The Enigmas

A sea of people stretched in an unbroken line, their anxious murmurs blending into a restless hum as they awaited their turn to enter the dimensional portal of Ellsmere. This was no ordinary gateway; it was one of the Empire's most vital conduits, linking distant cities through ancient arcane mechanisms. Today, however, the crowd was larger than usual. The recent chaos had shaken Ellsmere to its core, and many were no longer willing to linger on the Empire's perilous outskirts. The portal, a towering nexus of swirling blue energy, stood as their beacon of escape, promising safety and new beginnings far from the turmoil that had engulfed their home.

The Empire boasted several such portals, each bound to specific locations, serving as vital arteries that connected its sprawling dominion. However, in the capital, access was strictly restricted. Only Thrones—the elite warriors of the Empire—were permitted the privilege of teleportation. Commoners and even lesser nobles were forced to travel by physical means, navigating roads known only to a select few.

Amidst the sea of desperate travelers, a lone figure stood apart. Cloaked in deep, shadowy fabric, he exuded an air of quiet authority. He waited patiently, his presence unnoticed by most, save for the sharp-eyed guards stationed at the portal's entrance. As he stepped forward, two guards intercepted him.

"State your name and purpose," one barked, their hands resting on the pommels of their swords.

The figure reached into his cloak and produced a small insignia—a royal emblem glinting with golden filigree. The guards stiffened immediately, recognizing the symbol. Without another word, they stepped aside, allowing him swift passage. He nodded once in acknowledgment before stepping through the portal.

The arcane energies coiled around him, folding space itself as the world momentarily vanished in a cascade of shimmering light. Then, just as abruptly, he arrived at his destination—the illustrious city of Revlon.

Towering spires and grand architecture stretched as far as the eye could see, the city a breathtaking masterpiece of artistry and power. Streets of polished stone gleamed under the light of floating orbs, illuminating bustling marketplaces and regal avenues. The very air was thick with magic, a constant undercurrent humming beneath the surface of daily life.

Orion barely spared the splendor a glance. To him, Revlon was merely another stop on a path paved with uncertainty. What awaited him here, however, would set in motion events that would shake the Empire to its core.

---

Orion's destination was no palace or academy, but the underbelly of Revlon, a place where whispers carried more weight than gold. The city harbored countless secrets, but none as formidable as those held by the Dark Continental—the most elusive and dangerous underworld organization known to man. Their reach extended beyond the Empire, woven deep into the fabric of all human kingdoms.

According to the records of the secret order, the last known member of the Zeral family had been spotted at an auction hosted by the Dark Continental. The name alone carried an air of dread; speaking it aloud within the Empire was akin to inviting death. The Zerals were a bloodline of secrecy, once one of the five pillar families of Mighty Empire, now nathing then a forgotten name steeped in shadow and peril.

Orion's knowledge of them was fragmentary at best. Their sudden fall had fueled endless speculation.

The order's records pointed him to a singular lead—a broker, one of the few known conduits to the Dark Continental. This individual could grant Orion access to the elusive auction and, with it, the chance to uncover the truth.

But there was another mystery at play, one that gnawed at the edges of his mind.

---

Dimensional portals. Seers. The Enigmas.

These elements were intertwined in ways he had yet to comprehend. It had only been recently, in his relentless pursuit of knowledge, that Orion had encountered references to divination—an ancient practice shrouded in myth. Yet, in the reports of secret order, it was stated that the order's most revered seer had glimpsed something crucial in a vision: the last member of Zeral family and the artifact they carried.

Divination. The very concept unsettled him. Manipulating space for teleportation was one thing; peering through the veil of time itself was another.

The more he researched, the clearer the connection became. The Enigmas—individuals born with rare, unparalleled abilities—were the key.

Unlike traditional mages, Enigmas lacked an affinity for elemental magic. Instead, they wielded powers unique to their very being. These abilities could not be learned, only inherited by fate. There were two types: dimensional mages, who shaped space itself, and seers, who could glimpse through the past, present, and future.

Orion had always resented his grandfather for his cryptic prophecies, but now, he understood. The power of divination was real, a force beyond comprehension. Seers did not merely foresee events; they navigated time itself, pulling truths from its endless currents.

The origin of the Enigmas was a mystery that eluded even the Empire's greatest scholars. Some claimed they were touched by the gods, their abilities a divine gift. Others believed them to be the result of a force beyond mortal understanding.

But the most unsettling revelation? They required no mana.

Unlike other magic users, whose power depended on the lifeblood of arcane energy, an Enigma's strength was fueled by sheer will and mental fortitude. Those who dared push their limits paid the price, their minds unraveling into madness.

Orion had encountered something eerily similar before. Lisa's pendant—the artifact he now carried—had displayed properties that defied logic. It had saved him once, but could it do so again? Was it tied to the same enigmatic forces he was only now beginning to comprehend?

His battle with the undead wyvern had been a lesson in humility. Making him realize he was the inly one special. There were forces at play far beyond his understanding, and the path ahead would demand more than strength alone.

---

While Orion departed for the heart of Revlon, another figure moved through the streets of Ellsmere.

A woman, striking in appearance, made her inquiries with calculated precision. Her deep blue hair cascaded in elegant waves, framing sharp eyes that matched the color of the ocean. She moved like a specter, gathering information with a quiet authority that left no room for deception.

By day's end, she found herself standing before the lone survivor of the tavern attack—Hunter Brian Goldsman. A silver-core mage, once proud, now broken. His blond hair was matted, his shoulders slumped with the weight of failure. His eyes, haunted by loss, flickered with brief curiosity at the sight of her.

"Did you notice anything unusual before the tavern was destroyed?" she asked, her voice smooth but firm.

Brian exhaled shakily. "The invasion of wyverns is strange enough," he muttered. "I wanted to help, but it was a wyvern. Who can fight against such a beast? My companions... they all died. I barely survived myself. And as a price, now I can't use magic anymore."

Her expression remained unreadable. "Did you see anyone unusual? Someone new in town?"

He hesitated. "Two people in black masks. They left when they sensed the guards watching them."

"I know about them," she said, unfazed. "They're suspects. But there were many witnesses to their presence. I'm asking about someone else. You were a silver-core mage. Maybe, You would have noticed details others missed."

She poured wine into his cup, offering him a silent bribe to loosen his tongue.

Brian frowned, then his eyes widened slightly. "Now that you mention it... there was someone. A boy with crimson red hair."

The woman's lips curved into a faint smile. "Now we are talking."