Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

The air between the trees was flowing it such a way it made the leaves dance ever so subtly, but nothing more than that, as though afraid to break the tension, every breath seeming to carry the weight of the standoff.

Marek's expression hardened as he forced his shoulders back, regaining his composure despite the chaos swirling around him. He reached up, pulling down the high collar of his cloak with deliberate precision. Beneath, etched into his skin, was a mark that burned bright red in the dim light.

Aric paused, his casual stride halting as his gaze zeroed in on the mark. For the first time since the confrontation began, his expression shifted from disinterest to genuine intrigue. His lips curved into a half-smile, but his eyes gleamed with something sharper, something dangerous.

"Oh, I see…" Aric said, his voice soft yet cutting. "You bear the mark of dragons. A Flame Crusader, no less." He gestured towards the carriage with a lazy flick of his wrist. "The certainty of this delivery must be of the utmost importance if the Drakens have sent someone like you to guard it."

Marek's jaw tightened. "Prince, I'll ask you one last time—stand aside. Let us pass."

Aric tilted his head, studying Marek like one might inspect a curious animal. "And if I don't?"

Marek's hand dropped to his side, hovering near the hilt of his blade. "Then I will have no choice but to summon a dragon."

A beat of silence passed, and then Aric laughed—a low, mocking sound that echoed through the clearing. "You wouldn't dare."

Marek's eyes narrowed. "And why not?"

Aric stepped closer, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. His voice dropped to a deadly calm, each word precise. "I allow you and your guards the luxury of breathing simply to avoid... diplomatic complications. However," his eyes glinted, "the moment a dragon is seen flying above Valeria—so close to the capital, no less—it will be taken as an act of aggression from the Draken Empire. And then, I will be free to slaughter every last one of you without consequence. Your men, your dragon—gone."

Marek's grip on his blade tightened, but he didn't draw it. "You can't kill a dragon," he said sharply, though there was an edge of uncertainty to his tone.

Aric smiled wider, his teeth flashing in the fading light. "Can't I?" He took another step forward, his presence overwhelming despite the lack of visible threat. "I've been told I couldn't do a great many things, Marek. However, I have an annoying habits of proving people wrong." His voice dropped to a near whisper, a challenge dripping from every syllable. "So, summon your dragon. Please. Make me a hero. Aric Valerian, the Dragon Slayer. Doesn't sound half bad, does it?"

The clearing fell silent.

The guards, still sprawled on the ground behind them, groaned as they began to stir, but none dared to rise. Marek's eyes bore into Aric's, weighing his options. Summoning the dragon might tip the scales in his favor—or it might bring about disaster. And if it failed, the consequences would be catastrophic, not just for him but for the entire Draken delegation.

"What do you want?" Marek finally asked, his voice low and grudging.

"Good." Aric's tone brightened as though Marek had just passed a test. He turned, gesturing lazily toward the carriage. "I'll be taking the documents inside. You and your men will return to the Draken Empire immediately."

Marek's brow furrowed. "And if I refuse to give you this?"

Aric's smile didn't falter. "Then you all die, and I take what I want regardless. It's really quite simple."

Marek's lips pressed into a thin line. "The Draken Imperiality will not take this lightly."

"Oh, I'm counting on that," Aric said breezily. "When you return, be sure to inform your emperor that I'll be paying a visit soon. I'll explain the situation and we'll settle things then." He stepped toward the carriage, ignoring Marek's seething glare.

With a casual wave of his hand, Aric took the documents from within the carriage. They hovered in the air for a moment before vanishing into the subspace of his inventory. As he worked, the guards stirred further, groaning as they picked themselves off the ground.

Their eyes locked onto Aric, tension rippling through their bodies as they prepared to attack.

"Don't." Marek's voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness. The guards hesitated, their grips on their weapons faltering. "It's over."

Aric turned back to Marek, a satisfied smile on his face. "Smart choice. Perhaps we'll meet again in the near future."

He began to walk away, his posture as calm and unbothered as it had been from the start. But then, as if remembering something, he paused and glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, one more thing. My men are watching you. If you so much as think about heading towards the capital instead of returning to Draken territory, they'll ensure I don't see you again. At least, not alive."

Marek's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't respond. There was nothing more to say.

"Well then." Aric's voice turned almost cheerful as his form began to fade into the shadows. "Send my regards to your emperor."

And just like that, he was gone, leaving nothing but a chill in the air and the lingering weight of his words. The guards exchanged uneasy glances, their earlier bravado now replaced by a heavy silence.

Marek exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders finally easing. He glanced at the empty carriage, then at the men around him. "We're leaving," he said, his voice firm. "Now."

Valtor stepped forward, his expression wary. "And the emperor? What do we tell him?"

Marek's gaze darkened. "The truth. Aric Valerian is far more dangerous than we had originally anticipated. He's something else entirely." He turned, his cloak billowing behind him as he began to walk. "And gods help us all if he ever becomes the ruler of the Valerian Empire."