The Corrupted Syndicate

The rabbit stood there, momentarily disarmed, his heart racing as he watched the falcon hover with predatory grace, its emerald glow illuminating the shadows around them.

The wires shimmered like strands of magic, intertwining and glistening, a reminder of the creature's formidable power. Matt's instincts kicked in as he prepared for the next move, his eyes narrowing in determination.

"Tch... What an annoying bird..." grumbled the rabbit as he summoned his little purple flame companion.

The little indigo and black fireball hopped out of Matt's open palm and danced happily around its master.

"Let's see how you fare against him. Devour all, my Spark!" yelled the rabbit as the small flame happily nodded before leaping toward the giant falcon.

The bird made a clever choice to release the massive blade. In an unexpected move, it hurled the weapon directly at Matt. With a confident grin, he caught it effortlessly in one hand, gripping the handle and spinning around to regain his balance.

As this unfolded, his little Spark expanded into a towering inferno, just as the enemy dove toward it.

The flames enveloped the bird in an instant, and when the fire subsided, Spark returned to its cheerful, diminutive form, letting out a contented burp before darting back to Matt's side.

"That Viceroy ain't going to be pleased when he finds out that his precious palace has been breached again," complained the rabbit, shaking his head while patting the flame.

Matt murmured a soft command toward the Spark, and it obediently nodded before darting from the room. Unfortunately, the chaos he had caused left his outfit to be tattered, yet again.

With a weary sigh, he flopped onto his bed, pulling the tattered garment into his lap, setting to work on its repairs.

Hours later, with the mending complete, Matt collapsed face-first into his pillow, exhaustion seeping into his bones. Sleep claimed him swiftly.

Elsewhere, the dragoness had fallen asleep in the Viceroy's warm embrace. In her dreams, she found herself in a void of darkness, with nothing in sight. Normally, her dreams reflected past journeys or memories from the orphanage, but this one felt... different.

As she took a cautious step forward, a soft light blossomed beneath her feet, transforming the empty space into a breathtaking meadow, vibrant with life.

The azure sky stretched endlessly, unmarred by clouds, and a towering mountain loomed in the distance.

Though there were no trees at first glance, Mavislin turned to find a massive one behind her, its branches adorned with delicate white cherry blossoms, swaying gently in the wind.

The dragoness gave a casual shrug before strolling toward the tree, uncertain of what awaited her or what she was meant to do. Her steps slowed as she drew closer, her breath catching as she recoiled at the sight before her.

Zenos stood in front of the tree, but something about him was different. He was unarmed, his usual imposing armor absent. Instead, he wore a sleek black tuxedo, his long blonde hair neatly tied back in a single braid.

Was she truly that attached to him? So much so that even in her dreams, Zenos lingered? Mavislin frowned and shook her head, trying to dispel the thoughts. Maybe it was simply because he lay sleeping beside her in the waking world.

That had to be it. Still, she sighed, conflicted, and pressed forward. Yet, instead of walking directly toward him, she veered to the side, as if unsure whether to confront the figure or avoid it altogether. Her eyes widened as she saw what was before the Viceroy.

Before she could scream or protest, the dragoness jolted awake, her breath ragged as beads of sweat trickled down her temple. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest like it might burst.

But before panic could fully consume her, the Viceroy beside her merely sighed, his grip loosening as he released her from his embrace.

Zenos, seemingly undisturbed by her sudden movement, moved with a drowsy calmness. Like a sleepwalker, he shifted, lying back down on the bed with barely a glance, leaving Mavislin to sit upright, her mind still whirling.

She pressed a trembling hand to her chest, trying to slow the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat.

Why? The question echoed in her mind. Why had she dreamed of that—of him, of her own name inscribed on a tombstone? The image haunted her, vivid and unnerving. It wasn't the first time death had appeared in her dreams, but this one struck differently, sinking deeper.

For someone so accustomed to the specter of death, the sight of her own demise still had the power to shake her to the core.

Mavislin squeezed her eyes shut, trying to banish the chilling image from her mind, yet it lingered like a shadow clinging to her consciousness.