Early Afternoon, Sylva Outskirts, Wistal.
Swooo...
A soft wind blew through the ruins of the forest. Most of the trees had been uprooted, while those that weren't were either scorched, barren or stripped of their leaves. The ground lay cracked and devastated like a bomb had detonated there.
Whirl! Swirl!
The sound of fast, swirling blades tore through the silence as a massive black airship came into view, descending from the clouds. Its collosal propeller churned the wind, as it hovered above the forest floor.
SWAAAM!
The airship landed heavily, sending dust spiralling into the air as its engine quieted. The entrance door groaned open, shifting and reshaping itself into a metallic staircase as it fell to the ground with a THUD!
At the entrance stood two men, clad in black suits and trousers, and sunglasses.
"Arrrgh..." A voice groaned from within.
Gradually, a black-haired man emerged. He was clad in a long, black, high-collared coat with a blood-red inner lining. The coat was fitted at the torso by multiple leather straps and buckles, giving it a military-gothic look. Beneath the coat was a black shirt tucked into slim black trousers. The trousers were fitted with side straps and a holsters on one thigh.
His hands were covered with black, fingerless gloves that were reinforced with buckles. His boots are tall and strapped around the shins, matching the rest of the outfit.
Every step he took carried authority and aura.
"Sir Glock!" The two men straightened instantly.
The man yawned lazily, waving them down. "Yeah," he muttered as he approached the stairs.
The sunlight some against his face, but he didn't flinch. His gaze lowered to the devastated forest, and his eyes widened.
"This place is finished," His chuckled dryly.
He reached into his pocket, drawing out a cigarette as he slipped it between his lips.
One of the men quickly flicked a lighter, stretching it to the cigarette as the flames caught.
"Suuu..." Glock inhaled deeply, exhaling a perfect ring of smoke.
"There's obviously no one who could survive this," he muttered, checking his wristwatch.
"Time's ticking. You two sweep right. I'll go left. Report everything. We don't want to piss off the old man," he commanded, walking down the stairs.
"Yes, sir!" They replied, bolting into the woods.
Glock strolled the opposite way, scanning the scarred terrain. "What the hell?!" He muttered irritably, puffing smokes into the air.
He wandered deeper into the forest until he suddenly halted.
"Oh?" He whispered, gaze lowering to the massive trench that yawned in front of him.
"Interesting," He said, eyes narrowing, as he threw his cigarette away.
"This strange energy," he muttered, and without hesitation, he leapt into the dark abyss, landing with ease.
Darkness swallowed him, but he pressed forward, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "It's getting stronger," he whispered.
Then he reached a point, and stopped.
"What do we have here?" He purred, locking on the pool of blood, flesh and bones piled high before him.
"So, this is the source of the energy?" He pondered, reaching for the flesh. He pressed his hand to the flesh as a soft blue light glowed from his palm.
After a few seconds, he withdrew, stepping back.
"I see," he realized. "The energy is not coming from this."
He turned to leave, and that's when he noticed it.
"Oh my..." Glock whispered, crouching next to his discovery.
Amidst the sea of bones and viscera, one thing stood different—a single drop of blood.
It glowed crimson, casting a red glow on the ground beneath it. It didn't splatter, instead, it remained whole, suspended in a perfectly spherical form.
"What is this?" Glock muttered, reaching out to it, as his fingertip brushed its surface.
But as his finger touched it—
Psst!
The droplet suddenly surged, shooting like liquid fire, as it pierced into his skin.
"Ugh...!" Energy ripped through his veins, as his eyes went bloodshot.
"Arrgh," he gasped, slowly calming.
A creepy smirk stretched across his face. "This feeling," he whispered, reaching into his pocket as he produced a glass vial, placing over the droplet as he sealed it.
The strange energy dissipates immediately.
"Almost worth the trip," he muttered, slipping it back into his suit.
When he climbed back out, the two men were already waiting.
"Find anything?" Glock asked lightly.
"Yes," they said together.
His brow curved. "What is that?" He asked.
One man stepped forward, holding a white envelope stamped in gold.
"A letter," he said.
Glock's expression soured. "A letter?" he repeated.
"Yes, sir. It was hanging from a branch and had a golden stamp. We thought it important."
"I see," Glock replied, snatching the letter. 'If it has a golden stamp, then it means two possibilities: it's written by a Sorcerer-general or 1st-grade sorcerer,' he thought.
'Then one of them was here,' Glock realized. 'Who was it?'
His eyes moved to the address. It read:
"To Whoever sees this first."
And beneath...
"From a god..."
Glock froze, his jaw tightening. There was no need to read forward, since there was only one person who referred to himself as God.
"That bastard..." Glock's smile twisted. "Van Ackerman."
"So Van Ackerman was here," he realized.
Glock pocketed the letter, and commanded, "Let's move," as the three vanished toward the airship.
***
To Be Continued...