The landscape of Furashima stretched out before Zin and Zeke as they stood at the precipice, looking down upon the ruins of Omaproz. The city, once hailed as a stronghold of magical knowledge and arcane experimentation, was now a ghost of its former self. The sun, dipping low in the sky, cast long shadows across the broken streets and crumbled towers, giving the entire scene an eerie glow.

Zin’s sharp black eyes narrowed as he scanned the lifeless city. The wind howled through the cracks in the ancient buildings, carrying with it the faint scent of something acrid and burned. His heart pounded in his chest, not from fear, but from the tension of what lay ahead. He had trained his whole life for moments like this—missions where the fate of the guild, the continent, perhaps even the world, rested on his shoulders. And yet, something about this place unsettled him.

"It looks abandoned," Zin murmured, his voice barely audible over the whistling wind.

Zeke stood beside him, the massive man’s imposing figure, a silent guardian at Zin’s side.

Zeke’s grizzled face, weathered by years of combat and loss, showed no emotion, but his clenched fists betrayed his unease. His brass knuckles, worn but still deadly, gleamed faintly in the dying light.

"It doesn’t feel right," Zeke said, his deep voice rumbling like distant thunder.

"The reports said this city was fortified, an army of mages stationed here to guard their secrets. There’s no way they’d just abandon it."

Zin tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. His connection to Seisen, the ancient martial art of channeling energy through one’s body, pulsed beneath his skin, reacting to the tension in the air.

"They didn’t leave willingly," he said, more to himself than to Zeke. "Whatever happened here… it wasn’t planned."

Zeke nodded. "It feels like a trap. But if they’re gone, we need to find out why. If they’re here, we flush them out."

Without further hesitation, the two warriors descended the rocky path leading into Omaproz. The once-grand city loomed before them, its towering spires now reduced to broken, skeletal remains. The streets were eerily silent, the usual sounds of life—merchants calling out from stalls, children playing, the hum of magic—now replaced by the hollow echo of their footsteps.

Zin’s senses were on high alert. He could feel the faint remnants of magic in the air, like the aftertaste of a bitter drink. It was old, decayed, and yet… something stirred beneath it. He glanced at Zeke, whose weathered face was unreadable but whose posture betrayed a readiness for battle.

They walked in silence for a long while, their eyes scanning the buildings and alleyways for any sign of life. But there was nothing—no movement, no voices, just the ever-present wind whispering through the ruins.

"This doesn’t make sense," Zin muttered, crouching down to inspect a set of tracks barely visible in the dust.

"There were people here recently. These footprints… they’re scattered, panicked."

Zeke knelt beside him, his hand brushing against the dirt. "They left in a hurry," he observed. "Whatever happened, it was enough to make an army flee."

Zin stood, his eyes scanning the horizon. "It feels like they’re still here, watching us. Waiting for something."

Zeke rose to his full height, his massive frame towering over Zin. "If they are, we’ll find them. Let’s not give them the chance to surprise us."

They continued deeper into the heart of Omaproz, moving with the caution of seasoned warriors. Every alleyway, every broken window felt like it hid unseen eyes, watching their every move. Zin’s connection to Seisen hummed beneath his skin, reacting to the faint magical disturbances that lingered in the air.

As they approached the city’s central square, the tension thickened. The once-beautiful plaza, with its intricate mosaic of stones and fountains that had once been enchanted to dance with water, was now cracked and overgrown with weeds. Statues of ancient mages, their faces eroded by time, loomed over the square like forgotten gods.

Zeke’s eyes narrowed as he looked around. "We should be seeing resistance by now. Even if they left, they’d have left traps. Defenses."

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Zin nodded. His mind raced, piecing together the strange puzzle of Omaproz’s abandonment. "It’s too quiet."

Just as the words left his lips, a faint ripple of magic coursed through the air. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Zin’s finely tuned senses caught it. His muscles tensed, and his eyes darted around the square. "We’re not alone."

Before Zeke could respond, the air around them crackled with energy. From the shadows of the ruined buildings, dark figures emerged—mages, their faces obscured by hoods and masks. They moved with the precision of soldiers, their hands already glowing with the power of spells being prepared.

"There they are," Zeke growled, his voice low but filled with anticipation. He flexed his hands, the brass knuckles gleaming in the fading light.

Zin’s eyes flickered between the approaching mages, counting their numbers. "At least a dozen," he said, his voice calm despite the rising tension. "And more lurking in the shadows."

Zeke cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing through the square like a promise of violence. "Then we show them why they should’ve stayed hidden."

With a roar, Zeke charged forward, his massive frame moving with a speed that belied his size. His brass knuckles collided with the first mage, sending the man flying backward into a crumbling wall. Zin followed close behind, his fists crackling with Seisen energy as he ducked beneath a spell and landed a crushing blow to another mage’s chest.

The battle erupted into chaos. Zin moved like a shadow, his body a blur of motion as he weaved between the mages, striking with precise, devastating blows. His connection to Seisen flared with every strike, the blue energy flowing through him like a river, amplifying his strength and speed. Each punch sent a shockwave of power rippling through the air, dropping mages to their knees.

Zeke fought with the fury of a hurricane. His brass knuckles smashed through magical barriers as if they were made of glass, his strikes sending mages sprawling. Despite his age, his movements were powerful and relentless, each blow carrying the weight of decades of combat experience.

But the mages were relentless, more emerging from the shadows with every passing moment. The air grew thick with the crackle of magic—lightning bolts streaking toward them, fireballs erupting from the hands of their enemies. Zin and Zeke were forced to retreat, their backs pressed against the crumbling walls of an old building as they deflected spell after spell.

The deeper Zin and Zeke ventured into Omaproz, the more suffocating the atmosphere became. Every step felt heavier, as though the very air was weighing them down, thick with something dark and insidious.

Zin’s connection to Seisen pulsed erratically, sensing magic but unable to pinpoint its source. “This city was fortified,” Zeke muttered, his deep voice rumbling in the silence. “What could force them to abandon it so completely?”

Zin’s sharp gaze fell on the architecture around them—buildings that once housed powerful mages, now reduced to crumbling ruins. His fingers brushed the surface of a wall, feeling the remnants of wards that had long since broken.

“The magic is fractured, like it was ripped apart from within,” he observed, eyes narrowing as he pieced together the puzzle. It wasn’t just abandonment—it was destruction from the inside. Whatever had happened here, it was violent and deliberate.

Suddenly, Zin stopped, his senses tingling as he felt a surge of energy. “Zeke, get ready,” he warned, his fists clenched as he prepared for an attack.

From the shadows, cloaked figures appeared—mages, dozens of them, their eyes glowing beneath their hoods. Zin and Zeke had been expecting a fight, but the number of enemies was staggering. The air crackled with the intensity of the magic being summoned, spells forming in the hands of the ambushers.

Zeke moved first, his brass knuckles flashing as he charged into the fray. His first strike sent a mage crashing into a nearby building, but more quickly took his place. Zin followed, his body surging with Seisen energy as he parried a bolt of fire aimed at his chest. The battle was chaotic, magic lighting up the ruins as Zin and Zeke fought back.

They were outnumbered, but years of experience kept them alive, moving fluidly as they countered spell after spell.

Despite their skill, the sheer volume of mages forced them to retreat, their backs to an old, decaying tower. “They’re trying to corner us into a trap,” Zin grunted, deflecting another blast of energy.

Zeke, breathing heavily but still fighting fiercely, nodded. “Then we turn the tables.”

Zeke grunted as he deflected a blast of energy, his knuckles sizzling with heat. "Then let’s not give them the satisfaction."

But before they could move, the ground beneath them trembled. A pulse of dark magic surged through the earth, and the cobblestones beneath their feet began to crack. Zin’s eyes widened as the ground gave way, collapsing into a pit of darkness below.

"Zeke!" Zin shouted, but it was too late. The earth opened beneath them, and they were swallowed by the shadows.

Zin’s body slammed into the cold, hard ground, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. For a moment, everything was darkness—his mind spinning, his body aching. He groaned, pushing himself up on trembling arms as he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

The air around him was thick, heavy, and filled with a strange, oppressive energy. His Seisen senses, normally so sharp, felt muddled, as if something was clouding his mind. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, but the world around him continued to blur and shift.

When his vision finally cleared, Zin realized with a start that he was no longer in Omaproz. The crumbling streets, the oppressive magic, the battle with the mages—it was all gone. Instead, he stood in a place he hadn’t seen in years.

The training grounds of Seisen Academy.