The Invincible Young Master

The dark-robed attackers immediately shifted their focus to the captain, unleashing a barrage of spells.

The captain raised his shield, which shimmered with a protective light, absorbing the blows.

Energy crackled against the shield, vibrating through his arm, but he held firm, refusing to yield an inch.

Behind him, his men hastened their preparations, guiding the carriage through the air, and edging it away from the crater.

Pushing forward with his large shield, he created an opening.

"Now, go!" he shouted over his shoulder.

They hesitated for only a heartbeat, then surged forward with the carriage, pushing it upward with all the strength their magic could muster.

Just then, one of the attackers sneered, "Stop them!"

His hand glowed with dark energy, readying a spell to strike down the escaping carriage.

"Not on my watch!" the captain bellowed, slamming his shield into the ground.

A powerful shockwave erupted, momentarily stunning the attackers, their formation wavering.

But just as he readied himself to press the advantage, a chilling voice entered his ears.

"Oh, I don't think so."

Before the captain could react, a powerful force seized him, and the world spun in a blur.

Suddenly, he found himself in an unfamiliar, dark void, surrounded by shadows and an oppressive, malevolent aura.

He knew immediately he'd been pulled into a domain, a pocket of isolated space meant to hold him away from the battle.

In the dim, shifting light, he caught sight of a tall, shadowy figure standing across from him, cloaked in dark energy.

His eyes narrowed, calculating the power radiating from his opponent.

"So, they sent a peak Astral Bloom to handle me," he muttered, smirking despite the grim circumstances. "Guess whoever sent you knew I wouldn't go quietly."

The shadowed figure took a step forward, the glow of his aura casting eerie shadows across his face.

"Sacrificing yourself to buy them time? How noble," he sneered, his voice filled with contempt. "Do you really think you'll make a difference?"

The captain raised his shield, his stance solid.

"Maybe not to you," he said, unflinching, "but my duty isn't something you'd understand."

A cold laugh echoed in the dark. "Then let me help you fulfill it… right here."

The captain gripped his shield tighter, every muscle ready as he faced the figure before him.

…

Outside, the carriage flew through the thick forest, the guards in crimson robes urging it onward with desperate speed.

They breathed heavily, their faces lined with exhaustion and worry.

The captain's sacrifice had bought them a sliver of time, but it was clear that they were running out of it fast.

Behind them, the dark-robed pursuers pressed on relentlessly, their presence growing closer with every passing moment.

Then, just ahead, a figure emerged from the shadows, standing alone on the path.

Even at a distance, his aura felt like a chill pressing against their hearts.

Cloaked in darkness, a thick miasma curled around him, marking him as someone or something far more dangerous than the others.

"Change course!" one of the guards shouted, his voice tinged with panic.

But there was no way out. The distant figure simply raised an arm, and in an instant, a swirling wall of dark miasma materialized, blocking the path in all directions with twisting miasma that pulsed ominously.

The carriage came to a stop, trapped between the wall of miasma.

In a moment, the advancing pursuers already made their way to them.

"Form the barrier!" commanded one of the guards, his voice steady but tense.

They quickly took their positions, summoning a shimmering shield around the carriage.

A glowing dome of energy pulsed to life, creating a temporary sanctuary. Yet each guard knew that their shield was only a delay, it would not hold for long against the dark energy gathering around them.

Their pursuers closed in, forming a ring around the carriage with grim satisfaction glinting in their eyes.

The lone figure in the distance stepped forward appearing close nearly instantly.

His silhouette was cloaked in shadows so thick it was impossible to make out any details. He seemed more like a moving shadow than a man.

"Incompetent fools," he sneered, his voice sharp with disdain. "You couldn't even capture a small group of guards and a runaway carriage?"

The dark-robed figures flinched, their heads lowered, faces hidden beneath their hoods, their bodies rigid with tension. None dared respond.

"What are you waiting for?" the figure spat, his tone like a whip. "Take down that barrier."

With that command, the dark-robed figures directed their energy toward the barrier.

Their miasma surged forward, hitting the protective dome in powerful waves.

The barrier flickered, resisting the onslaught, but cracks began to splinter across its surface, the glowing shield weakening under the constant barrage.

Inside the dome, the crimson guards gritted their teeth, focusing all their energy on maintaining the shield.

But with every hit, they felt the weight of the attackers' relentless force pushing them closer to collapse.

Their breaths grew shallow, sweat beading on their brows as they pushed their last reserves of strength into keeping the barrier up.

Yet one by one, they felt their bodies faltering, knees shaking under the strain. It was only a matter of seconds before their defenses would collapse.

Just as the shield seemed on the verge of shattering, a strong, clear voice cut through the air.

"Stop this at once."

The sharp voice rang out with an unshakable authority.

The attackers froze, startled, as all heads turned toward the source.

From the edge of the forest, a young figure stepped forward, his purple hair catching the faint light as he moved.

Zarak emerged from the bushes with a calm, firm stare fixed on the dark-robed attackers.

"My master warned me not to interfere in mortal conflicts," he said, his voice carrying through the clearing, steady and confident. "But the sides are clear here. I won't stand by while you prey on the weak."

The miasma-shrouded leader let out a contemptuous chuckle, a smirk curling beneath his dark veil.

"Who is this fool trying to play the hero?" he sneered. With a dismissive wave, he motioned to his men. "Go finish him off."

One of the attackers broke away from the group, melting into the shadows as he advanced on Zarak, his movements quick and lethal.

But Zarak's gaze didn't waver, his eyes locked onto the figure closing in on him.

"So," he murmured to himself, a hint of sharpness in his tone, "you've chosen death."

{[Die]}

With a single command, Zarak's voice resonated through the air, cold and absolute.

In an instant, the battlefield went silent still.

The dark-robed figure lunging toward him stopped abruptly, his entire form stiffening as if life had been drained from him. Around the carriage, the other attackers also froze, their bodies caught mid-movement, their expressions a mix of confusion and fear.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, they collapsed to the ground in unison, lifeless.

The silence that followed was broken only by the soft thuds of bodies hitting the ground.

Only one man remained, the miasma-cloaked leader, who stood in shock, his gaze darting from the fallen bodies to Zarak, a wariness now shadowing his once-dismissive stare.

"Mastery over souls…" he murmured, his voice barely audible. "Are you from the immortal world?"

Zarak frowned, clearly confused. "What's an immortal realm?"

A flicker of something unreadable crossed the leader's face. He seemed to process this with narrowed eyes before speaking. "If that's the case, then where did you learn such a skill?"

Zarak's expression remained impassive, and he crossed his arms.

"My master taught me to keep my secrets from strangers," he replied simply.

The leader of the attackers seemed to acknowledge this answer, though his face remained obscured beneath the swirling miasma.

He looked toward the battered barrier, where the crimson-robed guards watched him with exhausted but vigilant eyes.

"Time's up," he declared, his voice like a judge passing a sentence.

A dark vortex spiraled into existence beside him, a churning maelstrom of miasma opening like a gateway.

Just as he turned to step inside, he paused and glanced back at Zarak.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Zarak," he replied, his voice calm and steady.

A faint, mocking smile played under the leader's dark veil.

"I'll remember that," he said before stepping into the vortex.

The miasma swallowed him whole, and within seconds, the swirling fog dissipated, leaving the clearing still and empty once more.

As the air settled, Zarak let out a long breath, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

His eyes drifted to the carriage and the crimson-robed guards within, slumped and spent, but unharmed.

The dark miasma had vanished entirely, as if it had never been there.

"It did not affect him, " Zarak murmured, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Strange…He must be powerful."

He scanned the clearing, searching for any sign of further danger.

The shadows held no movement, but something stirred on the edge of his awareness, an unfamiliar yet powerful presence approaching in this location.