A man in black formal wear burst into a chamber thick with smoke. The air was heavy with the acrid stench of chemicals, purple vapors curling like serpents around shelves stacked with beakers, vials, and strange instruments. The room hissed and bubbled with experiments in progress, a cacophony of glass clinking and liquids boiling.
At the center, a woman with long, curly purple hair bent over her work, her face half-hidden by the haze. Her hands moved with precision, scribbling notes and adjusting a glowing vial that pulsed faintly like a beating heart.
"Madam Zarnia," the man said, his voice urgent, cutting through the noise. "I just received word about one of your boys."
Zarnia jolted upright, her eyes sharp and gleaming. "Which? Where is he?"
"Jeremiah," the man replied, catching his breath. "He travels with the crimson-eyed wolf. They make their way to Tarth. As for Elliot… he remains elusive."
Zarnia's lips curled in frustration. "That bastard. I told him to stay away from those boys. Where are they now?"
"They approach Old Town. We can order Crow to intercept them," the man suggested, his tone cautious.
Zarnia shook her head, strands of purple hair swaying. "As if Crow could defeat Cranel. No. Tell him to intercept, but not to fight. Deliver a message. Jeremiah must change course and come to the Capital."
"Yes, ma'am," the man said, bowing before retreating into the smoke.
Zarnia exhaled slowly, her gaze drifting to the glowing vial on her desk. Cranel… why must you always trouble me, she thought bitterly, her fingers tightening around the glass until it trembled.
Flashback
Rain poured in torrents, hammering the cobblestone street. Five young men surrounded a girl, their grimoires glowing ominously in the storm. The girl's purple hair clung to her bruised face, drenched and heavy.
"How dare you! A low-born commoner attack a noble!" one boy spat, his voice shrill.
"Yeah! You'll pay a thousandfold!" another screamed, lightning flashing across his sneer.
Their grimoires flared brighter, spells ready to unleash. But before they could strike, a boy with snow-white hair leapt between them. His cassock marked him as a church trainee, his burning red eyes forcing the bullies to falter. He grinned, rain dripping from his chin.
"Come on," he said, voice mocking. "What thrill do you get from beating a defenseless girl? Fight someone on your level."
The girl's eyes narrowed. "I was fine on my own. I don't need help, especially from you."
The boy blinked, incredulous. "What? You were cornered by five people. I'm helping you."
"Of course you have a hero complex. Typical of a church dog. I am Zarnia of the Black Hand. I require no help."
She raised her hand. Raindrops within twenty meters froze midair, suspended like jewels. The boys gasped, their bravado faltering.
This control… insane, the white-haired boy thought.
The droplets spiraled, transforming into razor-sharp water shuriken. With a flick of her wrist, they tore into the boys. Screams echoed as their bodies collapsed, grimoires fading into silence.
"Insects," Zarnia said coldly. "They were never worthy to face me." She turned to leave.
"Stop," the boy blurted. She turned, annoyance etched across her face.
"What do you want?"
"I am Cranel Sicario. Face me in a duel," he said, eyes alight with anticipation.
"Cranel, huh. On guard."
She unleashed a dozen water projectiles. Cranel vanished and reappeared, dodging with blinding speed. He leapt above her, his hand glowing green.
"Wind Magic: Crippling Fangs!" Blades of wind crashed down like the jaws of a beast. Dust exploded, the storm itself seeming to recoil.
When it cleared, Zarnia stood unharmed, encased in a water bubble.
"I require no spells to best you," she said coldly. Raindrops swarmed, forming a twenty-foot blade.
"Bring it!" Cranel braced himself, eyes blazing.
Their battle raged for forty minutes. The storm became their arena, lightning flashing as water and wind clashed violently. At last, Cranel lay bloodied and bruised, his cassock torn, while Zarnia stood with only minor scrapes.
"Do you yield?" she asked calmly, her voice steady despite the chaos.
"I wish not to… but I have no magic left," he admitted, his chest heaving.
"Good. Then never inconvenience me again," she said, turning away.
Cranel staggered to his feet, chuckling through the pain. Her magic is bottomless. Even after half an hour, she still overflows with power. She's… amazing. Zarnia of the Black Hand.
Present Day
Raymond, Jeremiah, and Cranel sat around a fire beneath the clear night sky. Horses were tied nearby, their silhouettes shifting against the hillside. The flames crackled, casting shadows across their faces.
"Father Cranel," Raymond asked, breaking the silence. "How many losses have you faced in your life?"
Cranel smirked, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "Losses? Only three."
"Only three? Who defeated you?" Jeremiah pressed, leaning forward.
"My mentor, Jaqen… and the woman who raised Jeremiah. All before I became strong," Cranel replied, his tone proud.
Jeremiah's eyes widened. "Miss Zarnia defeated you? I never knew she was that powerful."
Cranel chuckled, shaking his head. "She is something else. Same as you — a freak of nature."
Raymond's gaze sharpened. "Do you think you could defeat them now?"
Cranel's smile widened, his voice brimming with confidence. "If you worry about me being defeated, don't. Because I am the strongest individual in the world, boys."
The fire crackled louder, as if echoing his boast. Jeremiah and Raymond exchanged glances, the weight of his words sinking into the night.