The Tale of The Fallen Primordial

Kaizen arrived flanked by Noir's Obsidian Vanguard, an elite force of thirty warriors renowned as the "Fangs of the Abyss." Their presence alone sent a ripple of unease through the air, as if the very shadows bowed before their might. These warriors were Noir's most trusted combatants, handpicked from among the awakened Dragonoids, their loyalty and lethality unmatched.

Kaizen Takayoshi, known as "The Azure Fang", led them with an aura of quiet dominance, his light blue hair flowing like silk, the faint edges of his vast wings shimmering with an ethereal blue glow. His presence was predatory, precise—every movement calculated, every breath carrying authority. His armor gleamed with purpose: dark steel infused with faint streaks of silver and cobalt, blending Dragonoid tradition with modern practicality. But his most striking feature was his claws—razor-sharp extensions of his body, five inches in length and curved like talons, shimmering faintly in the wan light. They were not a tool, but a symbol of his ferocity.

The Obsidian Vanguard moved in haunting synchronicity, their steps soundless, their presence suffocating. Each warrior wore jet-black samurai-inspired armor accented with ominous crimson patterns that pulsed faintly, as though alive with some ancient, slumbering power. Their wings, vast and black as pitch, unfurled with menace, shadowing the ground beneath them like an encroaching storm. From their shoulders protruded the hilts of Yōketsu Blades—enchanted katanas said to drink the essence of those they felled. The faint hum of energy radiating from the blades was enough to make the air vibrate. 

Their faces were hidden behind intricately carved oni masks—terrifying visages of demons with snarling expressions, sharp horns, and fanged grins. The masks, rumored to be blessed by ancient dark rites, served not just to hide their identities but to paralyze their enemies with fear before the fight even began. 

Zuka stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the dense expanse of the Forest of Nate, his golden eyes scanning the horizon. The crimson glow of the dying sun cast his sharp features in stark relief, a figure of calm authority. He turned his gaze toward Noir, whose smirk mirrored the barely restrained storm in his crimson eyes. 

Zuka's voice cut through the air, steady and resolute. "It's time. Let's go." 

Without another word, Zuka's wings unfurled, their golden-black membranes catching the light as he leapt into the sky. Noir followed instantly, his own wings slicing through the air like the edges of a predator's claws. 

As the brothers soared upward, the Obsidian Vanguard took to the skies behind them, their movements seamless and synchronized. The soldiers crouched low, the hum of restrained power rolling through the air as their wings snapped open with an audible rush. With a single, powerful beat, they launched themselves into the air, their dark forms rising like shadows given life. 

The wind howled around them as they climbed higher, cutting through the reddened sky. Zuka's flight was precise, his every movement deliberate, his golden horns a beacon against the deepening crimson of the horizon. Behind him, Noir flew with effortless grace, his dark horns casting jagged shadows, his sharp grin visible even as he led the tide of shadows below. 

"Keep your formation," Zuka called over his shoulder, his voice calm but firm, carried over the wind. 

The Vanguard obeyed without hesitation, their oni masks glinting faintly as they adjusted their positions. The disciplined rhythm of their wings filled the air, blending into the sound of the wind, an ominous harmony that seemed to foretell what awaited in the Forest of Nate. 

The ground beneath them faded into shadow as they neared their destination. The forest loomed ahead, its twisted canopy reaching up like gnarled hands against the bloody horizon. Noir glanced back briefly, his crimson eyes meeting Kaizen's. 

"Make no mistake," Noir said, his voice a low growl that carried even over the rush of wind. "This is not a rescue mission. It's a reckoning." 

Kaizen gave a curt nod, his eyes steady behind the snarling visage of his oni mask. 

Zuka's voice broke through again, this time quieter, but no less commanding. "Stay sharp. The forest will welcome us with teeth." 

Their wings beat faster as they approached the forest's edge, their forms silhouetted against the darkening sky. They moved as one—unstoppable, deliberate, and merciless—descending into the crimson-tinged abyss that awaited them. 

As they neared the forest, both brothers sensed a disturbance—a group of men moving toward the forest from the opposite direction. 

"I don't like this," Kaizen said, narrowing his eyes. "I don't believe those men are here for a stroll. They're after something. The Slaves, perhaps." 

Noir's hand went to his katana, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "I'll have them dealt with." He raised his hand, about to signal his men to strike, when Zuka moved quickly, clamping a hand over Noir's mouth. 

"Wait, you fool," Zuka hissed. "That might be our only lead." 

Noir glared at his brother but lowered his hand. "Fine. What do you have in mind…" 

Zuka thought for a few seconds and turned to the men. "Men, descend to the ground. Split into groups of five," he commanded, his voice calm but firm. "When we reach the forest, form a pentagon barrier around the land. We need to contain them before they cause any harm. Do not let yourself be seen" 

The Dragonoid soldiers nodded in unison and moved into formation, their movements swift and precise as they closed in on the forest's edge. Shadows stretched across the twisted trees, the waning light casting an eerie glow over the looming expanse.

Zuka and Noir descended silently, their massive wings folding neatly behind them as their boots touched the forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint crackle of distant magic.

As soon as the mysterious group reached the forest, chaos erupted. The men charged into the camp of refugees, attacking with wild abandon. Screams echoed through the woods as they wreaked havoc. 

"Now," Zuka ordered, his voice cutting through the panic. The Dragonoid soldiers, in their groups of five, positioned themselves around the camp and raised their hands, shouting in unison. 

"Barrier, Pentagramma Aegis: Fivefold!" they chanted. A shimmering, five-pointed barrier formed around the camp, trapping the attackers inside. 

Noir stepped forward, a glint of anticipation igniting in his blood-red eyes. With a fluid motion, he unsheathed his katana, the blade catching the faint light and reflecting it in a sinister gleam. "Watashi wa yami o yobi, watashi no katana o nurimasu," he murmured, his voice low and resonant as dark magic pulsed along the blade's edge. 

In the blink of an eye, he was among the attackers, a streak of shadow and steel. The air seemed to ripple with his movements, too fast to follow. One by one, the men crumpled to the ground, their weapons clattering uselessly beside them.

By the time the final body fell, Noir stood at the center of the devastation, his katana dripping with dark energy, the eerie silence a testament to his ruthless efficiency.

Noir stood over them, his blade resting lazily at his side, dripping with power. He glanced at one of the men, his usual grin replaced by a cold, hard look. "Now," he said, voice dripping with malice, "what are you bastards doing here?" 

The men, beaten and bloody, said nothing, their eyes filled with fear. Noir sighed, shaking his head. He grabbed one of the men by the hand and, with a quick flick of his katana, sliced off one of his fingers.

The man howled in pain, clutching his hand as blood poured from the wound. 

"I'm only going to ask," Noir said, his voice chillingly calm, "nine more times." 

The camp was silent, thick with tension. Zuka's golden eyes bore into the man crumpled before him. Growing impatient, he grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him up effortlessly. 

"If you don't tell me who you are," Zuka's voice was cold, and dangerous, "I'll make sure you rot, suffering a slow, painful death." 

The man gasped, terror filling his eyes. "F-Fine! We'll talk!" 

Before he could continue, Noir, Zuka's twin, stepped forward, his red eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "Who hired you?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with threat. 

"We don't know!" the man stammered. 

Noir chuckled, leaning in close. "Really?" he said, his smirk widening. "Shall I jog your memory?" 

"Fine!" the man blurted, his voice trembling with fear. "We were approached by two men. One was human, the other seemed like a vampire. They said their slaves had escaped. That's all we know!" 

Noir's grin widened, though his eyes darkened. "Where did they find you?" 

"We were in Jordan, a human nation," the man replied quickly. "They offered us five thousand gold pieces to capture the slaves." 

Zuka, still gripping the man, pressed on. "Describe them. What did they look like?" 

The man swallowed, his voice shaking. "The vampire wore a hood, so I didn't see much of his face, but he had black hair. The human had light yellow hair and wore a purple robe. They… they moved like nobles." 

Zuka released the man, turning to his captain. "Kaizen, take them to the palace prison. Have them dealt with." 

Kaizen bowed deeply. "Yes, my lord." 

As the guards led the captives away, Noir's soft laugh echoed through the clearing. "You're getting bold, brother, ordering my men around." 

Zuka didn't respond, his eyes focused ahead. "We've got more important matters to discuss." 

Noir stepped closer, his playful demeanor fading. "How many slaves did you bring in?" 

"Around 150," Zuka said, his brow furrowing slightly. 

Noir raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "That's an unusually large number. Who needs that many slaves?" 

Before Zuka could answer, Noir's gaze shifted to a young dark elf boy standing nearby. His eyes narrowed with interest. "You," Noir called, gesturing with his hand. "Come here." 

The boy hesitated, his small frame trembling as he stepped forward. Fear flickered in his wide eyes, but he obeyed. Noir crouched to meet him, his tone steady, commanding, but oddly calm. As he compelled the boy with his magic "Look into my eyes," he said, his crimson gaze locking onto the boy's. "Where were you enslaved?"

The boy's voice wavered, barely above a whisper. "We… we were kept in a dungeon underground. They took one of us every day to serve different masters."

"What did the places look like?" Zuka asked, his voice measured but firm.

The boy couldn't remove his eyes from noir's gaze, struggling to find the words. "I… I don't know. But they felt… powerful. Royal, maybe."

Noir's gaze drifted to the boy's neck. With careful precision, he tilted the boy's head forward, revealing a faint, ominous mark etched into his skin—a snake coiled tightly around the figure of a man. Noir's eyes narrowed, his fingers grazing the brand. "Interesting," he murmured, a dark glint sparking behind his crimson irises. "These slaves aren't just crossbreeds. They're experiments."

Zuka stiffened, his golden eyes darkening. "Experiments?" 

Noir stood slowly, his usual grin fading into something colder, sharper. "Their energy is being harvested for black magic—this isn't about simple labor," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "It's far more dangerous than that." 

"How do you know?" Zuka pressed, his tone edged with suspicion.

Noir's lips curled into a faint smirk, the kind that hinted at secrets best left untold. "I may have… dabbled with such an organization in the past," he admitted, a flicker of amusement coloring his words. "They breed hybrids—mixing different races to create beings capable of harnessing immense power. That mark?" He gestured toward the boy. "It's their insignia. This isn't some random operation—it's a coordinated network, specializing in black magic. These refugees aren't just dark elves. They're part Necralith."

Zuka's eyes sharpened. "Necralith?"

Noir nodded, his tone taking on a dangerous edge. "Yes, Necralith It explains their pale skin. I can feel it—the blood of Necraliths mixed with dark elves. A Necralith can expel raw mana, while dark elves can absorb it from their surroundings. Imagine the potential of a hybrid: a being that not only consumes energy but weaponizes it. The perfect conduit for destruction."

Zuka's fists tightened, his golden aura flaring faintly with suppressed anger. "We have to stop this."

Noir let out a low, mocking laugh. "Why do you care so much, brother? Why not leave them to their fate?"

Zuka's expression hardened. "It's better to make allies than enemies. We need to be prepared for whatever's coming." 

Noir tilted his head, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Have you ever heard the tale of the turtle and the scorpion?"

Zuka raised an eyebrow. "No. What's it about?"

"The scorpion asked the turtle to carry him across the river," Noir began, his voice almost casual. "The turtle hesitated, fearing he would be stung. The scorpion promised not to, saying, 'Why would I sting you? Then we both drown.'"

Zuka frowned. "And?"

"Halfway across the river, the scorpion stung the turtle," Noir said, his voice darkening slightly. "When the turtle asked why, the scorpion replied, 'It's my nature.'"

Zuka remained unmoved. "And you think I'm being too trusting."

Noir's smile faded. "Yes, brother. I think you're noble. And in times like this, that nature comes shining through. That's why I'm here, to save you from yourself whenever you need it"

Zuka straightened. "I see brother, We'll fight together. This darkness can't be allowed to spread."

Noir grinned, his amusement returning. "Agreed. They've made their move. Now, it's our turn."

Zuka nodded, his determination set. "What's our next step?"

Noir's eyes gleamed with excitement. "It seems, dear brother, that we've got ourselves a vacation ticket to the land of humans."