The Crimson Magus

The cold air thickened, pressing against Argolaith's chest like an unseen force. The Veiled Order's leader stood tall, his crimson robes swirling in the lingering darkness of his magic. His pitch-black eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched Argolaith, Kaelred, and Malakar recover from the shockwave.

Kaelred wiped blood from his lip, gripping his sword. "I knew coming here was a bad idea."

Argolaith smirked, standing up straight. "And yet, here we are."

The crimson-robed man chuckled, shaking his head.

"You are bold. I admire that." His voice was smooth, but beneath it was something deeper—something ancient.

Malakar, for once, looked unsettled. "Argolaith, be careful. This isn't just some cult leader—he's wielding forbidden magic. I can feel it."

The man smiled, raising his hand. "Good. You understand what you're dealing with."