024

Minarawr said:
Surge0fHex said:

Minarawr said:

Surge0fHex said:

Ashen Veyrath stood atop the tallest observation balcony of the Hunter Association Headquarters, his silver eyes scanning the horizon. The glittering waters of Lake Geneva stretched out below, the snow-capped Alps framing the tranquil scene. Yet, the serenity of the moment was an illusion. A thin veil over the storm of power that brewed within the colossal structure beneath him.

The air shimmered faintly around him, his Dimensional Convergence Aura creating subtle distortions that unsettled the flow of mana nearby. He could feel the density of power concentrated within this building. Thousands of hunters mingled below, their auras a chaotic blend of determination, ambition, and latent strength. Among them, two stood apart, their presences like beacons cutting through the fog of mediocrity.

Ashen's lips curled into a faint smirk. He didn't need to see them to recognize their power; their auras resonated with a vibrancy that hinted at mastery and experience. They were S-rank hunters, undoubtedly among the strongest this world had to offer. Their energies were distinct, one sharp and oppressive like a blade poised to strike, the other vast and consuming, as if it could crush anything in its path.

"So, this is the pinnacle of Earth's champions," he murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper yet carrying an edge of amusement.
Deciding to test the waters, Ashen allowed a fraction of his aura to surge outward. The reaction was instantaneous. Like a shockwave, his presence rippled through the building, silencing conversations and drawing every hunter's attention to the balcony above. A palpable tension filled the air as weaker hunters staggered, some clutching their chests as if the sheer weight of his presence threatened to crush them. Even the S-ranks paused, their auras flaring defensively as they turned their attention toward him. Amusement flickered in Ashen's silver eyes as he noted their readiness, trained predators recognizing a greater threat.

Moments later, the Director of the Hunter Association arrived. An older man with a commanding presence, he strode onto the balcony with purpose, his eyes narrowing as they met Ashen's. Dressed in a sharp black suit adorned with the insignia of the Association, he radiated authority tempered by decades of experience. Yet, even he hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking, the weight of Ashen's aura pressing against him.

"You," the Director said, his voice steady despite the tension. "You're the one who came to this world?"

Ashen turned his gaze toward the Director, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching until it became almost unbearable. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and calm, yet carrying an undeniable edge of power.

"Perhaps," he said, his tone laced with subtle amusement. "Or perhaps I am simply... expected."

The Director's frown deepened. "Who are you? And what is your purpose here?"

Ashen tilted his head slightly, his silver eyes glinting like polished steel. "Names are but fleeting constructs, yet you may call me Ashen Veyrath." He paused, allowing the weight of his name to settle in the air before continuing. "As for my purpose... that is a question with many answers. To observe? To test? Perhaps to act, should the need arise."

The Director's jaw tightened; his frustration evident. "This world is at a precipice, Ashen. If you've come to aid us, say so. If not, know that we will not tolerate threats to humanity's survival."

Ashen chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "A noble sentiment, Director. But I am not one to choose sides so hastily. I am merely a spectator, an observer of the unfolding game. What needs to be done, I shall do, but on my terms."

The Director regarded him carefully, weighing his words. "And what would it take for you to align yourself with us? To stand against the threat of Arachne and her Gates?"

Ashen's gaze shifted, momentarily flicking toward the S-rank hunters still watching from the shadows. "Alignment? A tempting notion. Yet alliances are fragile things, built on trust and mutual benefit. For now, I will watch." He turned back to the Director, his expression softening ever so slightly. "Arrange for me an abode, a place where I may stay and... cultivate. Perhaps then, Director, we may speak further of alliances and intentions."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "Very well. I'll see to it personally. But know this, Ashen… if you prove to be a threat, we will respond accordingly."

Ashen inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than submission. "Understood. Until then, Director, I shall enjoy the hospitality of your Association."

The Director turned and left, his mind already racing with contingency plans. Ashen remained on the balcony, his piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd below. The hunters had resumed their activities, though a current of unease lingered in the air. He could feel the lingering stares of the two S-ranks, their auras like coiled springs ready to strike. Yet, they did not approach, perhaps sensing the futility of such an action.

For a while, Ashen stood there, motionless, as if carved from stone. He watched the ebb and flow of power and ambition below, his mind calculating the possibilities. The pieces were in motion, the board set. Now, it was only a matter of deciding how best to play the game.
The air within the Hunter Association headquarters had shifted palpably since Ashen's arrival. As he remained perched on the observation balcony, his presence became a quiet, unyielding weight upon the collective psyche of those gathered below. Conversations resumed in hushed tones, but the tension was far from dissipated. Eyes occasionally flicked upward, searching for the enigmatic figure whose aura had momentarily pressed against their very souls.

From his vantage point, Ashen continued to analyse the grand structure and its inhabitants. The Hunter Association Headquarters was a marvel of both architecture and utility, A fusion of modern design and practical resilience. Glass panels framed the sprawling marble floors, casting natural light across the bustling atrium. Holographic displays hummed with energy, projecting live updates of Gates and their statuses. Beyond the expansive halls lay training grounds, observation rooms, and briefing chambers, all meticulously designed to accommodate the needs of hunters in an ever-changing world.

Ashen allowed his gaze to drift, noting the myriad hunters navigating the space below. Their auras were as varied as their appearances, some brimming with raw, unrefined power, others tightly controlled and honed through years of discipline. The diversity intrigued him. This was not Murim, where traditions and hierarchies dictated the flow of power. Here, chaos and innovation seemed to reign, and it was from that chaos that strength emerged.

His attention returned to the two S-ranks. Though he had yet to lay eyes on them directly, their auras painted vivid pictures in his mind. One felt like the tempest barely contained, its edges sharp and volatile. The other was a monolithic force, steady and unyielding, as if daring the world to challenge its immovable presence. Ashen's smirk deepened. These two were warriors of significant caliber, but how far did their strength truly extend? Were they capable of standing against the likes of Arachne, or would they crumble like so many others?

To test them further would be reckless, though not without appeal. The ripple effect of his earlier aura surge had already sown enough disruption. Hunters whispered in clusters, their expressions betraying curiosity and unease. Among the lower ranks, speculation ran rampant.

"Did you feel that? It was like the air itself was trying to crush me."

"Whoever's up there... they're not human."

"Is it true? An S-rank from another world?"

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Ashen's keen hearing picked up fragments of their conversations, but he paid them little mind. Such conjecture was inevitable, and it served his purposes well enough. Let them wonder. Let them fear. A calculated mystique was often more effective than outright declarations of power.

The Director's approach earlier had been telling. Though outwardly composed, the man's aura had wavered, an almost imperceptible crack in his facade. It was a subtle thing, but to Ashen, it spoke volumes. The Director was accustomed to commanding respect, to standing at the pinnacle of authority within this organization. Yet even he had faltered in the presence of something he could not fully comprehend. That uncertainty was a tool Ashen intended to wield with precision.

"An abode," he had requested, the word deliberately chosen. It was not a demand for luxury or accommodation but a statement of intent. The Director would comply, if only to maintain a semblance of control over the situation. And in doing so, he would unwittingly grant Ashen the space he needed to observe, to adapt, and to plan.

Time passed, though Ashen paid it little heed. His patience was boundless, a trait honed through years of solitude and calculated ascension in Murim. Minutes or hours held little distinction in the grand scheme of his designs. He remained still, a sentinel overlooking the chaos below, his thoughts weaving intricate webs of possibility.

When the Director returned, his expression was carefully neutral, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed the weight of the situation. "Your accommodations are prepared," he announced, his tone formal. "A suite in the western wing. You'll find it sufficient for your needs."

Ashen turned his gaze to the Director, his expression inscrutable. "You have my gratitude, Director," he said, his words carrying a faint edge of irony. "I trust it will serve as an adequate vantage point."

The Director hesitated, then nodded. "If there's anything else—"

"There is nothing," Ashen interrupted smoothly. "For now, your efforts suffice."

With that, the Director departed once more, leaving Ashen alone on the balcony. Yet he was far from alone in spirit.

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Vyl'Liraen observed the unfolding scene with a calm intensity, her unique connection to spatial currents allowing her to perceive the disruptions in mana as though they were ripples on a still lake. From her vantage point in the shadowed alcove of the atrium, her vibrant, spatially-shifting eyes followed the faint, distorted shimmer emanating from the balcony above. Ashen Veyrath, the name whispered in reverence and fear, lingered in her thoughts like an unanswered riddle.

The pulse of his aura had been unmistakable—like a tidal wave crashing through the intricate web of mana that permeated the building. The initial surge had felt invasive, testing. Calculating. It had drawn gasps, staggered movements, and a flood of wary glances. Yet, to her, the sensation was not overwhelming. If anything, it was familiar. Power wielded not out of necessity, but to establish presence. To provoke.

Her gaze flicked to the other S-rank hunter who had been quietly monitoring the scene, a brief nod passed between them. Unlike many of the hunters who cowered or speculated below, she felt no fear. Caution, yes. Respect for the raw energy emanating from above, certainly. But fear? That was a luxury she had discarded long ago.

Taking a step forward, her dimensional cloak rippled faintly, catching faint glimmers of light as it melded with her surroundings. The movement was deliberate, her presence an undeniable tether to the reality Ashen had sought to distort. She ascended the steps leading toward the balcony, each stride marked by a quiet confidence. The murmur of the crowd behind her fell away as she approached, her aura expanding ever so slightly in response to the unseen challenge hanging in the air.

When she reached the edge of the balcony, she did not immediately speak. Instead, she stood there waiting for the director to finish speaking with the new "guest", her silhouette framed by the dazzling expanse of Lake Geneva. The turbulent interplay of space and dimension flickered subtly around her as her eyes met Ashen's. They were an uncanny match to his silver gaze, not in color, but in the unspoken depth of power and experience behind them.

"An observer," Vyl finally said, her voice carrying effortlessly through the charged air. There was no need to raise it; her words were infused with the kind of authority that demanded attention. "Yet even an observer leaves ripples in the world they seek to watch."

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, but her tone faintly tinged with curiosity. "Did you come to test us, Ashen Veyrath? Or merely to watch us squirm under the weight of your presence?"

Her words were neither confrontational nor deferential. They were measured, spoken by someone who had long since learned the art of speaking to power without succumbing to it. She allowed a faint, almost playful smile to tug at the corner of her lips.

"If it's the latter, I can assure you, most of the hunters here are already suitably impressed. But some of us..." Her gaze sharpened momentarily, her aura tightening into a blade-like precision. "Are more interested in actions than posturing."

Vyl stepped closer, the distance between them now marked by an almost tangible tension. "If you intend to linger here, know that Earth has a way of drawing even its most reluctant participants into the fray." Her voice softened slightly, a note of warning threading through her words. "The question isn't whether you'll watch, Ashen. It's what you'll do when the ripples you've created start to pull you under."

She turned away then, her movements fluid and unhurried, as though she had already said all she needed to. "I'll be waiting to see which path you choose," she added, her voice carrying back to him like an echo through the fissures of space. Without another glance, she descended the steps, returning to the rest of the hunters waiting below. "Feel free to observe humanity for as long as you can."

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Ashen Veyrath stood with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, a picture of unyielding composure against the balcony's edge. His silver gaze swept across the atrium below, his expression as calm and inscrutable as a polished obsidian mirror. The faint shimmer of mana that marked his presence seemed to ripple outward like an imperceptible tide, brushing against every corner of the room. To the gathered hunters below, it was suffocating, an unspoken dominance that demanded reverence.

And yet, as he observed the woman ascending toward him, there was the faintest flicker of intrigue beneath the glacial surface of his demeanour. She moved with precision, each step measured and deliberate. Her dimensional cloak rippled faintly, bending light around her like a veil of secrets. It was not her outward confidence that caught his interest, nor the subtle authority in her gaze as she approached. No, it was the absence of fear in her bearing. She neither faltered nor averted her eyes, her body language void of the usual deference he had come to expect.

He catalogued her every movement, every microexpression. The slight tilt of her head when she first met his gaze, the almost imperceptible tightening of her jaw as the weight of his aura pressed against her. She had felt it, no one escaped the oppressive pulse of his presence unscathed, but she had not wavered. Her defiance was quiet, calculated. It amused him.

When she spoke, her voice cut through the charged air with a precision that belied her seemingly composed exterior. Her words, carefully chosen and deliberate, were an open challenge cloaked in civility.

"An observer," she had called him, her tone carrying an almost playful undercurrent.

A faint twitch of his lips, not quite a smile, marked his response. His silver eyes, glinting with something that might have been curiosity, remained fixed on her as she continued. She questioned his purpose, her gaze sharp and probing, and for a moment, the faintest shadow of a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. It was not humour but something darker, a recognition of the audacity in her words.

When she finished and turned away, leaving her parting remark to linger like a phantom in the air, he let the silence stretch. He was in no hurry to respond. Instead, he allowed his gaze to follow her retreating figure, his mind sifting through the myriad impressions she had left in her wake. Her movements, her tone, even the faint play of spatial energy around her, all of it painted a portrait of someone accustomed to wielding power, though in a manner far different from his own.

Finally, he moved. The shift was subtle, a slight straightening of his posture as he released his hands and let them fall to his sides. His steps were measured as he closed the distance she had placed between them, descending the steps with an unhurried grace. Each step echoed faintly, the sound carrying through the atrium like the tolling of a bell.

The hunters below grew tense as he approached, their unease palpable in the air. But he paid them no mind. His focus was singular, his attention fixed solely on the enigmatic figure who had dared to confront him.

When he stopped, he stood close enough that the faint shimmer of his aura mingled with hers, the interplay of their energies creating an almost tangible tension in the air. He regarded her with the same cool, detached expression he had worn since his arrival, but his words, when he finally spoke, carried a weight that seemed to press against the very fabric of reality.

"Ripples," he repeated, his voice a low, glacial monotone. The single word lingered, as though he were testing its texture against the charged silence. "Is that how you perceive it? A ripple in a still pond?"

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as though dissecting her very essence. "Interesting."

There was a pause, deliberate and heavy, before he continued. "Do you know what becomes of the pond when the ripples grow unchecked? The surface breaks. The depths churn. And what lies beneath… surfaces."

His tone was devoid of emotion, yet there was an undeniable menace threaded through his words. It was not a threat, not overtly. It was a statement of inevitability, delivered with the cold detachment of someone who had long since transcended the need for bluster.

"You… amuse me," he said finally, his silver eyes glinting with something akin to amusement, though his expression remained as unreadable as ever. "It's rare to find someone who speaks so freely in my presence. Rarer still to find someone who understands the consequences of doing so."

He took a step closer, the distance between them now razor-thin, and lowered his voice to a near-whisper, though it carried with perfect clarity. "Tell me, stranger, is it bravery that compels you? Or ignorance?"

Before she could answer, he straightened, his gaze sweeping over the gathered hunters, who now watched in stunned silence. His presence, already oppressive, seemed to expand, filling the atrium with a suffocating weight.

"You spoke of actions," he said, his voice carrying an edge of mockery as he turned his attention back to her. "And yet, here you stand. Speaking. Posturing. Perhaps you overestimate your own conviction."

His gaze bore into hers, unrelenting and cold. And yet, for all his words, there was no hostility in his expression. Only curiosity, tempered by an undercurrent of something darker.

"But I will grant you this," he said, his tone softening ever so slightly. "You've succeeded in piquing my interest. For now."

He turned then, his movements fluid and precise, and began to walk away, his back to her as though dismissing the encounter entirely. But as he reached the edge of the atrium, he paused, glancing back over his shoulder.

"When the ripples you spoke of grow into waves, we shall see whether you sink or swim. Until then… amuse me further, if you can."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, his presence lingering like a phantom in the minds of those who had witnessed the exchange. For all his words and the calculated menace in his demeanour, there was one thing that had been unmistakably clear:

Ashen Veyrath had found something worth watching.

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Vyl'Liraen watched him retreat into the shadows, her gaze unwavering even as his oppressive presence lingered like a tangible weight. Her dimensional cloak shimmered faintly, the rippling energy dancing across the fabric as though responding to her thoughts. She exhaled slowly, her expression measured, her mind turning over his words like a puzzle, each piece carefully examined and slotted into place.

For all his veiled menace and cold authority, she found his words less intimidating and more… telling. Ripples grow into waves, do they? A faint smile tugged at her lips, the kind of smile that did not reach her eyes. She let the silence settle around her for a moment longer, her spatial energy contracting and expanding in a deliberate rhythm, as if testing the boundaries of the space he had filled.

Turning toward the atrium below, where the gathered hunters stood frozen in uneasy silence, Vyl'Liraen stepped forward, her movements fluid, her presence magnetic. Her voice, when it came, carried across the room with a clarity that cut through the tension like a blade.

"Ripples do not simply grow into waves," she said, her tone calm yet laden with a quiet confidence that demanded attention. "They carry intent, shaped by the force that created them. A still pond may be disturbed, yes, but it is the purpose behind the disturbance that defines what surfaces."

Her gaze swept across the room, pausing briefly on the lingering shadows where Ashen Veyrath had disappeared. "And sometimes, what rises from the depths was never meant to be hidden at all."

She allowed her words to hang in the air, the weight of them resonating with the onlookers. Slowly, her dimensional cloak shifted again, its energy brushing against the edges of their perception like a whisper, gentle yet undeniable.

"As for whether I sink or swim," she added, tilting her head slightly as if in thought, "that depends on whose waters we're treading, does it not? And, of course, who dares to tread alongside me."

Without waiting for a response, or even expecting one, Vyl'Liraen finished descending the steps. Most of the hunters parted instinctively, their gazes a mix of awe and apprehension as she passed. Though her steps carried her away from the atrium and towards the Grand Assembly Hall once more, the subtle pulse of her spatial energy lingered like a whisper of defiance, a reminder that this encounter was far from over.

Ashen Veyrath disappeared into the shadows, his imposing presence dissolving into the darkness like a fading spectre. His movements were precise, calculated, as if every step had been predetermined. The very air around him seemed to grow heavier as his aura flickered, pulling the shadows closer, until he was swallowed entirely by them. He reappeared moments later, seamlessly transitioning from the void into the grand suite provided for him by the Hunter Association, deep in the western wing of their sprawling headquarters.

The room was bathed in muted, golden light from the setting sun, casting long shadows against the stone walls. Ashen stood still, his silver eyes gleaming faintly in the dimness, his presence alone almost tangible in its intensity. He walked slowly to the centre of the suite, his footsteps echoing against the polished stone floors. He took a moment, eyes closing, to feel the pulse of the surrounding space, as though attuning himself to the subtle rhythms of the building. The air thickened, his consciousness sharpening, his focus narrowing to the mana within him.

In a single fluid motion, Ashen raised his hands, his fingers curling slightly as though holding an invisible thread. The mana within him responded immediately, coiling around his body like a living thing. With a deliberate breath, he began to channel it, drawing the energy into his core and sending it coursing through every fibre of his being. His internal channels, like veins of ancient, untapped power, pulsed to life. The mana began to swirl around him in a vortex, growing faster, denser, more refined as his cultivation deepened.

For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath, the walls themselves seeming to hum with energy, anticipating the storm that was brewing. Then, the air itself trembled as Ashen's mana exploded outward, a radiant tide of energy that flooded the suite, expanding like a wave crashing against a shoreline. The very foundations of the building seemed to groan under the sheer weight of his power, a feeling of something enormous being unleashed.

Outside the suite, in the atrium and hallways, the other hunters froze, their bodies tense with fear as the pulse of Ashen's energy reached them. Those too weak to resist cowered, their knees buckling under the weight of the suffocating aura. Some fell to the ground, clutching their chests, their faces pale with dread. Even the bravest of them could not escape the pervasive pressure that seemed to bear down from all sides.

Ashen's energy continued to radiate outward, unstoppable, relentless, as though the very building had become an extension of his will. But as the intensity of the flow peaked, a fleeting thought brushed against his mind, Vyl'Liraen's words, cutting through his concentration like a blade.

"Ripples do not simply grow into waves. They carry intent, shaped by the force that created them..."

The words echoed in his mind, but he dismissed them with ease, a mere nuisance. Her confidence, her quiet assurance, was nothing more than the idle chatter of someone who had yet to understand the true weight of power. He had already seen through her, her words, her intentions, and the invisible threads she wove around those she sought to manipulate.

Yet, in the briefest of moments, a flicker of curiosity passed through him. "And sometimes, what rises from the depths was never meant to be hidden at all."

Ashen's silver eyes flickered open as the last of his mana surged outward. He smirked, dismissing the fleeting thought of Vyl'Liraen and the games she played. She was an interesting pawn, but no more than that, at least, for now. He knew, however, that her presence was not a mere accident.

Archane.

Her name lingered in his mind for a heartbeat longer than it should have. That woman, the Weaver Monarch, had always intrigued him. She had the power to see past the surface, to pull at the threads of fate in ways that even Ashen's unyielding will could not fully understand. It was that very ability that had drawn him to her, a curiosity that gnawed at him, even in the midst of his cultivation.

But for now, he would let it go.

The breakthrough he had been striving for, the deepening of his mana, was complete. His energy flowed through him like a river, unimpeded. His presence in the room, his power, was undeniable. The faintest of smiles crept onto his lips as he opened his eyes, a glimmer of satisfaction. It was the same satisfaction that came with knowing that his game, his true game, had only just begun.

Vyl'Liraen's words? They no longer mattered.

Not now. Not when the world itself trembled at his touch.

firejay1 · Dec 25, 2024

Ginevieve had been chatting with a member of the guild Wolf's Tooth - if chatting could be used to describe cheery snark, that was - when the sudden force of aura came rocketing through the room. Her legs staggered, and she found herself with one knee braced against the ground. She scowled over at where she'd sensed it coming from. Who the hell? Other people were shaking off the initial shock, gathering their wits about them, gossiping. Ah, the rumored S-ranker from another world. Some dumbass name like Smokey Veymad. She stood up, shaking her cloak a bit to get off any dust that had settled on it. Show-off. It was a good thing she'd been prepared for mana sensers.

Freckles, who hadn't left her side for even a moment, was pale. She had also gotten back up to her feet, though she had originally collapsed entirely to her knees, but she didn't look quite steady on them. C-rankers, honestly.

"Come on, kid." Jen said, propping one of the girl's arms around her shoulders. "Keep it together. It's a pretty poor showing for Valkyries if you just pass out whenever someone strong comes barging into the room." Not that everyone else was doing well, either. The lower rankers were clearly still reeling, some of them still on the ground.

Jen rolled her eyes before staring back up at the balcony. He was tall, with hair somewhere between pepper and pinstripe, and he held his hands behind him, watching them all with eyes whose color she couldn't quite discern from this distance, but which certainly weren't any one of the normal colors. The martial monarch, they'd called him. Some monarch, better to call him a T-rex, if all he could inspire was fear. The pressure layered over the room from his simply being there felt more of a threat than anything she'd call really organic. As far as she could tell, he wanted them to notice him, recognize his might. Drama queen. She watched curiously as another S-ranker approached him, a freelancer she wished Valkyries could get their hands on, but well, The Gravity Queen wasn't exactly going to agree to be a drone in a guild of women who largely ranked below her. S-rankers were guild masters, not followers. Normally, anyways. She couldn't hear their conversation from the ground of the hall, but she could guess well enough that there was some of the usual... dick measuring, going on.

Without any care for the rest of them, the two S-rankers had a short conversation, then the one who had caused all the commotion turned and walked out of her line of sight. He didn't take his oppressive presence with him, though. For a moment, she thought it had, but the girl around her shoulders kind of faintly said, "Oh God, what is he doing?"

"What?" Ginny snapped back, confused.

"He shouldn't be touching that." She muttered, sounding mostly delirious.

Then the same mana ripped through the entire building. Now prepared for it, Ginevieve merely made a face in the direction from where it came, not getting the chance to stick her tongue out childishly before freckles vomited at their feet.

Atomic65 · Dec 30, 2024

Konnor Could Be seen Walking Into The Hunter Headquarters And Arriving At The Receptionist Who Was Responsible For The Sparing Matches. As He Walked Towards The Receptionist He Look Around Observing His Surrounding He Notices All The Hunters That Were In the Area. From Freelancers Like Himself To Guild Leader and Members. But None of them peaked his interest As He Waited for the Last person to finish signing Up before walking up to the Receptionist. Excuse Me Is this were I sign up For the Sparing Matches? He Asked As The Receptionist As They nodded As They asked Him For there Hunters Licence And Signing The Form For The Sparing Matches. Konnor Reached into His Back pocket And Pulled out his Licence As He Gives it to The Receptionist While Also Grabbing The Sparing Forms. Once He Was Done Signing The Form He Gave It Back to the Receptionist While Also getting Back His Licence. Once He Got back his Licence The Receptionist Instructed Him To Go Down the Hall to The Left And Go Down The Hall With The Brown bird Design As That's were Most of the D-Rank Matches Take Place. Konnor Thanked The Receptionist As Walks Away from the Receptionist Desk And Starts Searching For A Sparing Panther.

Minarawr · Dec 31, 2024

The Assembly Hall Announcement

After the surprising appearance of Ashen Veyrath, and the wave of nervous whispers following it, the time had finally come for the announcement most hunters had arrived for.

"All hunters, please report to the assembly hall for the Hunter Association's Global Threat briefing. The briefing will commence in 10 minutes."

The grand assembly hall fell silent as the event's host stepped onto the elevated dais. A man of slight build, clad in deep indigo robes lined with golden sigils, radiated authority not through strength but through the weight of his words. His voice, steady and clear, carried through the chamber, amplified by subtle threads of mana.

"Hunters, I thank you all for gathering here on such short notice," he began, his gaze sweeping across the room. "You are not here for politics or pride. You are here because the world faces an unprecedented threat."

The audience stirred, whispers breaking out, but a wave of mana from the host silenced them.

"As you all know, red gates have begun to appear with alarming frequency. Unlike standard gates, red gates present unique challenges. They are undetectable until someone has entered them, making them a hidden threat until it is too late. Once a specific number of hunters cross the threshold, the gate seals itself, allowing no one in or out. Escape is not an option.

"The only way to close a red gate is to kill the dungeon's boss. Failing to do so results in catastrophe. If a red gate remains open for too long, it destabilizes, unleashing torrents of mana and monstrous horrors that spill into our world. Towns vanish. Ecosystems collapse. Nature itself bends under the strain. You all know this event, as a dungeon break."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle.

"The increasing frequency of these red gates is no coincidence. The surge is spreading chaos across the continent. This crisis demands coordinated efforts. No single guild, faction, or hunter can handle this alone. It is time to set aside rivalries and work together. Lives depend on it. "

A massive projection appeared behind him, showing a map dotted with the locations of recently detected red gates, marked in ominous crimson.

"We have divided the continents into seven regions, each with multiple suspected red gates. Hunters must organize into teams and focus on securing these areas. This is not an individual effort but a collective mission. Cooperation will be key to survival. The leading guilds of each continent will be taking charge of the operations for all hunters. Keystones will be handed out to all hunters to provide free access to the teleportation gates of every major hunter HQ per continent." he gestured at the attendants that had started to move through the crowd of hunters with a basket full of small, shimmering stones. Upon touching said stone, it would glow and inscribe a faint marking on the hunter's palm, before fading once more.

His tone shifted, his voice firm yet resolute. "Specialized guilds will take point for operations in each region, but all hunters, regardless of rank or affiliation, are required to assist. Lives hang in the balance. The world itself hangs in the balance."

Before stepping back, he offered a final, steadying remark. "This is the fight of our lives—not for glory, but for survival. Show the world what it means to be a hunter."

As he descended from the dais, the room erupted into a cacophony of voices. Hunters scrambled to discuss plans, assess allies, and claim roles in the unfolding mission.

Vyl stood amidst the shifting crowd, arms crossed as her sharp gaze dissected the map. The flickering crimson gates demanded attention, each a new threat demanding decisive action.

Kael Draeven appeared at her side, his typical smirk tempered by unease. "Locked in once you go in, huh? No turning back."

"That's the reality," Vyl replied simply, her tone steady despite the tension.

He whistled low. "Red gates were bad enough before. Now? You'd better pick your team carefully. One wrong move, and it's over."

Her eyes remained fixed on the map. "This isn't about picking the right team. It's about ensuring no one's left behind."

Kael glanced at her, his smirk faltering. "You make it sound so easy."

"It's not," she said softly, "but that doesn't mean we stop trying."

As the crowd churned around them, Vyl's thoughts drifted to the enigmatic Ashen Veyrath. For someone like him, new to this world and steeped in untapped potential, what role would he play in this crisis? The gates were closing fast, and the hunters had no choice but to rise to the challenge.

Soon after the announcement made by the Hunter Association, all hunters would be pointed towards 7 booths, lining the great hall. Each booth had a holographic screen positioned next to it with a detailed explanation of the area, how many red gates were suspected to be found there and general information about the leading guilds per continent, allowing hunters to inspect the threat level and determine which they could better handle.

North America	South America	Europe	Asia	Africa	Australia and Oceania	Antarctica
Leading Guild: Ironclad Dominion HQ: Apex Tower, New York City. Suspected red gates: 13 to 15	Leading Guild: Emerald Covenant HQ: Verdant Haven, somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest. Suspected red gates: 11 to 12	Leading Guild: Crimson Vanguard HQ: Emberkeep Fortress, somewhere in the Black Forest, Germany. Suspected red gates: 12 to 14	Leading Guild: Celestial Blades HQ: Skyreach Monastery, somewhere in the Himalayas. Suspected red gates: 14 to 16	Leading Guild: Obsidian Pact HQ: Shardspire Citadel, atop Mount Kilimanjaro. Suspected red gates: 11 to 12	Leading Guild: Azure Wardens HQ: Tempest Reef Outpost, underwater base, somewhere around the Great Barrier Reef. Suspected red gates: 11 to 12	Leading Guild: Frozen Nexus HQ: Glacial Apex, a facility buried beneath Antarctic ice. Suspected red gates: 10 to 11

It took Vyl barely any time to choose which booth she would head to, swiftly heading to the booth run by the Celestial Blades to announce her intention to help.

Surge0fHex · Jan 1, 2025

The Calm Before Chaos

Ashen Veyrath sat in the solitude of his suite, the energy of his breakthrough still humming faintly within him. The opulence of the room was understated yet undeniable, with the dark mahogany furnishings and the soft flicker of the fireplace casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. A glass of untouched wine rested on the table beside him, its crimson surface reflecting the glint of his silver eyes as he leaned back in his chair. His gaze lingered on the distant horizon visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sprawling city of Geneva alive with lights.

Yet, for all the tranquillity surrounding him, Ashen's thoughts were elsewhere. Memories of another time, another place, another life, slipped into his mind like uninvited guests. His deceased son, Ardyn. The name alone brought a heaviness to his chest, a weight he had learned to carry but could never set down.

Arrival at Emberkeep Fortress

The Emberkeep Fortress was a bastion of steel and stone, nestled deep within the Black Forest. Its crimson banners bore the sigil of the Crimson Vanguard, a phoenix rising from flames. When Ashen emerged at the fortress gates, the scene was one of controlled chaos. Hunters scurried like ants, their hurried movements betraying the tension in the air. He was met by a frazzled guild official, who barely managed a greeting before launching into a hurried explanation.

"Master Veyrath, thank you for responding so quickly. We've detected multiple C-class gates in the area, twelve to fourteen by our estimates. Most of them are concentrated in a five-kilometre radius, and the monsters are spilling out faster than we can handle."

Ashen waved a hand, cutting the man's rambling short. "Spare me the details. Where are your hunters now?"

The Battlefront

The northern perimeter was a scene of carnage. The air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat, mingling with the acrid tang of burning wood. Hunters were locked in desperate combat against hulking orcs, their green skin glistening under the pale moonlight. The monsters roared, their crude weapons smashing through defences as hunters scrambled to hold their ground.

Ashen stood at the edge of the fray, his silver eyes sweeping over the battlefield. He had no intention of intervening, not yet. Instead, he watched, his gaze cold and analytical. He wanted to see how these hunters fared against adversity, how they adapted, how they broke.

Then he saw him.

A boy, no older than ten, standing frozen amidst the chaos. His small frame trembled as he clutched a short sword far too large for him. Ashen's breath caught for the briefest of moments. The boy's eyes, wide with fear, were silver. The same silver as Ardyn's.

The orc's axe came down with the force of a falling star, but it never reached its mark. Ashen appeared between the boy and the monster, his hand raised, palm open. The axe halted inches from his skin, caught in an invisible field of raw mana. The orc's eyes widened in confusion and rage, but Ashen's expression remained impassive.

The Weight of Regret

He turned back to the boy, who still stood where he had left him, trembling but unharmed. Ashen knelt, his imposing frame shrinking just enough to meet the boy's wide-eyed gaze. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice softer now.

"… Caine," the boy whispered.

For a moment, Ashen said nothing. He rose, his cold demeanour returning as he gestured for one of the nearby hunters. "Take him to his parents," he ordered.

The weight of his past pressed against him, heavier than ever. Yet, as always, he bore it in silence. His work here was not done. The gates were still open, their malevolent energy seeping into the world. The outbreak was far from over, and Ashen had no intention of leaving it unfinished.

And so, Ashen Veyrath stepped forward, into the heart of the chaos once more.

Surge0fHex · Jan 4, 2025

The Calm Before Chaos: The Encounter at Emberkeep

The northern perimeter of Emberkeep Fortress remained a battlefield steeped in chaos. Fires crackled and spread through the treeline, as roars of pain and defiance echoed into the night. The hunters, though numerous, faltered as the relentless waves of monsters poured forth from multiple C-class gates, an unending tide of brutality that chipped away at their morale. Amidst the chaos, Ashen Veyrath, a lone figure clad in black, exuding an aura of unyielding dominance, strode forward, his silver eyes cold and detached.

The child, Caine, had been whisked away by a trembling hunter at Ashen's command, leaving the Martial Monarch unencumbered once more. He stepped lightly over the bloodied ground, his boots untouched by the viscera staining the battlefield. His gaze lingered briefly on a faltering line of hunters before he turned his attention to the looming red gate in the distance. Its pulsating glow radiated menace, the gateway's arcane hum vibrating in his chest like a malevolent heartbeat. Yet, for all its ominous energy, it failed to stir anything in Ashen beyond a faint curiosity.

The telltale crunch of armoured boots approached from his left. Ashen didn't turn, but his senses flared, cataloguing the newcomers before they could utter a word. Five figures approached: one stoic and imposing, his massive greatsword slung across his back; a woman with sharp features and a glowing barrier shimmering faintly around her; a gruff man hefting a massive cannon; a wiry tracker whose sharp eyes darted over the battlefield; and finally, the towering leader whose sheer presence was impossible to ignore.

Magnus Draeger, the Guild Leader of the Crimson Vanguard, stopped several paces away, his graying hair dishevelled but his posture unyielding. He regarded Ashen with a mixture of respect and suspicion. The scene of the child's rescue lingered in his mind, but so did the sight of Ashen's inaction in the face of the carnage.

"You have impressive timing," Magnus began, his deep voice cutting through the din of the battlefield. "But I can't help but notice you're standing idle while my people bleed to protect this fortress. Care to explain?"

Ashen finally turned his head, his silver eyes locking onto Magnus. The faint flicker of disdain crossed his face before he responded, his tone measured and icy. "Explain? I am no part of your guild. The plight of your hunters is not my concern."

Magnus frowned, his hand instinctively tightening around the hilt of his greatsword. Before he could reply, the barrier mage, Anya Volkova, stepped forward, her sharp wit cutting in.

"Not your concern? You stepped in to save a boy but left the rest of us to fend for ourselves. Either you're here to help, or you're just here to watch us die. Which is it?"

Ashen's gaze flicked to her, and for a moment, the surrounding air seemed to grow heavier. "I have no obligation to explain myself to the likes of you," he said, his voice tinged with irritation. "Your guild's inefficiencies are your own burden to bear."

The gruff man, Victor Blackthorne, let out a low growl, his hands tightening around his cannon. "I don't care who you think you are, but you don't get to stand there, oozing power, and pretend this mess isn't partly your responsibility now. You're here. You're involved."

Clara Weiss, the tracker, spoke up next, her voice calm but firm. "The gates are spilling faster than expected. We have the manpower to hold the line, but only just. If you're capable of tipping the scales, then you should. Otherwise, your presence here serves no purpose but to mock our efforts."

Ashen's lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile that didn't reach his eyes. He admired their tenacity, if only slightly. It was rare to find individuals who dared challenge him, even if their pleas grated on his nerves. He turned his attention back to Magnus, dismissing the others with a glance.

"You misunderstand me," Ashen said, his tone soft yet cutting. "I am not here for you or your hunters. The gates interest me, and I will address them in my own time. Whether your forces survive until then is immaterial."

Magnus took a step closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow. "We don't have time for your ego, stranger. Those gates are a threat to everyone in this region, not just my guild. If you're as powerful as you seem, then prove it. Help us clear the red gate before more lives are lost."

Ashen's expression hardened, his patience wearing thin. He considered walking away, leaving these S-class hunters to their desperate attempts at diplomacy. Yet, something in Magnus's tone, the unyielding resolve of a leader who genuinely cared for his people, stayed his hand.

"Fine," Ashen said, his voice dripping with irritation. "If only to silence your incessant pleading."

Anya opened her mouth to retort, but Magnus held up a hand, silencing her. "Thank you," he said simply. "We'll provide support. The Orc King is no ordinary foe, even for someone of your calibre."

Ashen scoffed, a low, humorless chuckle escaping him. "Support? I have no need for it. Stay out of my way, and you might live long enough to thank me."

Without waiting for a response, Ashen strode toward the red gate, his movements fluid and deliberate. The surrounding aura shifted, growing heavier and more oppressive. The air seemed to ripple with unseen power as he approached the gateway, the swirling crimson energy parting slightly as if in deference to his presence.

Magnus and his team exchanged wary glances before following at a distance. Anya muttered under her breath, "Arrogant prick." Victor grunted in agreement, while Clara remained silent, her sharp eyes fixed on Ashen's back.

As they stepped through the gate, the world shifted. The vibrant chaos of the battlefield faded, replaced by the eerie stillness of the dungeon. The air was thick with mana, and the dim light cast long shadows over the jagged terrain. At the heart of the cavernous space stood the Orc King, a hulking behemoth nearly twice the size of its kin. Its crimson armour gleamed with malevolent energy, and its massive battleaxe radiated destructive power.

Ashen didn't hesitate. He stepped forward, his silver eyes locking onto the Orc King. The creature roared, its bellow shaking the ground, but Ashen remained unfazed. He raised a hand, and the surrounding air shimmered as his Dimensional Convergence Aura flared to life. Space itself seemed to distort, the mana in the dungeon bending to his will.

The battle that followed was a spectacle of raw power and precision. The Orc King charged, its axe cleaving through the air with devastating force. Ashen met it head-on, his movements a blur as he sidestepped the attack with ease. His counterstrike was effortless, a single punch that sent the creature skidding back, the ground cracking beneath it.

Magnus and his team watched in stunned silence as Ashen dismantled the Orc King with clinical efficiency. Every move he made was calculated, every strike perfectly timed. It was a display of mastery that left even seasoned S-class hunters in awe.

Yet, as the Orc King fell, its massive form collapsing to the ground, Ashen turned back to the group, his expression unchanged. "Your pest problem is dealt with," he said curtly. "Try not to waste my time again."

Before they could respond, Ashen stepped past them, his form vanishing into the shadows of the gate. Magnus watched him go, a mixture of gratitude and unease settling in his chest. Whatever this man's true intentions, one thing was certain: Ashen Veyrath was a force unlike any they had encountered before.

AnimeQueenVAVR · Thursday at 8:22 AM

Minarawr said:
The Assembly Hall Announcement

After the surprising appearance of Ashen Veyrath, and the wave of nervous whispers following it, the time had finally come for the announcement most hunters had arrived for.

"All hunters, please report to the assembly hall for the Hunter Association's Global Threat briefing. The briefing will commence in 10 minutes."

The grand assembly hall fell silent as the event's host stepped onto the elevated dais. A man of slight build, clad in deep indigo robes lined with golden sigils, radiated authority not through strength but through the weight of his words. His voice, steady and clear, carried through the chamber, amplified by subtle threads of mana.

"Hunters, I thank you all for gathering here on such short notice," he began, his gaze sweeping across the room. "You are not here for politics or pride. You are here because the world faces an unprecedented threat."

The audience stirred, whispers breaking out, but a wave of mana from the host silenced them.

"As you all know, red gates have begun to appear with alarming frequency. Unlike standard gates, red gates present unique challenges. They are undetectable until someone has entered them, making them a hidden threat until it is too late. Once a specific number of hunters cross the threshold, the gate seals itself, allowing no one in or out. Escape is not an option.

"The only way to close a red gate is to kill the dungeon's boss. Failing to do so results in catastrophe. If a red gate remains open for too long, it destabilizes, unleashing torrents of mana and monstrous horrors that spill into our world. Towns vanish. Ecosystems collapse. Nature itself bends under the strain. You all know this event, as a dungeon break."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle.

"The increasing frequency of these red gates is no coincidence. The surge is spreading chaos across the continent. This crisis demands coordinated efforts. No single guild, faction, or hunter can handle this alone. It is time to set aside rivalries and work together. Lives depend on it. "

A massive projection appeared behind him, showing a map dotted with the locations of recently detected red gates, marked in ominous crimson.

"We have divided the continents into seven regions, each with multiple suspected red gates. Hunters must organize into teams and focus on securing these areas. This is not an individual effort but a collective mission. Cooperation will be key to survival. The leading guilds of each continent will be taking charge of the operations for all hunters. Keystones will be handed out to all hunters to provide free access to the teleportation gates of every major hunter HQ per continent." he gestured at the attendants that had started to move through the crowd of hunters with a basket full of small, shimmering stones. Upon touching said stone, it would glow and inscribe a faint marking on the hunter's palm, before fading once more.

His tone shifted, his voice firm yet resolute. "Specialized guilds will take point for operations in each region, but all hunters, regardless of rank or affiliation, are required to assist. Lives hang in the balance. The world itself hangs in the balance."

Before stepping back, he offered a final, steadying remark. "This is the fight of our lives—not for glory, but for survival. Show the world what it means to be a hunter."

As he descended from the dais, the room erupted into a cacophony of voices. Hunters scrambled to discuss plans, assess allies, and claim roles in the unfolding mission.

Vyl stood amidst the shifting crowd, arms crossed as her sharp gaze dissected the map. The flickering crimson gates demanded attention, each a new threat demanding decisive action.

Kael Draeven appeared at her side, his typical smirk tempered by unease. "Locked in once you go in, huh? No turning back."

"That's the reality," Vyl replied simply, her tone steady despite the tension.

He whistled low. "Red gates were bad enough before. Now? You'd better pick your team carefully. One wrong move, and it's over."

Her eyes remained fixed on the map. "This isn't about picking the right team. It's about ensuring no one's left behind."

Kael glanced at her, his smirk faltering. "You make it sound so easy."

"It's not," she said softly, "but that doesn't mean we stop trying."

As the crowd churned around them, Vyl's thoughts drifted to the enigmatic Ashen Veyrath. For someone like him, new to this world and steeped in untapped potential, what role would he play in this crisis? The gates were closing fast, and the hunters had no choice but to rise to the challenge.

Soon after the announcement made by the Hunter Association, all hunters would be pointed towards 7 booths, lining the great hall. Each booth had a holographic screen positioned next to it with a detailed explanation of the area, how many red gates were suspected to be found there and general information about the leading guilds per continent, allowing hunters to inspect the threat level and determine which they could better handle.

North America South America Europe Asia Africa Australia and Oceania Antarctica

Leading Guild: Ironclad Dominion
HQ: Apex Tower, New York City.
Suspected red gates: 13 to 15 Leading Guild: Emerald Covenant
HQ: Verdant Haven, somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest.
Suspected red gates: 11 to 12
Leading Guild: Crimson Vanguard
HQ: Emberkeep Fortress, somewhere in the Black Forest, Germany.
Suspected red gates: 12 to 14
Leading Guild: Celestial Blades
HQ: Skyreach Monastery, somewhere in the Himalayas.
Suspected red gates: 14 to 16
Leading Guild: Obsidian Pact
HQ: Shardspire Citadel, atop Mount Kilimanjaro.
Suspected red gates: 11 to 12
Leading Guild: Azure Wardens
HQ: Tempest Reef Outpost, underwater base, somewhere around the Great Barrier Reef.
Suspected red gates: 11 to 12
Leading Guild: Frozen Nexus
HQ: Glacial Apex, a facility buried beneath Antarctic ice.
Suspected red gates: 10 to 11

It took Vyl barely any time to choose which booth she would head to, swiftly heading to the booth run by the Celestial Blades to announce her intention to help.

CHIHIRO | AKIHIKO

image

After the announcement while at the Grand Assembly Hall at the Hunter Association Headquarters (pretend that they were there, please! Tysm!), Chihiro and Akihiko would walk out of the Assembly Hall and then walks to the place where the five booths are. "Hm...." She let out softly. "Now which one should we join, babe?" Chihiro warmly smiled at Akihiko. "Whatever you'd like, sweetheart.." Akihiko said with a flirtatious smirk on his face, to which the 20-year-old reacted with her blushing profusely. He'd chuckle softly, proud that he's seeing this side of her. It just excites him. Chihiro would sense his perverted thoughts and gently slaps him on his hard chest. "P-Perverted bastard...! We're in pu-public! Somebody could he-hear us...!" She stuttered and mentally cursed herself. Shit. She stuttered. And oh, how he loves it when his little cherry blossom stutters. Akihiko smirked devilishly. But, he would quickly get rid of his dirty thoughts, saving them for later for when the two of them are alone. "Hm...Let's go up to..." He drawled as he scanned the five booths. "...Obsidian Pact. It should be good for the two of us, especially me since I am a assassin..." The 21-year-old male commented with a serious expression. Chihiro then nodded and the couple walked up to the booth.

credits

OPEN SIGNUPS | The Age of Scarred Monarchs | IC

Discord: Minarawr#7404

Arc Structure and Progression

The Gates

Hunters and Guilds

The Monarchs and Rulers

A Loom of Realities

Political Turmoil and Fragile Alliances

Discord: Minarawr#7404

Discord: Minarawr#7404

Dragons Are Romance

The Phoenix

Edgebabby

Your Average Autistic VA/Cosplayer

Edgebabby

Discord: Minarawr#7404

Edgebabby

Discord: Minarawr#7404

Edgebabby

The Phoenix

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Discord: Minarawr#7404

The Assembly Hall Announcement

Edgebabby

Edgebabby

Your Average Autistic VA/Cosplayer

The Assembly Hall Announcement