There was something about a woman driving that excited me—or maybe it was simply because the woman in question happened to be drop-dead gorgeous and the literal equivalent of a vampire princess. She maneuvered the vehicle with effortless grace through the bustling, car-filled streets of the city. We were heading somewhere special, if I were to believe what Chloe had told me. With only two days remaining before our impending assault on the enemy headquarters, she believed she needed to gear up.
After a few minutes of driving, we pulled up and parked in front of a luxurious 5-star hotel. Confused, I turned to her.
"A hotel? Not that I have anything against them, but if you wanted to have your way with me, your bedroom's queen-size bed should be more than enough."
She rolled her eyes playfully with a soft laugh. "The person supplying us with weapons doesn't like moving out from his home; he's something of a recluse. Thankfully, we of the Crimson Clan are among his most VIP clients, so he agreed to 'come' here. He is currently 'residing' in this hotel."
"That still doesn't tell me who we're meeting. Is he a vampire, a Lycan, a magician, or something else?" Since entering the supernatural world, I had already witnessed plenty of monsters previously thought to exist only in nightmares, and I was thoroughly curious and eager to meet more.
"Be patient, you'll see," she smiled at my rapid-fire questions. We stepped out of the car, and she handed her keys to the valet. We walked into the spacious lobby and were greeted warmly by the receptionist.
"Hello, I am Chloe Crimson. We're here to meet Mr. Razach," she informed him.
"Hello, Miss Crimson. Let me check," he said, tapping deftly on his keyboard before making a quick call. "Hello, Mr. Razach, there's a party asking for you at the reception."
With our heightened, inhuman senses, Chloe and I could easily hear the other side of the conversation.
"They can come up." The voice on the phone possessed a distinct, ageless quality.
"Mr. Razach confirmed it. You can take the elevator directly to the top floor," the receptionist said, handing us a magnetic card and pointing toward the elevators.
"Thank you." Chloe took the keycard, and we headed straight upward.
Soon enough, we stood before a luxurious suite door. We knocked, and a voice from within told us to enter. Stepping across the threshold, we were greeted by an astonishing sight: a vast, sunlit clearing in the middle of a dense forest. The heady, earthy scents of nature filled our lungs, and the distant chirping of birds echoed through the trees.
"Whoa! I definitely didn't see this coming," I exclaimed in sheer wonder.
"Yeah... when I said he agreed to 'come,' he didn't exactly travel here physically. He just opened a spatial gate directly from his domain to the top floor of this hotel."
"How?" I asked, completely dumbfounded. While I wasn't deeply versed in the esoteric abilities of various supernaturals, I knew it took some serious, world-class mojo to pull off a stunt like that.
"Well, let's just say it has everything to do with his unique profession. Come on, we have a bit of forest to trek through," she smiled, leading the way.
After walking about a kilometer, we came across a rustic wooden cabin. "He lives out here?" I asked skeptically.
"What? Did you expect an imposing gothic castle or something?" she teased.
"Kind of."
"Let's go inside; you'll see."
Pushing open the front door, we stepped into an expansive interior that looked less like a cabin and more like the grand foyer of a massive manor—its proportions defied the external dimensions of the building entirely.
"Mr. Razach, we've arrived!" Chloe called out.
"You can come directly down to my workshop, Miss Crimson. You know you're always welcome in my home," answered the same ageless voice I was rapidly associating with the mysterious Mr. Razach.
Chloe led us down a flight of stairs toward what appeared to be a subterranean basement. We traversed a long, polished corridor and reached a reinforced door. Inside, the ambient temperature was intensely high, making it feel as though we had just stepped straight into a roaring inferno. In the center of the room stood a heavily built man with a naked torso, wielding a massive hammer and striking a glowing anvil with relentless rhythm. Sparks flew in every direction. He sported long, fiery red hair that reached the middle of his back, bound neatly by a leather cord. He looked like an ancient smith who had casually stepped right out of a forgotten epoch.
Noticing our arrival, he laid his heavy hammer gently on the ground. "Miss Chloe, it's been far too long since you graced this old man with your presence."
He walked toward us after quenching the newly forged saber in a barrel of water. His gait was imposing—he easily stood over two meters tall, making anyone near him feel like a dwarf by comparison.
"How are you doing, Mr. Razach?" Chloe asked politely.
"Same old, same old," he replied with a genial smile. His face was surprisingly young and handsome, contrasting sharply with his self-referential words. He looked to be barely out of his teenage years, though I had long since learned not to judge supernatural beings by mere appearances—after all, Chloe's father and Atticus were prime examples of that rule.
He finally noticed me, pinning me with a sharp, focused stare. His expression was a curious mix of genuine surprise and subtle puzzlement.
"And who might this gentleman be?"
"He is my companion. His name is Samsara Yu."
"A peculiar name. You must be descended from the Aso Continent."
"Yes, my father emigrated from Aso, though I've never been there myself."
"Not to be rude, but I can't quite place your lineage. You look entirely human, yet the underlying aura you project is deeply inhumane and utterly intriguing. Fitting for Miss Chloe's companion, I suppose."
"Well, don't worry about it too much; as for my true nature, even I am somewhat in the dark. Let's just assume I'm something entirely unprecedented."
"Hmm, fascinating. It's been quite a while since I've encountered something—or someone—I couldn't instantly read through."
"To return the question, what are you, exactly?" I asked, intrigued.
"Did Miss Chloe not tell you?" he asked, glancing sideways at her.
"I didn't," Chloe chimed in with a light smile. "I thought it would make a fun surprise. Samsara only entered our supernatural world a few months ago, so he's still deeply fascinated by encountering new kinds of beings."
"Ah, I see. Would you care to hazard a guess, young man?" Razach prompted, looking back at me with amusement.
"My baseline senses tell me you're human, but there's an immense, profound reservoir of power residing deep within you. I also sense that you're ancient—incomprehensibly so—yet you wear the face of a youth. If I had to guess purely based on traditional archetypes, I'd say you were a master mage, but something about it still feels off."
"Well, your senses are astonishingly sharp, Mr. Samsara. You're right—I am indeed human, or at least I once was. The truth is, three thousand years ago, I was a druid. I practiced ancient druidic magic and lived a peaceful, quiet life in my village until an unimaginable tragedy struck and permanently altered the course of my existence. That very day, I willingly sacrificed a deeply personal part of myself to attain true immortality and boundless power. As for the specifics of what and why... well, we aren't quite well-acquainted enough for me to share those ghosts just yet. Suffice it to say, I am now an immortal druidic warrior, and there are very few of our kind left in this world." His expression turned melancholic, as though he were gazing across an unbridgeable chasm of time.
I didn't even know druids were real, and here I am meeting an immortal one. Truly fascinating. I can only wonder what kind of sacrifice one has to make to undergo a transformation like that, I mused inwardly.
"Mr. Razach, is my custom order ready?" Chloe asked, seamlessly steering the conversation back to the primary objective of our visit.
Shaking his head as though physical motion could cast off the heavy burden of his memories, he broke into an easy smile once more. "Of course. Come, follow me."
We walked for several minutes, navigating numerous winding corridors and turns that gave me a newfound appreciation for the staggering architectural scale of this subterranean Fae pocket dimension. Who would have guessed that a modest wooden cabin nestled in the middle of a forest could conceal such a vast, sprawling complex? Along the way, I took time to admire the interior decorations. I was beginning to notice a clear behavioral pattern among these long-lived immortal races: they shared an undeniable penchant for collecting priceless antiques, presumably as tangible touchstones to anchor their memories of bygone eras. If one attempted to calculate the historical or sheer monetary value of the art pieces and artifacts lining the halls, the valuation alone would likely cause a sane man to lose his mind. This place was effectively a world-class museum.
We finally stopped before a heavy door intricately carved with depictions of ancient wars and apocalyptic battles. Just looking at the craftsmanship evoked a suffocating, visceral killing intent. Mr. Razach placed both palms flat against the wood and pushed it open.
Inside, endless rows upon rows of pristine weaponry stretched out into the distance. The sheer magnitude of the armory was breathtaking. The instruments of war spanned every conceivable category—from heavy battle spears and masterwork longswords to throwing hatchets, curved sabers, delicate daggers, and composite bows.
Weaving through the immaculate rows of arms, he led us directly in front of a massive, reinforced wooden display case. He flicked a hidden mechanism, causing a heavy glass sliding panel to retract smoothly from the side. Protected behind a transparent shield lay an enormous scythe, bearing an imprinted mystical sigil. The blade of the weapon was an impressive two meters in length, gleaming with a deep, blood-red sheen that looked dangerously, razor-sharply lethal.
"This is honestly one of my proudest, most accomplished works," Razach stated, a look of genuine craftsmanship lighting up his features. "It was exceptionally challenging to forge while strictly adhering to your exact specifications, Miss Chloe, but I managed to complete it right on schedule."
"Wow!" I breathed out softly. It was genuinely an awe-inspiring piece of equipment—deadly, ruthless, and somehow violently fitting for someone of Chloe's stature.
"Mr. Razach, this is a true masterpiece of art, and it's very much to my liking," Chloe said, her face breaking into a full-blown, radiant smile that radiated a dark, deliciously dangerous aura.