Rising god

The core of the Treyl family estate unveiled a spectacle of opulence that eclipsed even the grandeur of House Darkan’s main residence. Though smaller in footprint, its sprawling width was adorned with an extravagance that spoke of their wealth.

Immaculately trimmed gardens unfurled in intricate patterns, spiraling vines, geometric hedges, and floral mosaics while paved roads gleamed with a rich ruby hue, their polished surfaces reflecting the dim light of the overcast sky.

The air carried the faint scent of exotic blooms, a stark contrast to the bloodshed that had preceded their arrival.

Baines, Ralph, and the first executive stepped into this lavish domain, their boots crunching on the pristine gravel, only to be met by two formidable groups: fifty warriors clad in resplendent golden armor, their full-body suits etched with arcane runes, and another fifty shrouded in black cloaks that seemed to absorb the light around them.

"I was thinking who it was that released his slave seal, but it was you," the leader of the black-cloaked group said, his voice casual yet laced with a disturbing elation.

His face, partially visible beneath his hood, bore a twisted smile, his eyes glinting with curiosity.

How had he broken free from the slave contract? the man wondered, his mind racing with the implications.

Before he could finish,

Boom!

Baines launched a sudden attack, a surge of blood energy hurtling toward the leader.

"It’s not nice to attack when one is still speaking." The man raised a bare hand, effortlessly blocking the strike without a flinch or scratch, his expression unchanging.