Above a vast sea that stretched far beyond the horizon, the breeze moved with an eerie calm.
The waters were still, without tides, no waves, no crashing surf. Just a clam, unnatural flow that stood in stark contrast to the chaos engulfing the rest of Ares.
And upon this sea, a congregation of Ares’ most powerful beings had gathered.
The strongests from every race stood in a loose circle, eyes fixed on the anomaly hovering before them.
A massive rift, like a cloth torn open in the center, hung in the air. At its core swirled a black mass, twisting endlessly, giving off steady pulses of dynamis. With each pulse, the wind and sea shifted slightly, pushing and pulling away and towards.
The Saints wore frowns as they stared at it. Once in a while, cold glances were exchanged between them, but no one stepped forward, nor made any move.
Despite the tension, their auras remained calm... almost too calm. It was unknown whether their stillness was born out of composure or restraint. Each one guarded and calculating.
The rift was dangerous. That much they all understood.
They had probed it carefully with their Wills and aura, but the results were... unsettling.
Its surface gave off the weak, harmless aura... something a mere First Ascension ascendant could challenge, the best of them even scoffing at how weak it was. And yet, when their Wills tried to penetrate it, it was as if the rift vanished. Their senses passed over it like it wasn’t there at all.
That sensation was what truly unsettled them. Something that seemed so weak... yet defied their comprehension?
It was too quiet. Too calm. And that was far more dangerous than something loud and wild.
"No one stepping forward to test the waters?" A small, grey-skinned man-creature asked softly, with a cold smile on his face. His scrawny frame and hunched posture made him look harmless, but everyone present knew better.
The tension thickened slightly at his question, but no one responded. They didn’t even bother looking his way.
The gnome seeing he was ignored, chuckled to himself and said no more. Inwardly, though, he scoffed at their cowardice, conveniently forgetting, of course, that he too didn’t dare take a step toward the rift.
For all their confidence, every Saint present was far more wary of each other than of the anomaly itself.
Each one knew or believed, that they could challenge whatever lay beyond that portal. And even if they couldn’t win, something which was very unlikely, they were Saints... Escape was always possible.
However, if one of them stepped forward... would the others really stand back and let them go unchallenged?
More likely, the moment someone made a move, the others would strike, bombarding them with the intent to kill. If the one advancing didn’t die before reaching the portal, they’d be fortunate to arrive half-alive.
Reaching the portal severely injured, was also a no no. If they entered injured, only to find that whatever lay inside was too much for them to challenge, then death awaited.
If the person was lucky again, and somehow crawl back out alive, obviously broken and defeated...
Their prestige, their name, their authority; it would all become a joke. An object of mockery among peers who valued power and pride above all. So no one moved.
There was no doubt that some among them were willing to sit back and let others test the waters first. If someone succeeded, they could simply attack and rob the opportunity off their corpse.
However, the majority believed that was naïve thinking. They wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who tried to make a move—without even a fraction of a second’s consideration.
After all, there could be an opportunity of a lifetime hidden in there, one that could elevate whoever seized it above all others.
At that point, let alone just personal gain, or something that would benefit their race and set them far above others, but perhaps the entirety of Ares might be theirs for the taking.
No one wanted to risk that outcome, hence the impasse that had already lasted several minutes.
"Why don’t we all just rush for the portal? Whoever gets there first enters. It might even be able to accommodate more than one person—and the rewards inside could be meant for more than just one."
"But if it’s only for one, then fight it out. Winner keeps all. Easy, right?"
A calm voice sliced through the tension, making the Saints frown even harder.
They turned their heads toward the speaker—a man with a head full of scattered crimson hair, an unkempt beard of the same color, and an immaculate white garment that seemed out of place.
Despite floating in the air like the rest of them, he was hunched over, using the staff in his hands like an old man’s walking stick, as though leaning on it for Find your next favorite novel on NovelHub today! Out of boredom, perhaps?
His posture suggested his spine couldn’t Find your next favorite novel on NovelHub today! And besides, what Saint couldn’t even hold themselves upright?
Looking at his expression that seemed amused as though playing with them, the air grew cold.
Azarel grinned even wider when he saw their expressions as they listened to his question, while sizing him up.
Unlike the gnome, who had been totally ignored, he had their full attention. All eyes were on him, each gaze painted with varying emotions, ranging from disdain, contempt, surprise, down to curiosity.
There was a reason the other races didn’t like the Crimson family. In fact, it was safe to say they were feared. Normally, in a situation , no human would dare speak, much less suggest a strategy. They would simply fall in line and go with whatever the stronger races decided.
Stronger races always looked down on the weaker ones, and humans were, without question, the weakest race on Ares. But the Crimsons seemed to be a different breed of humans or people altogether.
Fearless, arrogant, and worst of all, they had the power to back it up.
With every race staring at their position , the air on the side of humans, became chilling.