Hello World 2

The crowd recoiled further as the tremors intensified, the ground quaking beneath their feet. Some fell to their knees, clutching their chests in fear, while others screamed and scrambled to get away from the platform. The air grew thick and heavy, almost suffocating, as if an unseen force was bearing down on them.

The speaker, now visibly shaken, struggled to maintain his composure. He glared at Gavin, his earlier confidence crumbling into desperation. "Blasphemy! Lies! The gods would never—"

A deafening crack split the air as one of the wooden beams supporting the platform snapped, causing the entire structure to lurch dangerously to one side. The boiling pot of oil tipped precariously, spilling more of its searing contents onto the ground below. The guards holding Gavin staggered, their grip loosening as they fought to keep their footing.

Seizing the moment, Gavin acted. With a deft twist of his wrists, he broke free from their grasp, his movements precise and fluid. He stepped to the edge of the platform, his back to the boiling pot, and raised his arms wide, addressing the panicked crowd.

"You wanted a sign," he called out, his voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. "Behold it now!"

The sky above darkened unnaturally, thick clouds swirling into a vortex as streaks of lightning danced within. The air was electric, charged with an energy that made the hair on everyone's necks stand on end. The crowd fell silent, their terror palpable.

Behind his back, Gavin flicked his fingers again, his subtle movements igniting faint trails of light that coiled around his hands like serpents. His eyes, once void-like, now burned with a faint glow that only the closest onlookers could see.

'I really am too good at this,' he thought with an inward smirk, though his outward expression remained one of stoic determination.

The speaker stumbled forward, his face pale and drenched in sweat. "This… this is no act of the gods! This is witchcraft!" he bellowed, his voice cracking.

Gavin turned his gaze toward him, his expression sharpening. "You call it witchcraft because it doesn't bow to your control. But this power isn't mine." He let his voice drop lower, more resonant. "It's theirs."

Another rumble shook the ground as the boiling pot of oil erupted, sending a plume of fire and smoke into the air. The crowd screamed, scattering in every direction. The guards on the platform shielded their faces, retreating in fear of the flames.

Gavin stepped down from the platform with a calmness that defied the chaos around him. As he walked toward the fleeing crowd, the ground seemed to steady beneath his feet, the tremors subsiding in his wake.

"Run, if you must," he said, his voice carrying despite the growing distance. "But know this: no pot of oil, no false rituals, will save you from what's coming."

The speaker tried to shout something, but his words were lost in the roar of the dissipating flames. Gavin glanced back at him, his expression unreadable.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the storm above dissolved, the skies returning to their ordinary blue. The air cooled, and silence fell over the square, broken only by the crackling of the remaining flames.

Gavin allowed himself the smallest of smirks as he disappeared into the thinning crowd.

'One hell of a show,' he thought. 'Now to see who buys it.'

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"A fine afternoon, isn't it, Mistress?."

A middle aged man with subtle aged features spoke softly while kneeling a few feet away from a slightly transparent white curtain, his head lowered, allowing the hood of his cloak to slightly cover half of his face.

The Mistress, who stood behind the curtain that blinded the man from seeing clearly her face, hummed slightly in response to his question.

"I take it the boy has done his part, as promised?"

The beautiful Mistress, with cream-ish long white hair, a youthful round fair face with plump rosy lips and red crimson eyes, asked with an unsurprised tone to her voice, after all, she had been waiting for the news.

"As promised. And with more excitement than we expected."

"Of course. The boy never fails to wreak havoc when in need."

She paused for a moment, raised her hands and narrowed her eyes, fueling crimson blood magic from her veins into her finger tips.

First her blood appeared as tiny dots on her finger, like they were pricked by small needles, then slowly formed bigger blobs, flowing out of her finger tips faster and faster, forming a huge blob of blood floating above her fingers.

When she was satisfied with the size she flicked her fingers slightly, making the blood flowing out of her fingers thin out until they were the size of a string.

Carefully, she began moving her fingers purposely, her finger movements made it look like she was sowing something like a rectangular purse. After focusing silently for a minute, she smiled, satisfied with her efforts.

She turned, facing the curtain, barely putting her hand through the white silk, handed 8 silk textured letters, each having different designs, to the still kneeling middle aged man, in front of the curtain.

"Send word to the others." She said firmly, "The time has come for new blood to take over."

--------

"A-a letter has arrived from your sister, m-my lord."

A clumsy looking maid with an uneasy look on her freckled face, peeked into a simple decorated room, she addressed a white haired young man with red eyes, sitting behind a brown desk at the farthest side of the room.

With a slight frown on his face, he stiffened, hearing what she'd said.

She stumbled forward, barely stopping in front of his desk and nearly tripping over. Reaching into her gown pockets, she shakingly handed him a plain white paper envelope with a blood red Seal and the words, 'To My Adorable Little Brother, Veronix.' written in crimson at the edge.

"Thank you, Gaia. I should read it now."

"Y-yes, Lord Veronix. I-I will give you some privacy."

The maid, Gaia, stepped back slowly, bowing slightly, before staggering out of the room.

Veronix looked back at the white paper envelope in his hands, feeling the seal with the detailed markings of a heart and dagger.

 A family crest.

 'His' family crest.

Gathering himself, he broke the red seal and opened the letter. He read through the first lines before his mood shifted, stopping and sighing heavily, his frustration evident in his breath.

"This is just like you. Always knowing when to fuck with peoples moods, isn't that right Onyx." He looked up and stared at the white ceiling above him, he closed his eyes, thinking for a few minutes before lowering his head back down.

"So father is dead." He said unfeelingly while opening his eyes. "He has to be if my sister is executing such a dangerous plan. Furthermore, he was weak. It was about time for her to try something."

Sighing once more, he stood up, placing the unread letter and open envelope down on the table. He didn't need to read more. He knew what was written there, he knew what was happening right now. It had been going on for months.

And if his sister had already sent him a letter it means what was happening in this kingdom, was happening in all the other 8 kingdoms. Dead rulers. One sure way to cause uncertainty and chaos. And uncertain citizens are always looking for the right option. And at that point, any self-proclaimed savior is the right option.

He just needed to be fast enough. If he could get to the boy before his opportunistic sister and her demented followers did, he could still have a chance.

A chance to still be alive by sunrise.