Chapter 20

A man was riding atop a bike of some sorts—a bike seemingly crafted for long-distance travel, capable of navigating through rough terrains with its large tires and a chassis resembling that of a dune buggy. The rider, surrounded by the dense embrace of trees, accelerated through the forest, raising a cloud of dust in his wake.

As the trees gradually gave way, an old mansion emerged about a kilometer in the distance. The man twisted the accelerator, accelerating toward the mansion. Soon, he arrived at the front, where imposing iron gates, adorned with the emblem of a flaming phoenix, stood closed. Positioned before the gates were two uniformed men, adorned with an insignia matching that of the phoenix emblem. Spotting the approaching stranger, one of the guards shouted, "Stop this instant!"

Responding to the command, the man on the bike applied the brakes, coming to a halt about twenty feet from the imposing gates. The guard, with a tone of authority, questioned, "Who are you, and what's your business here?" The rider dismounted the bike with a metallic clink, his boots making contact with the ground.

The man lifted his gaze toward the guards, and an eerie silence descended upon them. Caught in the grip of an unseen force, the guards found themselves breathless, unable to articulate a response. A malevolent grin curled on the man's lips, savoring the silence like a predator toying with its prey. His voice, a disconcerting blend of otherworldly resonance, taunted them, "What happened? Where did all that energy go?" It was a voice that seemed to echo from the bowels of a nightmare, a force of nature given vocal cords.

Undeterred by their silence, the man started walking towards the guards. Each step he took seemed deliberate, a slow approach that only intensified their unease. Adorned in a peculiar metallic armor, not resembling the typical attire of knights or soldiers, it could best be described as a plate-jacket—predominantly red with touches of black. The armor emitted muffled metallic sounds with every step, and by the man's side, a scabbard housed a saber-like sword, a seemingly ordinary weapon with a basic design for both handle and scabbard.

The man, standing tall at about 6'2 feet, appeared to be in his thirties, with raven-black hair and oddly pink eyes. A red scarf adorned his neck, and despite his imposing presence, he bore no visible scars or blemishes, projecting an image of someone who had faced no challenges in life.

As the man stood inches away from the guards, he nonchalantly inquired, "Are you gonna open the gates?" It wasn't a question; the guards felt the weight of impending doom, knowing that failure to open the gates would result in their deaths without question.

The guards immediately seized the sides of the iron gates, pulling them open with a metallic groan that echoed like nails on a chalkboard. "Good dogs, make sure nothing happens to my ride, if you want your lungs intact," the man remarked casually as he strolled through the now-open gates. The guards, in compliance, noticed an emblem on the back of the man's armor, causing their eyes to widen in recognition.

Once the man was out of what they presumed to be earshot, they released a collective breath they hadn't realized they were holding. "That was... that was..." one of the guards stuttered, unable to finish his sentence. The other guard completed his thought, "Yeah, that was him. That was Orian Lorenz, the leader of the Lorenz Company." They shared a silent prayer, thanking whatever forces were out there for allowing them to live after encountering Orian Lorenz, the deadliest man in the entirety of Aetheria.

Meanwhile, Orian strolled through the dilapidated garden of the mansion, taking in the withered nature of the surroundings. Most of the flowers were dead, the fountain in the middle barely squirting out water, and the mansion itself showed signs of wear with peeling paint. "Goddess, this place is a dump," he remarked with a laugh, finding humor in the dismal scenery. Despite the decay, something about it seemed amusing to him, lifting his spirits.

Continuing his stroll, Orian approached the front door of the mansion. Ignoring both the doorknocker and doorbell, he simply turned the unlocked handle, or perhaps it was locked and he didn't notice. The door creaked open, granting him access to the grand foyer. Inside, he encountered a young maid who had been sweeping the floor. Startled, she turned to look at him. "Who are you?" she asked. The maid had no remarkable features other than her youth, as from the looks of it, she was only around thirteen-fourteen years old.

Orian responded with an uncomfortable smile, causing the young maid to clutch the broom in her hand close to her chest. She felt Orian's gaze roaming all over her body, sending a wave of fear through her. "I'm looking for the man you work for. Could you show me where he is?" he asked. The maid, visibly frightened, stammered, "H-he's o-on the second flo-floor. Should I take yo-you there, sir?"

In the blink of an eye, Orian appeared inches away from her, his proximity intensifying her discomfort. "That would be lovely," he said, looming over her. The maid felt something tugging at parts of her body as she nodded, placing the broom by the stairs. "Fo-follow me, then, s-sir," she stammered, ascending the stairs with Orian closely following behind.

Walking through the second floor, following the maid, Orian surveyed the mansion's deteriorating condition. The doors looked worn out, wallpaper peeled in certain areas, the rug beneath his feet showed extensive wear with cuts and tears, and the furniture, accumulating dust, appeared equally worn. The windows, though dirty, were in semi-decent shape, standing out amid the overall neglect.

Abruptly, the maid heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering behind her. Panic-stricken, she turned to witness Orian breaking a window. "There, the windows are more fitting now," he remarked. Turning his attention to the stunned maid, he continued, "Why did you stop? Curious about how these shards feel going down your throat?" Picking up a fragment of broken glass, Orian's gesture caused the maid to vehemently shake her head. "N-no, I do-don't," she stammered.

Orian grinned widely. "Then get a move on," he said calmly, prompting the maid to hasten her pace. As they continued, both heard a voice from down the hallway. "What happened!?" A man in his early twenties with tannish skin, blue eyes, and brown hair, wearing a worn suit, appeared. He looked concerned.

"Master Verandez!" the maid exclaimed before running to him and hiding behind him. "What's wrong, Kit? And who's this?" Verandez asked, pointing at Orian.

"I don't know! He just came in and asked for you!" Kit, the maid, exclaimed, her eyes welling up with tears. In response, Verandez swiftly pulled out a red, glowing stone from his suit, demanding answers from Orian, "Who are you? Answer now!" However, Orian remained silent and instead remarked, "Is that a summoning stone? I've never seen one this close up. What are you waiting for? Use it."

Verandez suddenly felt a wave of fear wash over him. Clicking his tongue, he threw the stone to the ground, where it shattered. A flaming beast emerged, resembling a tiger but twice its size, with wings protruding from its back. The creature was made of blood-red flames that emitted no heat, and it sported pointed horns atop its head—a truly menacing sight. Orian whistled at the spectacle, saying, "That's impressive. Too bad it's going to die, though."

Verandez shot a venomous glare at Orian and promptly commanded the beast to charge. "Mince him! Rip him to shreds!" The creature bounded menacingly towards Orian, who, unfazed, refrained from reaching for the saber by his side. With a powerful swipe, the beast extended its claws in a vicious slash. However, just as the attack reached within 10 inches of Orian, the creature's right paw inexplicably turned into a red mist, filling the air with the scent of blood, leaving Verandez and Kit dumbfounded.

"What the?" Verandez muttered in bewilderment as the beast emitted a howl of pain. The beast then attempted to bite down on Orian, but the same pattern repeated: within the final 10 inches, the creature's head turned into a red mist. The defeated beast crumpled to the ground, gradually fading away.

Orian's laughter echoed through the air as he observed the fading remnants of the defeated creature. His amusement painted a vivid picture. Shifting his attention back to Verandez, who stood with a blend of defiance and fear. "What do you want?" Verandez questioned, delving into his suit for something. However, before he could retrieve it, Orian materialized in front of him, seizing his hand and offering a piece of advice. "Don't waste more of those; they're quite valuable. Now, as for what I seek, it's rather straightforward. I want you to enlist my services, Verandez Rasanto."