Vajen Omon

Vajen Omon, a proud cultivator who had delved deep into the mysteries of frost and fire, strode confidently through the forest, flanked by his two loyal disciples. The lush greenery enveloped them as they made their way, their steps purposeful and sure. Suddenly, they came upon a lone male elf, his blonde hair shimmering in the dappled sunlight, and his purple eyes gleaming with an otherworldly intensity, blocking their path.

Vajen's grin widened at the sight. "Well, well, what do we have here?" he remarked, his voice laced with amusement. "A lone elf daring to stand in our way? Have the elves grown so feeble that they send only one to challenge us?"

The elf stood tall, his demeanor calm yet resolute. "I am Ivan Montano, and I have claimed this forest," he declared, his voice carrying an air of authority. "You may not pass through here, cultivator. This land is under the protection of the elves."

Weird. It was overly weird. Last time Vajen checked, all of the males of this particular elven tribe had joined the war at the Gray-Raven Keep and even the Three Elven Gifted of this tribe all joined that war in hopes of fighting slavery.

This was a perfect opportunity for Vajen to claim the elves for himself. Surely, the elves would need protection, and he could offer it best… The goblins far south weren't so accommodating, and the Greed God of the Outlaw City from the desert up north was worse.

Vajen had ambitions. As the founding Sect Leader of the Frost Fire Fist, he had a vision of becoming a military powerhouse that would leave its name in the history of the Hiram Continent.

It was common knowledge that elves have a high turnover for awakening gifts, meaning if he could take over them, he would have higher chances to increase his cultivators. Imparting the Temperature Control was not so difficult for Vajen as long as he could subdue the elves.

Unfortunately, a foolish number of his outer disciples had messed with the elves a few days ago and had the gall to violate their women, thus destroying any opportunity for Vajen to a diplomatic approach.

Vajen chuckled, his confidence was unshaken. "Claimed or not, you cannot stop us," he retorted, his tone dripping with arrogance. "We have power beyond your wildest imagination. Move aside, elf, or face the consequences."

The elf's eyes narrowed, his resolve hardening. "I will not yield," he stated firmly, his gaze unwavering. "You may have strength in numbers and maybe you are proud of your power, but you are outmatched."

With a wave of his hand, Vajen signaled to his followers, a silent command passing between them. "So be it," he replied coolly. "If you insist on standing in our way, then we shall see just how powerful this forest truly is."

Vajen's followers drew their steel, their movements fluid and practiced. But instead of rushing forward to deal with the pretentious elf, they proceeded to slit their own throats. Shock rippled through the forest as crimson blood spilled onto the dirt and grass, staining the earth with a macabre display. Vajen maintained a poker face, his expression unreadable, though his two disciples flanking him were clearly taken aback by the gruesome sight.

"What madness is this?" one of the disciples gasped, her voice trembling with disbelief.

The other was similarly appalled, "They… they killed themselves."

The two had been twins and possessed a shared empathic conduit that amplified their abilities, but at the same time— amplified their emotions. It would have been normally a good thing, but not right now as the fear in their hearts was exponentially magnified at the sight before them.

Vajen remained composed, as his mind raced to comprehend the unexpected turn of events. "A sacrifice," he replied calmly, though a hint of uncertainty lingered beneath his words. "A necessary sacrifice for the greater good. Get him!"

With powers over flames and frost, Vajen froze and superheated himself achieving heightened speeds. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared before the elf. "Die!" Vajen conjured a sword made of ice in both hands and slashed.

Seeing their Sect Leader act, the twins also made their move. The fire-wielding Anny rose through the air with flames on her toes, she flew and once she had achieved the altitude she liked, she hurled a series of fireballs at the elf. The flames wouldn't even hurt Vajen so she unleashed her flames with abandon.

Meanwhile, Jenny strategically summoned spears of ice and angled them in a way that the elf wouldn't be able to dodge. If the elf attempted to do so, he would be immediately encumbered by the ice, and Vajen would be able to finish him with the help of Anny.

Unfortunately, all of their efforts were futile.

The elf grabbed the swords of ice and crushed them between his fingers.

And then the elf… lunged, grabbing at Vajen's throat.

"Know despair, and it shall punish you," said the elf.

Vajen's eyes widened in shock as the elf's grip tightened around his throat, lifting him effortlessly from the ground. The once serene face of Ivan Montano contorted into something grotesque—a skull with swirling purple orbs for eyes, with his skeletal frame shrouded in ebony robes that billowed in the forest breeze.

The rain of fireballs hurled by Anny seemed to fizzle out as they approached, diverted by an invisible barrier that surrounded Vajen and the elf. Vajen struggled against the elf's iron grip, his face contorted with both surprise and fear.

Jenny's strategic ice spears were similarly ineffective, shattering into small splinters upon impact with the elf's dark purplish aura. No, this wasn't an elf.

Vajen had heard stories, and legends about the underworld numerously referred to in religious texts and academic pursuits. The being in front of him was an Undead, yet something more. Vajen had seen Undead, and they never exactly had roused so much fear in him as now.

"This... this is impossible," Vajen gasped, his voice strained as he tried to break free from the elf's grasp. "What manner of sorcery is this? Undead! How did you become this strong!? This is impossible!"

Did the elf have secret manuals for Necromancy that the rest of the continent didn't know? What exactly was happening!? Vajen felt that his thoughts were being exposed to the Undead before him.

"Make no mistake, I am not Undead," The strange creature's voice echoed with a chilling resonance, devoid of any emotion. Though the creature had neither mouth nor lips, he could speak so eloquently with the only difference that he could speak directly to the mind. "I am the Undoer," the creature intoned, his grip tightening further. "And I am going to be your Undoing!

Desperation flickered in Vajen's eyes as he struggled to conjure any semblance of his frost and fire abilities, but they seemed feeble and useless against the overwhelming force of the elf before him.

Vajen felt his life force boiling, every cell in his body was burning, it was as if he had returned to being a mortal and was very sick with a dangerously high fever… And... He could feel his fever literally burning him inside and outside.

With a final gasp, Vajen's vision dimmed as the life drained from his body, his once-grand ambitions were reduced to a plea for mercy as the pain ate away at his reason. "Please… kill me…" He begged. "Please…"

But his plea was never heard as his throat had become too sore, dry, and burnt to the point he could almost taste his tongue. Vajen Omon self-immolated.