A Journey Unwanted

Fear, often perceived as a weakness, holds a powerful position. While it can paralyze and limit, it is through the recognition and understanding of fear that one can truly begin to live. The fear of falling prevents us from recklessly climbing cliffs. The fear of starvation motivates us to seek food. This primal fear is essential for self-preservation and the continuation of everything.

Fear of societal consequences can act as a deterrent against harmful actions. The fear of punishment for wrongdoing helps maintain order and prevents chaos. This fear, when channeled appropriately, can inspire ethical behavior and a sense of responsibility within individuals and communities. The fear of the unknown can be a powerful motivator for innovation and artistic expression. Artists, writers, and scientists often push boundaries driven by a fear of stagnation and a desire to explore the uncharted.

While fear is essential, unchecked fear can be debilitating. Phobias, anxieties, and generalized fear can paralyze individuals, preventing them from living fulfilling lives. It is crucial to recognize when fear is irrational or disproportionate and to develop strategies for managing and overcoming it.

Despite the negativity, fear is a necessary evil, a double-edged sword. By acknowledging its existence, understanding its purpose, and learning to manage its influence, we can harness it for good. Yet fear was not always welcomed.

The epitome of fear, there he stood. Towering above them despite the distance, wearing armor heavily ornate, detailed with patterns and silver accents that resembled carvings or engravings. A dark helmet-like mask obscured his face, with pointed horns protruding atop it. Long, wild vibrant red hair stuck out, voluminous, and fell around his shoulders and back. Along with this, he wore a long, flowing dark cape that appeared to be attached to a full-body suit of armor. The armor on the chest piece featured a large, ornate, reddish-brown piece that hinted at a heart shape. His gauntlets and arm pieces were also elaborately designed. The flowing fabric of the gown draped around his legs, with visible folds and shadowing. The colors were predominantly dark, with deep reds, blacks, and hints of gold.

The towering man had not a speck of mana, yet his presence was undeniable. Still within the vast space of offline Magitech, he was the center of attention.

"Holy," Lyraeth grinned ferally at the man's presence. Her body was already tense for action, and her mana spiked erratically. Though a smile was present on her face, her brows were furrowed with sweat dripping down. "This guy... he's insanely strong!" Instincts, the basis of any living thing. Ingrained into your very being to gauge what was dangerous or life-threatening. Even those lacking experience could make the most of it. As someone who had been through countless battles, Lyraeth could see that this man before her was a death sentence.

Isabella was of much the same mind. She nervously swallowed a lump in her throat, this feeling of angst and fear, it was familiar. Her hand shook uncontrollably, and her breath hitched, this man's presence was dominating and thick. Like that of a great animal pouncing on weak prey. She would not consider herself an accomplished warrior by any means, but she could tell this man was powerful. It was the same feeling whenever she was near individuals such as Mikoto Yukio and Dante.

Most of all, it reminded her of her helplessness against the Ancestor Rhiannon. It was odd; they had not even battled yet, but she already knew just how hopelessly outmatched they were. A presence so passively powerful, Arcane Ascendance seemed meaningless.

The tension grew thicker, Isabella's nerves only grew as she saw how weary Lyraeth was being. Usually, the girl was a battle maniac; she would challenge every other Inheritor barring Maerwynn. Yet now even she was on edge, careful and what might even say fearful of this figure shrouded in darkness.

The tension merely grew as the figure took one step forward, the clanking of the armored pieces of his outfit ringing throughout the vast space. Were it not for his mane of bright red hair, then he would have been one with the thick darkness surrounding them.

The two grew more tense as he drew closer, the air felt suffocating. Their mana shivered in readiness for anything, yet that hardly felt enough.

("Will we survive this? Is there anything we can even do?") The two questions filled Isabella's mind like an infection.

("So strong, damn it, we might actually die here,") Lyraeth thought, an uneasy grin now on her face. Despite her lust for battle, she did not enjoy a slaughter.

As his steps continued, their heartbeats quickened, and they grew ever ready to spring to action. Though it was more so just a desperate move on their part.

Suddenly, he stopped midway, only a good few meters away from the two. With his face obscured, it was hard to gauge what he was looking at or what expression he wore. Honestly, that was something that irked Isabella; it was odd that those powerful chose to hide their face for some odd reason. Mikoto, Dante, and now this man, was there some kind of ritual to cover your face or something that she did not know of?

"Very odd..." Both jumped in place as the man suddenly spoke, his voice, muffled, was smooth and oddly soothing yet deep. It effortlessly carried through the vast space. "An accumulation of pure un-syphoned mana." His head dropped low as he seemingly gazed at the floor.

Lyraeth and Isabella exchanged confused glances; the man seemed entranced with whatever he was 'looking' at. In an odd way, he seemed aloof, not even paying their existence mind. Yet even so, his suffocating presence remained.

("The mana he's talking about... could it be the captives?") Isabella thought; she sensed mana from below as well. The mana from an individual was far more 'pure' in essence than mana syphoned.

Though as if sensing her thoughts, the man's gaze snapped towards her; she had to suppress a yelp at the suddenness. He stared, idly, the only thing apparent being his breathing judging by his chest motions.

"Tell me, what was your purpose in coming here?" He questioned, almost casually.

Isabella was not sure how to respond. Would a lie suffice? Was a lie necessary? What could they even say in such a situation? It felt as though any possible answer would lead to demise. Lyraeth was not of the same mind apparently.

She took a bold step forward, puffed out her chest, and pointed an accusing finger at the armored figure of the man. "Hah! You know exactly why, you... you red-haired Vel'ryrian ass!" Despite holding the same reservations as Isabella, the spawn of the sun Goddess spoke those words with vigor.

For a moment, Isabella could not help but deadpan at her fellow Inheritor's insult; ("Don't you have red hair as well?") she internally questioned.

"I do not know why. It is why I asked the question," The red-haired man spoke up once more, his tone suggesting he was stating the most obvious thing ever. She could all but feel the man's dull stare burning into Lyraeth. Isabella weighed their options; despite his intensity, he did not seem hostile.

He wore Vel'ryr colors, so he was most definitely another Vel'ryr soldier. Though his armor did not seem as advanced as the usual Vel'ryr trooper. Isabella took a deep breath and steeled her nerves; if they fought, it would result in utter defeat for the two of them. Violence needed to be avoided.

"We... uhm... we're here to save the captives!" Isabella exclaimed a tad too loudly for her liking. She shut her mouth quickly, frightful that her loud words may have irked the man.

He merely tilted his head, "Captives?" He waited, clearly expecting her to continue, but Lyraeth beat her to the punch.

"You Vel'ryrians have been kidnapping people all over," Lyraeth stated with a pointed glare. "And your mad scientists have been experimenting on them!" She declared.

The man rubbed the chin of his mask in thought, "I see. It would explain the pure mana I sense."

"You're talking as if you had no knowledge of this," Isabella noted with narrowed eyes.

"I was oblivious, you could say," He admitted, though there was barely any emotion in his tone. It was hard to gauge whether he was telling the truth or not. But for one so powerful, was there really any reason to make up a lie? The man shook his head, as if disappointed in something, "Hm, this nation truly has regressed," he muttered.

"Wait, who even are you? And why are you here?" Despite her better judgment, curiosity was, of course, at the forefront of Lyraeth's mind. She must have gauged that the man had no reason to lie. It was no use keeping up appearances when he could have just killed them easily.

"Grimm," He introduced, "A simple General who was tasked to take care of apparent 'invaders'. Though now I see that is not the case, if you were invaders with counterintuitive agendas you would have not spared any soldiers. Your words of wanting to save the captives hold true. Though your performance in doing so is rather lackluster. Reckless and brutish as well, a better plan would have been to scout out the intended area before any hasty moves." He bluntly spoke.

A sheepish look fell on their faces as they heard his words. It was as if he were critiquing them; Isabella, for one, did not know how to feel about that.

"Bulldozing through is always the best plan!" Not doing them any favors, Lyraeth voiced her thoughts enthusiastically. Isabella resisted the urge to gaze at the girl as if she were an idiot (she was, in fact, an idiot).

Grimm held no such reservations, though he was just vocal. "This one appears to lack precious brain cells," He deduced, a noticeable vein throbbed on Lyraeth's head at the comment.

"Hey! I have brain cells!" She defended with a not so threatening glare.

"I doubt it, but it doesn't matter. Come," He gestured for them to follow. Isabella furrowed her brows in confusion. "You want to rescue these captives, no? So I suggest you stop dilly-dallying and get to your objective. I want to see for myself if this nation really has fallen so low," his muffled voice stated.

"I... I see." She was not expecting to end up in this kind of situation, she would admit. Not that she thought the whole endeavor would be simple, far from it. But when such a powerful individual showed up, clearly allied with the opposition, the last thing she expected was for him to be a really lax individual. A tad too blunt, however.