Thal, Khsan
The vehicle arrived outside the tree filled riverside of Khsan, there a battle was taking place. A car was discarded a few meters away from where the battle was taking place, looking close it was Uncle Cedric and illantra.
They were taking on a young woman with shoulder length blonde hair, she wore a vest and combat trousers. Elowen could not believe her eyes, the young woman was clearly taking on both uncle Cedric and illantra. These two were among the elites of the underworld and yet here she was going head to head with them, with a detached gaze.
Elowen's breath caught in her throat as she watched the scene unfold. The riverbank was a storm of motion, black-suited forms streaked with vein-like pulses clashing against the calm, almost eerie precision of the blonde woman. Cedric—Uncle Ced—moved with the lethal grace of a man who had spent decades mastering every inch of his body. Lightning arced along his suit, sending brief flashes that illuminated the riverbank like fireflies in a storm.
Illantra was already a shadow on the move. Every step she took was measured, deliberate—predatory. Her hair, tied back, swayed with the rhythm of her body as she lunged, struck, and vanished again into the fluid dance of the fight. Yet the blonde barely flinched, her shoulder-length hair bouncing as she deflected, twisted, and countered with the precision of someone who could read the battlefield before it even existed.
Elowen's eyes widened. She had known Cedric and Illantra's reputations—they were among the elite of the Underworld for a reason—but the blonde held them in a way that seemed effortless, almost inhuman. Each strike, each parry, each step was a demonstration of absolute control, yet her expression remained blank, detached. It was unsettling, the way she could absorb two of the underworld's deadliest fighters and make it look like a sparring match.
Cedric lunged again, his body arcing with lightning as he aimed a sweeping strike at the blonde's midsection. She sidestepped, pivoting on her boots with uncanny timing, and drove her heel into the river sand, sending him stumbling. Illantra seized the opening, slinking in like a panther, claws and fists ready to rend—but the blonde anticipated her every move, twisting, sidestepping, and striking back in a blur that made it impossible to track.
Elowen's chest tightened. The water around them rippled violently with each clash, mud and spray flying as the three combatants turned the surrounding area into a tempest of motion. Cedric's lightning flared brighter, while Illantra's movements became more fluid, more lethal, adapting like a predator in real-time.
And yet, the blonde never hesitated. She didn't retreat, didn't panic, didn't even breathe hard. From where stood, it was as if the battlefield had bent around her, as if the river sand, the air itself obeyed her. She was holding two Deadmen at bay—not just surviving, but controlling, dictating the tempo of the fight with a calm detachment that made Elowen's stomach twist.
Elowen swallowed hard, knowing that if they did not intervene the stalemate might remain unbroken.
"Do you hear that?" Sipho asked moving to stand nex to her.
"What?" she asked confused by his sudden question
Marcellus moved forward cracking his neck followed by Sunphire who regarded the whole situation with a curious gaze.
"No sound is coming from their battle, and no sound is coming from the surroundings." Marcellus answered
Sipho nodded, she widened her eyes in realization.
"Must be a high ranker, I will go towards the river and search for Neil." Sipho spoke unhurriedly taking a step forward, Sunphire followed behind him.
"I am going with." she spoke with a smile.
Elowen regarded her with a questioning gaze before sighing and nodding, she turned to Marcellus:
"Shall we?" she asked pointing at the silent battle happening.
"Of course." he spoke taking out his two axes which hung from his utility belt.
His Exo armor suit crept over him like liquid midnight, molding perfectly to every muscle, sleek and predatory as a panther ready to strike. Vein-like lines pulsed along its surface, glowing faintly like the heartbeat of some primal force beneath the skin.
As for her, she did not feel comfortable with the idea of wearing Conspiracy material over her as she was a sister of the church. So Noctalis had built her clergyman attire out of the strongest material there was and made sure it would work like armor although it was way below the Exo armor it still had enough durability to endure most attacks from low level conspiracy.
They followed behind Sipho and Sunphire, when they were almost by the abandoned car the blonde haired woman ignored Cedric and Illantra.
The blonde's gaze flicked toward the new arrivals the instant they came within range, her head turning with the slow inevitability of a predator scenting prey. The rhythm of the fight broke. Cedric and Illantra drew back instinctively, sensing the shift.
Sipho didn't hesitate. His arm swept across his chest, a motion fluid and deliberate, almost ceremonial. Elowen barely had time to register the faint distortion that shimmered around his outline, a ripple in the air, as if reality itself had inhaled.
The blonde blurred forward, faster than sight.
But Sipho had already moved.
He caught Sunphire by the arm and stepped.
The air folded in on itself with a dull, wet sound—like fabric being wrung through dimensions. For a fraction of a heartbeat, their figures stretched, bent, and vanished, leaving only a faint smear of light where they'd stood. The silence that followed was deafening.
The blonde's strike cut through empty space. Her eyes widened—not in fear, but in confusion, a flicker of calculation fracturing her detached calm. She straightened slowly, scanning the riverbank, as if expecting them to reappear in front of her.
They didn't.
Marcellus' axes hummed in his hands as he stepped forward beside Elowen.
"No wonder they are the most feared race across the world," he murmured, his voice low with a mix of awe and concern. "Even she didn't see it."
Elowen's gaze darted toward the ground where Sipho and Sunphire had vanished.
"There is only one of he and four of us," she whispered, "This is our chance to turn the tables."