Crack!

A crystal goblet slipped from the Marshal Commander’s grasp and shattered against the polished obsidian floor with a discordant crash. "What utter nonsense is this report?!" His booming voice reverberated through the dim chamber, laced with a fury that sent tremors of fear down the spines of the two kneeling figures before him.

Kahless, his right arm and leg now fully healed and wrapped in bandages, exchanged a nervous glance with Warden Poahf. Both kept their heads bowed as they trembled under the oppressive weight of their superior's wrath.

Dravenik was an imposing figure with broad shoulders and a stern face painted with the lines of countless battles. He spun around. His dark eyes, like burning embers, bore into Kahless and Poahf, promising a reckoning that would leave their souls scorched.

"Is this some kind of perverse joke?" Dravenik sounded like a whip cracking against stone. "A Duke of the Dune Empire... dead? Assassinated? And within the very borders of my Nathor region? How could this have happened?"

Kahless repeated his earlier account of the events at the Rendil Temple. He described the Aerithran prisoners' escape, the destruction of the Cloud Portal, the battle with the old man and his strange staff, and the arrival of Duke Theodore and his Imperial Guards. He then recounted, with a tremor in his voice, how the young Aerithran boy had somehow managed to overpower the guards and shoot the Duke with his own Aether Pistol.

"And the old man... the one who led the rebellion... the one who wielded the strange staff?" Dravenik pressed, his memory beginning to stir with a spark of familiarity.

Poahf spoke up, her tone still tinged with a hint of the sultry purr that usually characterized her interactions with subordinates. "He was... unusual, Marshal Commander. An elderly Aerithran with a weathered face and strong physiques. The bulge in his pants was quite robust. His body was covered in... strange markings, glyphs of some sort. And his staff... it could grow to enormous sizes, and it seemed to... absorb and redirect energy."

Dravenik's eyes narrowed as Poahf's description sparked a memory from the invasion of Cloud Hamlet. He recalled a similar figure, an elderly Aerithran with glyphs on his body and a staff that defied explanation. Could it be the same man? Could he have survived the inferno that had engulfed Cloud Hamlet?

He quickly dismissed the thought. It didn't matter. Whether it was the same old man or not, the fact remained that a Duke of the Dune Empire was dead, and it was all due to the incompetence of these two kneeling before him.

Dravenik paced back and forth, his anger simmering just below the surface. He knew that the Dune Directorate would not be pleased with this news. They would demand answers, they would seek retribution, and they would make an example of those responsible.

He stopped before Kahless and Poahf, his gaze fixed on them with an intensity that made them squirm. "You have failed," he said coldly. "You have failed the Dune Empire. And you will face the consequences."

"M-Marshal Commander," Kahless stammered, "I... I beg your forgiveness. I... I underestimated the old man's power. I..."

"Excuses!" Dravenik roared, cutting him off. "I care not for your excuses! You had one job - to secure the air affinity prisoners and deliver them to the Capital. And you failed."

"I... I take full responsibility, Marshal Commander," said Poahf. "It was my fault. I underestimated the prisoners' resolve. I..."

"Silence!" Dravenik barked. "Your incompetence is staggering, Warden. You allowed a group of prisoners to escape from an impenetrable fortress. You allowed a Duke of the Imperial Court to be assassinated within your own domain. You are a disgrace to the Dune Empire."

Poahf and Kahless trembled as they listened to Dravenik's harsh words. They knew that their careers were over, that their lives were forfeit. They awaited their punishment with both fear and resignation.

"The Dune Directorate will not be merciful," Dravenik continued. "They will demand retribution. They will make an example of you both."

He paused and added, "And when the Delscrens hear of this... well, let's just say you'll wish you'd never been born."

A chill ran down Poahf's spine as she heard the name "Delscren." She knew of the Delscren bloodline, one of the most ancient and influential noble families within the Dune Empire. Their lineage stretched back centuries, and their power and influence were unmatched. They held sway over vast territories, commanded legions of soldiers, and possessed wealth beyond imagination.

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And Duke Theodore... he was a Delscren.

Poahf shuddered as she imagined the wrath of the Delscren family, their fury at the death of one of their own. She was aware they would stop at nothing to avenge their fallen kin, that they would unleash their power and influence to crush those responsible.

'They'll hunt me down,' she thought, her heart pounding with fear. 'They'll torture me... they'll kill me...'

Kahless, on the other hand, was more concerned about his position in the army. He was a Vice-Marshal Commander, a high-ranking officer with a promising career ahead of him. But now, with the Duke's death, his future was uncertain. He would be stripped of his rank, his authority, his everything.

He glanced at Dravenik, hoping that his Marshal Commander might intercede on his behalf, that he might use his influence to mitigate his punishment.

'Please,' he thought desperately. 'Please, Dravenik, save me.'

But Dravenik's expression remained impassive, his eyes cold and calculating. He showed no sign of sympathy or compassion.

But then…

"I will personally travel to the Capital," Dravenik announced, his words carried a weight of finality. "I will inform the Delscrens of Duke Theodore's demise, and I will face their judgment."

A wave of relief washed over Kahless and Poahf. If Dravenik was going to the Capital, it meant that he would take the blame, that he would shield them from the Delscrens' wrath.

'Thank you,' Kahless thought gratefully.

'He's saving us,' Poahf realized.

But why? Dravenik was not known for his compassion or his sense of loyalty to those lower in rank. He was a ruthless and ambitious man, a warrior who cared only for power and victory. Why would he risk his own career to protect them?

They would never know the answer, for Dravenik dismissed them with a curt wave of his hand. "Get out of my sight," he growled. "And don't let me see your faces again."

“Yes, Marshal Commander!”

Kahless and Poahf scrambled to their feet, bowing their heads in submission as they backed out of the chamber.

Once they were gone, Dravenik sank into his chair, his fingers interlocked as he pondered the situation. The escape of the Aerithran prisoners was a setback, a complication that he hadn't anticipated. It could disrupt the Dune Directorate's plans, their ambitions of power and control.

His mind lingered on a specific detail from Kahless's report - the mention of the old man's strange abilities, his mastery over the wind element, and the glyphs that adorned his body.

'Could it be...?' a thought stirred within Dravenik's mind, a possibility that both intrigued and alarmed him. 'Could the old man be... an Aether Void Elementalist?'

He had heard whispers of such beings, individuals who possessed the ability to manipulate the fifth element, the very essence of creation. They were said to be incredibly rare, and their powers were legendary.

If the old man was indeed an Aether Void Elementalist, it would explain his ability to control the Sand Krayt Dragons, his mastery over the wind element, and the strange glyphs that adorned his body. It would also explain the immense power he had displayed during the battle with Kahless and Poahf.

'This could be... a problem,' Dravenik thought, a frown creasing his brow.

He glanced out the window of the outpost and settled his gaze upon the distant Wind Barrier that surrounded the Aerithra Kingdom. He could see the flashes of light and the plumes of smoke as the Dune Empire's heavy artillery bombarded the barrier, attempting to break through its swirling defence.

'We need to find a way to penetrate that barrier,' he thought, his fist clenching tightly. 'We need to capture those air affinity prisoners. And we need to... eliminate that old man before he becomes a threat.'

His eyes, burning with a mixture of ambition and anger, reflected the glow of the setting sun as he vowed to achieve his goals, no matter the cost.

…

At the heart of the massive crater where the Rendil Temple once stood, the very fabric of space warped and twisted. A swirling vortex of energy materialized, spitting out two figures onto the ashen ground. One was a scarecrow-like entity wearing a conical straw hat, the other a man clad in a tattered yellow gi, his left arm missing, replaced by a blackened stump that still smouldered with the remnants of the Sage Curse's fiery grip.

This man was Sorah.

He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. He shifted his gaze across the desolate landscape. He touched the blackened stump of his left arm with his right hand, a wave of phantom pain shooting through his body.

“Arh…”

He glanced at the Rice Guru, who stood beside him with a worried expression. "Did... did we actually experience that just now? Or was it... a dream?" Sorah asked.

The Rice Guru shook his head. "Look around, Master Sorah. It was no dream."

He gestured towards the vast crater, a gaping wound in the earth that stretched out as far as the eye could see. The remnants of the Rendil Temple lay scattered amongst the rubble, which proved the destructive power that had been unleashed.

Sorah stared at the devastation as his mind struggled to process the events of the past few hours or days? He remembered the battle with Kahless and Poahf, the summoning of the Baboon Dragon Trinity, the clash of elemental powers, and the blinding flash of light that had engulfed them all.

And then... nothing.

He had no memory of what happened next, only a vague sense of falling, of being pulled through a swirling vortex of energy, and then... waking up in that place, in that strange environment…

"Where... where are we?" Sorah asked.

"This... this is the Hoshin Realm," the Rice Guru explained. "The realm of the Baboon Dragons and your father, Aoi Kyoshin."