The Blue Hair Mage

As Olorun stood there still, the Ascendants’ blasters were locked and loaded, their fingers hovering over the triggers, the hum of energy filling the air. One of the Ascendants pulled out a sleek, black, robotic cellphone and said,“Miss Hayami, we’ve found a participant of the Strongest Man Game.”
The voice on the other end spoke through faint static, though Olorun couldn’t make out the words. The Ascendant nodded, then continued,“He seems to be Olorun, from the Bunny Squad group. Also—he is part Scorpion.”
Olorun lifted his head slightly, his tone calm but sharp. “Not anymore.”
Another Ascendant immediately barked, “SHUT YOUR MOUTH, SCUM!” and aimed his blaster higher.
Olorun clenched his jaw, eyes darting between the six weapons pointed at him. Damn it, he thought. I wanna attack, but what if their blasters are faster than me? I don’t really wanna test that out…
The seconds crawled by. Sweat rolled down his temple. Every instinct screamed at him to move, but his body stayed frozen in calculation.
Then, a voice came through the phone—sweet, soft, but carrying something cold and dangerous underneath.“Well, well, look what we got here. A Scorpion member.”
The Ascendants immediately straightened their stances. Olorun turned his head slightly, uneasy. He couldn’t see her yet, but that voice—it carried weight, like honey laced with poison.
Slowly, she appeared behind them.
She had long blue hair streaked with lighter shades, glowing faintly under the desert sun, and bright, almost glassy blue eyes. Her expression was calm, but her tone and posture screamed control—danger in a quiet form.
She wore a black witch hat decorated with tiny gold stars and matching star-shaped earrings that shimmered when she moved. Her outfit was a mix of black and white—like a witch’s robe—with a ruffled white collar, layered sleeves, and a soft golden trim that caught the light with each step. The robe was open slightly at the side, showing black shorts and long boots.
The girl held a large staff in her hand, taller than she was, glowing with faint, shifting constellations. She looked about sixteen—around Olorun, Chiyo, and Kenji’s age—but her presence felt far older.
She stopped a few meters away, her staff planted firmly in the sand.“Don’t worry,” she said, her voice calm but sharp. “You can fully turn to me. But if you try something… that would be very bad for you.”
Olorun’s body tensed—he didn’t know why. She didn’t look strong or intimidating, yet something about her made every muscle scream run. Still, he tried to play it off, forcing a shaky grin.“Is that a threat?” he asked.
Hayami’s expression softened slightly, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Yes,” she said lightly. “It’s a threat. Now—are you going to be a pussy cat and act disrespectful by not facing me, or are you going to look at me like a true Scorpion?”
The Ascendant holding the phone swallowed nervously. “Miss Hayami, are you sure about this?”
Hayami didn’t even look at him. “Oh, I’m very sure, Harrison.”
Olorun slowly turned his body toward them, careful and measured. The six blasters remained locked on him, ready to vaporize him if he twitched.
Hayami tilted her head, studying him. “So, Olorun, right? I hear you’re part of the Scorpion—those who worship the god of assassins, who happens to be a Scorpion himself.”
She smirked faintly, lowering her staff until it hovered inches from the ground. “Tell me—what did they teach you while you were with them?”
Olorun took a slow breath, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest. The wind brushed against his hair, sand swirling around his boots.
“You really wanna know?” he said, his voice calm but tight.
Hayami said nothing, just waited with that same haunting calm.
Olorun exhaled through his nose and gave a small, crooked grin. “They taught me… not to trust people who smile while planning your death.”
Hayami’s smirk deepened, her eyes glowing faintly with blue light. “Good,” she said softly. “Then maybe you’ll survive longer than the rest.”
Olorun blinked, confused for a moment. “What the hell does that mean?”
Hayami just smiled again, this time almost kindly—but it didn’t reach her eyes. “You’ll see soon enough, ex-Scorpion.”
The wind picked up harder, whistling between them. The Ascendants adjusted their stances, one whispering, “Orders, ma’am?”
Hayami raised a hand gently. “Hold.”
Her eyes never left Olorun.
“Let’s see if the Bunny Squad lives up to its reputation,” she murmured.
The moment stretched, silent and electric—one heartbeat away from violence.

Olorun squinted, jaw tight. “Are you really going to kill me with people around and without a fair trial?”

Hayami’s calm voice was barely louder than the desert wind. “Well, Olorun—look around you.”

He twisted, trying to pick out faces in the market crowd. At first there were flickers of movement, stalls, colors—but as he blinked the images thinned. The chatter that had filled the canyon a moment ago seemed to drain away, leaving an eerie hush. He took another breath, and the truth hit him like a slap: the market was empty. Not a single soul wandered the aisles; the lanterns swung gently above nothing. Even the stray children and vendors had vanished.