The streets were shattered and broken, what little remained of them being overrun by carriages and people that sought to flee and escape the sector.
Rain fell from the heavens with an indifferent and suffocating might, the storms that swept through the skies relentless and violent, tearing everything apart with no restraint.
People died, legacies were destroyed, and chaos reigned without mercy.
Amidst the chaos of it all, a man watched, walking through the streets, unnoticed by all and untouched by the destruction that consumed everything around him.
He looked simple—black hair, bronze pupils, and an average build for a man in his early twenties. Though that was the case, there was a sort of suave tinge to his features that made him particularly eye-catching.
From the sharpness of his jaw, the charm of his perpetually hanging smile, and the neatness of his hair, he seemed well put together.
Yet amidst it all, what stood out the most was the insignia on the back of his robes: five overlapping circles containing an eye.
The Grand Order Council.
'Oh my, somebody is gonna get skinned alive,' he thought with a chuckle as he slowly made his way to the coliseum.
To see such chaos in the capital was a level of madness he'd rarely, if ever, seen. Even the enemies of the empire didn't dare to do such a thing. Even the rebellion didn't dare.
And to think this was all caused by a little boy. This left him more than intrigued.
Myelle tapped his shoulder and connected to the communication channel. "I do, I'm on my way as we speak. Is there anything to report?"
The voice that echoed in his ears seemed particularly solemn, as if it knew more than it let on. To this, he didn't react much.
"Alright, I'll see you in a minute." Tapping his chest, he disconnected from the communication channel.
At the same time, he reached the gates of the coliseum, pushing them open and directly entering the battlefield.
Though surprisingly, what met him wasn't battle, but rather its aftermath. All he could see were piles of bodies atop piles of bodies.
Yet what was most shocking was the fact that not only were these people all soldiers of the Grand Order Council, none of them had been killed—merely knocked out.
Though they were all gravely injured, the feat remained impressive. Killing someone was much easier than subduing them.
Myelle took a step forward, entering the field of ice and bodies, but the moment he did so, his gaze widened yet again as he felt his cultivation be sealed and the exit behind him be barred.
He looked up and toward a mountainous pile of bodies.
Atop it, a young boy could be seen, sitting cross-legged, his jaw resting on a closed fist of his as he looked down, a smile hanging at the corner of his lips.
Myelle and Samael's gazes met and rather than rage and indignation, or even annoyance, the two both reflected the same emotion—interest, curiosity, even.
"It took them a while to dispatch you," Samael shook his head. "That's not very professional. I could've killed all your little friends in the meantime, you know."
"I expected an elite of hundreds to immediately be sent out the moment I even touched that elder—or maybe even a missile to come falling down."
Myelle crossed his arms. "The situation isn't as simple as it seems. We're on the grounds of the Tharim Lineage. You think our core forces can simply storm in like that?"
"Unless we wanted these old monsters to kill us, there'd be no point in doing so. Even sending me is a risk in itself."
He began to caress his chin. "But now that you mention it, it is quite strange that the Royal Guard hasn't already intervened."
"It's almost as if they do not care. It is even stranger that those of the Void Trading Lineage haven't stormed in yet. They're quite protective of their people."
Myelle shrugged. "Odds that you're a rich noble kid throwing a tantrum are quite high, now that I think about it."
"Who are you?" he then asked, as if the two weren't enemies at the moment—and perhaps, they weren't.
"Hovier something something," Samael said with a frown.
"You… do not know your name?" Myelle asked with a chuckle.
"I forgot the fake name he chose for me, but it was something along those lines. Just assume I'm named whatever is closest to that."
Myelle laughed. With a snap of his finger, he summoned a cushion he placed on the ice below. Then, he sat down.
"Well, what do we do now?" he asked with a smile. "You clearly have a plan, and part of it requires you to be arrested by me, yes?"
"Go on with your little plan, then we'll go."
Samael shook his head. He'd just met this man and yet, he already found himself liking him more and more. He was quite similar to Aegon.
But indeed, his plan required him to be arrested by the Grand Order Council.
But before that…
Samael raised a hand, his palm facing the skies. The runes of the formation that engulfed the coliseum began to madly glow, further multiplying and layering in a tapestry of such complexity Myelle couldn't help but truly frown for a moment.
Samael spread his arms wide and laughed. "Honey, it's me again."
The skies—no, the heavens—roared. Dark clouds gathered over the capital and for the second time in the last ten days, a wave of fear gripped the hearts of every living being within it.
Arcs of emerald and crimson lightning menacingly swam through the skies along rivers of white and black fire, the two dancing to a deadly tune.
A tribulation was forming.
Myelle looked up, his mouth left agape in shock. Just what kind of tribulation evoked flames and lightning of such a level?
And… had he just summoned a tribulation on command?