After the conversation with Arden, they exited the café. For a few moments, both stood silently, gazing in different directions.
— You'll manage, Arden said without turning around.
— We'll see. If I survive... take me to a café again, Elian replied calmly.
Arden simply smiled and nodded:
— Good luck.
He turned and disappeared into the crowd. But Elian already felt it — they were approaching. The Guardians.
He walked along the seaside, as if aimlessly wandering. But his path led beyond the border. There, on the edge, where the dead land began — they were waiting.
Five of them.
Four men and one woman. All masked. Their figures seemed carved from the air — sharp, calm, and lethally dangerous.
One of them stepped forward and said:
— Your time has come, Elian.
— So that's what our master was talking about, said another with a smirk in his voice.
Elian slowly put on his mask.
— Who is he?
The woman laughed.
— You want to know? You're funny.
— That wasn't a question, Elian replied coldly.
He released his aura. A wave of terror flooded the area, the air trembled. The pressure was monstrous. The ground cracked beneath his feet. But the five didn't move an inch.
One of them responded:
— You'll find out... when you become one of us.
— What? Elian narrowed his eyes. — What are you talking about?
He turned fully toward them and slowly stepped forward.
— Well then, shall we have some fun?
They laughed. Their laughter was muffled, cold — not belonging to the living.
Weapons were drawn: a black scythe, a heavy axe, a long sword, a rune-wrapped blade, and ringing chains humming with faint energy.
Darkness enveloped Elian. His right arm and half of his body were covered in black, pulsating markings. His eyes glowed red.
— Fun, he muttered with a smirk.