The Dark Gathering [Pt 1]

Darkness seeped through the cracks of the night.

It deepened, like ink spreading on paper, until the entire city was engulfed in it.

And so, once blackness reigned true… the Dark Gathering could begin in full.

A massive hall, separated from the world thanks to a barrier that rendered it both invisible and impenetrable, served as the venue.

It had no windows, yet due to Magic, the entire place was so cool that one's breath could nearly be seen just by breathing.

The walls were eerily black—same as the tiled ground.

Fortunately, there were purple carpets strewn all about, and the great neon-like chandelier rained down a wonderful gem-like ambiance upon the whole room.

The entire building belonged to none other than Scylla, and since that was where the Dark Gathering was unanimously agreed to be held, all members had no choice but to comply.

Hence, the members of this union began to trickle in.

Lord Bleue, with his lanky appearance and dark skin, walked in with his two bodyguards—the Duo of Death.

As for Lord Rouge, his flabby body was closely guarded by two other guards, each one a respectable member of the Mercenary Gang's most Elite Unit.

Lord Noir, who had apparently been the first to arrive, was already seated by the time these two arrived almost at the same minute.

They watched him sipping tea behind the round table that stood at the center of the room.

He was guarded by one of the Deadly Three, as well as another most Elite guard from his own private forces.

The Deadly Three member was none other than the Warrior of Darkness—Obsidian Blade: Ladon.

It was said that his skill in combat was unmatched, except by Fenrir, and his incredible armor was practically impenetrable.

He served as both a striker and a tank, making him the perfect offensive and defensive individual.

—The perfect warrior.

Lord Noir was seated beside the empty and grandest seat of all, which belonged to Scylla—of course.

On the left of the seat was a position occupied by none other than the Mercenary Gang Leader, Fenrir—The White Wolf.

Behind him was the Black Magician—the last member of the Deadly Three.

Everyone in the room already knew what happened to Anukus, The Destroyer, but the surviving two were standing representations of the epitome of the Mercenary Gang.

If any were to ask for the superior one, it would be difficult to answer.

The Obsidian Blade was much faster and combat adept, and his prowess made him difficult to deal with. However, the Dark Magician had Spells that bypassed the former's defenses, hence giving him an edge in their fight.

As a result, it was still a debated issue to date; who was the more superior one.

However, the topic that was already settled in the minds of all was the person who could be deemed the strongest in the Mercenary Gang.

That title undeniably belonged to Fenrir.

While rumors had passed that each of the Heads of Destruction of the Mercenary Gang had slayed Dragons, only Fenrir's case had been confirmed.

After all, the very armor that the Obsidian Blade wore belonged to the very Dragon he killed. The staff of the Dark Magician was also the same.

Fenrir also seemed to be wearing his own custom item that he obtained as a spoil from the Dragon.

It was the Totem of Chaos, and it wrapped around his bulky neck like a charmed necklace.

With all of these individuals seated, a clacking footstep began to echo within the dark hall.

Scylla's high-heel shoes made coordinated noise, like a symphony that signaled something eerie, as she stepped into the room as if from thin air.

Everyone instantly turned in her direction, and they noticed Scylla in a pure black gown. Her blond hair swayed marvelously as her makeup amplified her beauty and caused her reddened lips to appear even more succulent.

Lady Scylla was just breathtaking.

Still, while it was easy to be amazed by the beauty that had just appeared, the masked guard that walked behind her made it difficult to do so.

He had a strong, imposing presence that made sure everyone was on their toes.

No one could hear his footsteps, but they could feel the increasing risk to their lives the closer he drew to their midst.

Until finally—

"Greetings, friends!" Scylla beamed.

—The Lady took her seat in the most glamorous of positions.

There were a total of seven seats, and hers was at the very head; a perfect representation of the power she currently wielded.

Her left side was occupied first by Fenrir, and then Bleue who sat beside him. Her right side had Noir, and then Rouge.

The last two seats remained unoccupied, but everyone knew who they were for.

"It seems like our dear friends are going to be late to the event." Scylla's voice seemed to contain regret, though her wicked smile showed the opposite.

Without the two whom they were expecting, the Dark Gathering wouldn't really hold any significance, so she genuinely wanted them to show up.

However, them being late—or not showing at all—wasn't actually a bad thing.

It would just be a waste is all…

"Well, we can't keep waiting for them. The doors shall now be closed."

The massive gates that led to the room soon began to close shut. This was the very entrance that every single member had used to get into the Dark Gathering, so without it being open, getting in would be… very difficult.

Needless to say, shutting it tight would essentially block off any latecomers.

As soon as the two doors shut tight, Scylla intertwined her fingers and rested her hand on the table.

"Now then, let us begi—"

Almost as soon as Scylla's words echoed in the vast hall, a loud creak echoed in the furthest corner of the room.

Everyone instantly looked in the direction of the loud noise, only to find the very same massive double doors being opened by a figure in a dark robe.

Behind him was yet another dark figure, and then the two final participants of the Dark Gathering.

"It seems we arrived a little late." The deep voice of a man echoed from their position as the two dignitaries walked in.

"However, we are here now."