THE ENVOY OF DUSK

The morning after Asimil's decision in the square was tense. He left his room, hoping, perhaps foolishly, that things had returned to normal. He met Noelia in the hallway. Their gazes met for an instant. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but she looked away, her face a mask of cold disappointment, and walked on without addressing him. The rejection was silent, but as painful as a slap.

With his heart shrinking and feeling lonelier than ever, Asimil needed to escape. He decided to go alone into the nearby woods to hunt some creatures, to do something, anything, to prove to himself that he was not useless. But his mind was elsewhere. Distracted by the memory of Noelia's gaze, he didn't see the pressure rune half hidden under the undergrowth. He stepped on it.

The ground shook and from the earth emerged a Stone Guardian, a mini-boss with glowing ruby eyes that set him as their target. Asimil fought, but his heart was not in the battle. The golem swept him away with a blow from its granite fist, sending him flying through the air. He crashed into a tree, his life bar plummeting. The creature approached, raising its fist for the coup de grace.

— Wow, wow. What a pathetic spectacle. — A sapphire blue flash cut through the air. A figure landed softly between Asimil and the golem. It was a young man with a mane of vibrant blue hair and a black patch covering his left eye. His right eye, an icy gray, glittered with amusement. With insulting ease, his broadsword deflected the golem's punch and, in a single, fluid counterattack, cleaved the stone creature in two.

It was Mitsu. He turned, not to help Asimil, but to look at him with disdain. — So this is one of the famous "Pit Survivors". I don't know what's more disappointing, your level or your inattention. —

Just then, Ikel and Noelia, alerted by the noise of the battle, burst into the clearing.  — Asimil, are you all right? — shouted Ikel.

Mitsu saw them, a smirk playing on his lips. — It looks like the nannies have arrived. — And with that, he dissolved in a flurry of blue pixels, disappearing without a trace.

Back at Sacres' workshop, the mood was somber. Asimil and the others recounted the encounter.  — ...and then he disappeared. I couldn't even read his user name — Asimil concluded.

As they spoke, Sacres and Luce, who had arrived at the clan earlier that morning, were leaning over the Dagger of the Broken Echo. — It's fascinating —Luce murmured, her blue eyes fixed on the weapon's runes. — The energy it emits is not stable. It's as if it's reacting to... something. —

Just as she said it, the letters on the dagger began to glow with a soft emerald light, a rhythmic pulse that synchronized for an instant with Asimil's heartbeat.

Before they could analyze it further, a clan officer rushed in.  — Team, to the throne room! Now! A high-level envoy from the Servant of Doom has arrived. He has requested a specific audience with the "Survivors of the Pit"! —

They looked at each other and ran. In the great throne room, in front of the clan leaders, stood he. Mitsu. He was no longer a stranger in the forest; he was an official representative, his armor gleaming in the light, radiating an air of authority. His gaze swept the team, pausing with an irritating familiarity on Noelia, then settling on Asimil with a barely disguised insult.

— So this is the team that survived the Messenger — he said, his voice echoing in the room. — A wasted Elemental Queen, a lucky brute, a wandering healer, a street fighter... and you. —he pointed at Asimil. — The anchor that sinks them. —

— Why have you come? — asked Sacres, his tone a warning.

— To assess whether they are worthy of the coming war — Mitsu replied. — Rumors of their exploit have reached my servant. We need allies, not ballast. And, frankly, I'm not impressed. — His gray eye fixed on Asimil. — Let's start with the weakest link. An evaluation game. You against me. —

The combat was a humiliation. Mitsu did not even draw his sword. He dodged each of Asimil's clumsy attacks with a smirk, knocking him down again and again with non-lethal but degrading palm strikes. After the fifth knockdown, he stopped the charade.

— Enough. You don't measure up. They are a risk. —

— Fight me then, you smug bastard! — Ikel roared.

— And with me! — added Luce.

Mitsu smiled, a wide, dangerous smile. — I like their spirit. Let's change the dynamic. Me alone... against all of you. Asimil, Ikel, Noelia, Luce and Lyra. If you manage to leave a single mark on my armor, I'll consider you worth something. —

The battle was chaotic. They attacked from every angle, but Mitsu was a ghost. He anticipated every move. Ikel's fire punched the air, Noelia's ice thorns smashed into afterimages, Luce's blows were dodged at the last millisecond. Lyra struggled to keep everyone healed and empowered.

Asimil, relegated to the rear by Lyra, watched the scene, a sense of icy helplessness taking hold of him.

He looked around him. Ikel, a force of nature, was panting, his flames losing intensity. Noelia, an elemental queen, was frowning in frustration, her spells useless. Luce, speed incarnate, unable to connect a solid blow. And he... he was nothing. A bystander. The anchor that Mitsu mocked.

It was always the same. Always depending on Sacres to guide him, Noelia to save him, Ikel to defend him, Lyra to heal him. Always needing others to tell him what to do, to fight his battles.

"I'm weak," the voice in his head was a mixture of his father's and his own, "You'll never be enough on your own."

Despair threatened to drown him. But then, the despair turned into something else. Rage. A silent, cold rage, not against Mitsu, but against himself. Against the boy who was freezing, against the ghost who was hiding.

If I can't win with force... then I won't use force.

He stopped thinking like a fighter. He started thinking like a piece on a board. And he saw Mitsu's arrogance not as a strength, but as a weakness.

— STOP! — he shouted, his voice ringing with an authority that surprised everyone, including himself. His friends stopped, confused. 

— Noelia, don't attack him! Limit his movement! I want a wall of ice behind him, now! Ikel, Luce! Do not attack at the same time! Press him from opposite flanks, force him to move to the center! Lyra, keep your mana! On my signal! —

Confused but desperate, they obeyed him. Noelia erected a wall of translucent ice, cutting off Mitsu's escape route. Ikel and Luce charged, not to hurt, but to harass, forcing him to retreat, to move right where Asimil wanted him to.

— Leading from the rear, rookie? — Mitsu scoffed, effortlessly parrying their attacks. — How predictable... —

— Lyra, NOW! — Asimil shouted.

Lyra unleashed an area enhancer. They all felt the surge of power. Ikel and Luce intensified their assault, forcing Mitsu to plant his feet and raise his sword in a two-handed block. He was immobilized. For a second.

That second was an eternity.

A fierce heat was born in his chest, fueled by humiliation, by rage, by the desperate desire to prove he was more than a shadow. The green fire that had always been a faint spark in his hands, this time it did not burst forth. It exploded.

A violent aura of emerald energy covered his entire body, crackling with a power he had never felt before. His rookie armor creaked under the pressure. He didn't run toward him. He lunged, turned into a comet of green fire.

Mitsu, surprised by the sudden burst of power, reinforced his guard, waiting for the impact of Asimil's dagger. But he did not attack. He simply slammed into his block with the full weight of his body and his will.

He did not break his defense. He did not send him flying. But the pure, wild energy of his flames, at their peak, was enough. A high-pitched screech, like red-hot metal being scratched, echoed through the room.

The fiery aura faded, leaving him on his knees, panting, completely empty. A tense silence fell.

Mitsu slowly lowered his sword. He looked at his spotless plate breastplate. There, right in the center, was a scratch. A thin, smoldering groove, etched into the metal by the intensity of Asimil's flames.

He looked up, his arrogant smile completely obliterated. His one gray eye looked at Asimil, not with disdain, but with genuine awe.  — Hmm. Not bad, rookie.— He said, his voice a murmur of pure surprise. — You've got a decent brain in that head... and it looks like you've got some hidden fire as well. Interesting. Very interesting. —

He stopped the fight. He came over and held out a hand to help him up.   — Maybe they're not a complete waste of time after all. —

At that moment, the tension was broken. Ikel let out a roar of pure joy and lifted him onto his shoulders!   — HAHAHA! YOU SCRATCHED THE PRETTY GUY'S CLOTHES! THAT'S MY BROTHER! —

Luce laughed, Lyra had a rare little smile on her face, and Sacres nodded with a look of deep pride.

Everyone celebrated with joy. And he, on his friend's shoulders, exhausted and sore, felt for the first time not as a fraud, but as the center of a team. His place was no longer in doubt. He had earned it.