[All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.] – St. Francis of Assisi

"What is that?" Araumir asked, seeing Azar inspect a black orb the size of a human's head. The orb emitted a faint spatial aura, and when Azar infused it with some of his flux, the orb absorbed it like a starving hound, without changing or showing any sign of gratitude.

"A spatial black ball, I believe," Azar responded.

"Thank you for the information. And with two legs and two hands, you must be a human, I believe," Araumir joked, unsatisfied with the vague explanation.

"I don't know what it is. If you have the means to identify it, be my guest," Azar said, offering the orb to Araumir.

"If you don't know what it is, it would be useless to give it to me," Araumir replied, shaking his head.

"Who are you?" asked a dark-skinned man after pushing the brown curtain aside, entering the room in the tent.

The man stared at the two strangers with a malicious yet curious gaze, while Azar and Araumir stopped their conversation, staring back in shock. One thought was clear on their faces: "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Strange things in this era," Azar remarked, not bothering to hide the black orb in his hand.

"Very," Araumir added, his body blurring as he moved to catch the intruder, who had no presence.

Reacting reflexively, faster than anything else he could do, the man opened his mouth to scream. However, the distance was too short, and before any sound could escape, Araumir's hand struck the his neck with the blade of his palm. Lights out, the man instantly dropped to the floor.

"What should we do with him?" Araumir asked, grabbing the man by his robe.

Azar tilted his head to the right, smiling tightly. "Bury him." He pointed at the blood dripping from the man's open mouth. "Glad, he's still in one piece."

"Hm?" Araumir lifted the man to eye level. "Damn," he cursed, noticing the odd angle of the man's head. "I broke his neck."

"I think you crushed it. He's bleeding," Azar noted. "You have to be careful with that strength of yours. Once we get back to Mirha, i'll have you do some training to control it better."

"He had no aura. I didn't know his level," Araumir tried to defend himself.

"I don't blame you, but now we don't know who he was. If he was just an anomaly, born with the ability to conceal his aura or lucky enough to find a technique, everything is good. But what if he was something more?" Azar asked.

"Can't you read his mind to find out?" Araumir asked.

After receiving a stern gaze from Azar, he lowered his head in apology.

"If I force myself to read his mind right now, a vein might pop in my head. And mind reading, using my technique, isn't something that can be done two hours after death. The information isn't actually stored in the brain, you should know that," Azar said in a heavy tone. "But fine, I'll take the risk. Better shouldering an injury than missing a piece of the puzzle."

"Forgive me," Araumir apologized.

"Don't worry," Azar said.

Approaching the dead man, Azar opened his eyelids, gazing into his pupils.

"Strange," Azar said after a few moments. "There's no one home."

"What?" Araurmir asked. "What do you mean by that?"

Without answering, Azar started to inspect the corpse, only to step back in fright after a few seconds.

"Didn't you realize the body is cold?" he asked.

"No," Araumir replied, placing a hand on the dead man's forehead.

"No presence, unable to read his memory, and a cold body. This one was dead before you hit him," Azar realized.

"But he was moving and talking. Is he a vampire?"

Azar raised an eyebrow. "Vampires have a soul that remains attached to the body after death, healing the body with time. The soul is contained within the spirit, which has consciousness and memories. This one has neither, so it's probably just an animated body or a puppet."

Araumir let go of the corpse, which hit the floor with a thud. "I never liked organic puppets." He cleaned his hand with Vulcryn -his flame.

"This is the strangest thing I've seen since I came back. I didn't expect this world to still have things worth my attention. Seems not all the good things remained in the past," Azar said.

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"Speaking of strange things, I forgot to mention something," Araumir said. "This world now seems to have the notion of robots."

"...hmm? How could that be? Don't you see these people still don't have baths in their homes?" Azar asked. "How could they know what's a robot? But they have some strange technology though."

"When I fought the two Djinn-borns after the Void Storm passed, one of them called me a fluxoid. He said he would like to have one for himself, like his friend," Araumir related.

"And you remembered to tell me this only now?" Azar asked. "Why have you not waited until the next year?"

"Back then you were inclined to leave, so I didn't give it much importance since I thought we wouldn't stay here for long," Araumir explained.

"Could there be places where this world has reached such technological advancement?" Azar pondered aloud. "But this seems impossible, as Zenthara is still categorized as a naturally evolving world, not a technological one. Then again, could this be why we retained some of our memories about technology?"

Araumir remained silent, unable to provide an explanation.

"I have too little information to understand the big picture, so for now, let's take the world as it is," Azar said. "But since we're trapped in this world, please be vigilant and inform me if you find anything unusual, alright?"

"Yes, now that we're here, I'll pay more attention to details," Araumir replied.

"Good. Send the shadow folk into position to make the Scorpion Guards disappear from this desert at your command, and let's make contact with the elder from Zahabis' memories," Azar instructed, motioning for Araumir to enter the shadow world below.

Straightening his back, his eyes gleaming with a dark purpose, Araumir sent a mental command for the shadow folk to take action. It was time for them to prove their worth. Then, placing a hand on his master's shoulder, they both submerged into the shadow they came from.

From Araumir's stomach, straight into the shadow world they all had access to, figures began to emerge. They were the shadow folks, spectral beings, somewhat weak in combat but highly proficient as spies and kidnappers. Silent and swift, they moved like wisps of smoke, their forms indistinct and constantly shifting, blending seamlessly with the darkness around them.

The Scorpion Guards, known for their fierce combat power and unwavering vigilance, were mostly stationed around the chief's residence, their senses sharp for any sign of threat, especially from their own tribesmen. But the threat they faced today was unlike any other. The shadow folk slipped past their defenses, merging with the shadows of the very guards they sought to capture.

One by one, the shadow folk moved into position, their presence unnoticed by the guards. They waited for Araumir's signal, their ghostly forms coiled and ready to strike. Guided by the information Azar obtained from Zahabis' memories, Araumir reached the house where the elder resided.

"Everything is ready," Araumir informed Azar.

Azar nodded. "I will go talk to the elder. Be ready to protect me if necessary."

As the sun burned too strongly for the old man to resist the outside heat, he found refuge inside his home. After a certain age, not possessing a high enough cultivation level, the fleshy body of an old man couldn't endure the searing heat of the desert.

Sitting cross-legged in deep meditation, the elder's eyes sprang open the moment Azar started to emerge inside the room, revealing his presence. Gathering flux into his palms, the man was prepared to defend himself without wasting a second, all under Azar's delightful gaze.

"I mean no harm; my enemy is the Scorpion Order," Azar stated, raising his hands as he fully emerged inside the room.

Hearing his words, though startled and scared, the elder didn't attack but continued to circulate his energy, maintaining his alertness. Sensing Azar's pitiful cultivation level made the man more confident in his ability to defend himself and more receptive to Azar's words.

"I know you are the most respected figure remaining alive in this tribe," Azar continued. "So I have come to talk business with you. I can get rid of both the Scorpion Guard and your current chief. Are you inclined to have a conversation with me?"

"I have nothing to discuss with you," the elder said coldly.

"You're playing hard to get, right? If you were a woman in her twenties, I might play along. Unfortunately, that's not the case," Azar said to ease the tension. "Are you suspecting that I am someone from the organization supporting Zahabis?" he correctly stated the elder's suspicion. "Then let me prove my stance. Araumir, let him see for himself."

Listening to his words, Araumir expanded Azar's shadow, displaying Zahabis' current condition on it for the elder to see. The elder, dividing his attention between keeping an eye on Azar and looking at the image displayed on the floor, seemed to relax a little after seeing his tribe chief held captive inside the dark world, his body illuminated by the eerie light of the centipede.

"Are you aware of Zahabis' plans for the Mirha tribe?" Azar asked, analyzing the elder's reactions.

"Yes, I am," the elder replied.

Azar smiled warmly, pleased with the growing trust and more friendly atmosphere.

"Thank you, Araumir," Azar said, and Araumir closed the image, letting his master's shadow return to its original form. "As you can see, elder, I am in a weak condition. However, I have a friend tasked with my protection who will remain hidden in my shadow out of consideration for you. We could have kidnapped you and have this conversation under entirely different circumstances, but we came with peaceful intentions and do not wish to disrespect you." Azar lowered his hands and sat on the floor.

"Who are you?" the elder asked, uncertain what to believe after Azar's words.

Azar laughed. "If you knew how many people have asked me that in the past few days." He tilted his head. "You can call me Azar. I am an existence with deep ties with some of the tribes, and I can no longer ignore their situation. Do you love your tribe, elder? Your people, your freedom, and your home?"

"What are you asking? There's no one from the eighteen tribes who doesn't hold these things close to heart," the elder replied.

Azar nodded repeatedly, lips pursed. "I thought you might say that. Many of the people I've met share the same beliefs. And yet, there are people like Zahabis who would sell even their blood for power. Elder, I'm not sure how much you know, but the free territories and the tribes have become targets for those desiring expansion," Azar said with a deep sigh, appearing affected by the half-truths he shared.

Truth be told, he had reason to believe this, as it was highly likely the Scorpion's Order, the organization supporting Zahabis desired control over the tribes and their territory. However, lacking solid proof, he could only speculate about their intentions. Nevertheless, to achieve his objectives, Azar was ready to dramatize and use half-truths that could never backfire, solely because they harbored a part of the truth, to manipulate those around him.

"What do you mean by that?" the elder asked. "Are you saying outside powers are trying to meddle in the tribes' business? That won't happen. They won't break the treaty."

So there's a treaty in place, Azar thought. But when was a treaty ever honored by the strong?