The old man's words droned on, but Nivaan barely listened. He prodded at his ear, impatience written across his face.
What is this old man so worked up about? I just want to go up there, he thought. Should I just kill them all and leave?
A painful cry cut through the crowd. "Please save me, young master!" someone begged.
Nivaan narrowed his eyes and tugged the source of the voice toward him. The villagers watched, rooted to the spot by the pressure of his presence. People could not move; fear had frozen their limbs as Nivaan raised an arm.
A scrawny young man tumbled forward, blood slick across his torn clothes, wounds still fresh. He trembled like a leaf. "Please save me from them. Did my father send you? Are you from the military?" he stammered.
Nivaan let his aura cradle the boy, holding him half a step above the ground. He stood with his arms folded, amused, deciding to play the part for now.
"Good, good to see you're alive, young master," Nivaan said, voice smooth as oil. "I am Arthur (Nivaan). Tell me what happened."
The boy swallowed. "I came without telling my father. Last night our guardian dragon showed me a vision, its lost artifact will appear on the mountain peak. I came to prove myself, but I failed. They caught me. I thought-" His words broke.
"Why would your father send only you?" Nivaan asked, feigning curiosity.
The boy's eyes lit with hope. "He didn't. I-I thought he would know. But please, the artifact appears at the peak. Mystical energies are already forming. It will surface in thirty minutes."
"Then we'll go now," Nivaan said, smiling. He produced a small vial and tossed it to the boy. The healing potion shimmered as it sealed the deeper wounds.
"Thank you, young master Arthur," the boy said, reverent and trembling.
The villagers remained frozen, bodies stiff under Nivaan's pressure while the old man continued his chant. As Nivaan and the boy finished their exchange, the old man's voice faltered. A beam of light cut down from the sky and bathed the village.
At the beam's center stood a wooden idol. The villagers regained movement all at once; the old man crumpled to the ground. With his last breath he whispered, "For the Great Solvaar."
Hundreds of shining insects crawled from his body and swarmed into the villagers. They collapsed, murmuring in unison, "For the Great Solvaar."
A figure descended from the heavens and landed atop the wooden idol. He was two meters tall, every muscle carved like a statue. A sun-shaped tattoo bloomed across his chest.
"I am Ulric," the newcomer boomed. "As candidate of Solvaar the Divine, I shall execute you heretics." His threat fixed on Arthur (Nivaan) and the rescued youth.
Nivaan let the theatrics play. He would hide true strength for the boy's sake, for now. "Bark all you want," he said lightly. "It gives me time to figure out how to make your death interesting."
The young man watched Nivaan in confusion. "Why is he taunting him? That man's magic is stronger than Arthur's…"
Ulric ignored the bait. He crossed his fingers in a strange pattern and intoned, "Domain of Sun."
The earth trembled. The ground split. Rivers of molten rock erupted, swallowing the village in blistering lava. Heat rolled like a physical thing, searing and absolute.
Nivaan rose, levitating as he expanded a protective sphere around the boy. The bubble held, for the child, the flames became a distant roar rather than death.
Arthur (Nivaan) and Ulric closed the distance. Each blow they exchanged sent shockwaves through the boiling terrain; lava leapt and churned, clouds above tearing as their power collided.
Ulric laughed, wild and cruel. "Who are you? You're not a candidate of Solvaar. Hahaha, this will be your end."
Nivaan smiled, bored. "Why does a man about to die want to know my name?"
They traded strike for strike. After twenty impacts, Ulric's laughter turned into confusion. His skin smoldered; heat licked through him in a way that didn't make sense. "What is happening? My body, this heat how can I melt? I am a candidate of Solvaar!" he gasped.
The light beam vanished. The wooden idol shattered. The protective bubble whisked the young man to safety in a nearby cave.
Out of sight, Nivaan's indifference evaporated into precision. He sneered. "Even children fight better than you. I'm bored."
He pointed once. A laser singed through Ulric's chest as if a needle found a seam in a statue. Ulric crumpled, stunned, life slipping.
A system of text appeared, cold and factual before Nivaan's eyes:
[YOU HAVE DEFEATED A CANDIDATE OF SOLVAAR]
[AUTHORITY OF STEALTH HAS PROTECTED YOU FROM GETTING IDENTIFIED BY SOLVAAR]
[SOLVAAR WILL NOTICE THE DEATH OF HIS CANDIDATE AFTER ONE MONTH]
[YOU HAVE RECEIVED PHYSIQUE OF SUN]
[ABSORBING PHYSIQUE OF SUN INTO ARTHUR (NIVAAN)'S BODY AND SOUL]
[ARTHUR (NIVAAN) WILL NOT BECOME A CANDIDATE EVEN WITH THE PHYSIQUE OF SUN]
Nivaan smirked. "What a neat haul."
Footsteps approached. "Young master Arthur! ARTHUR!" the boy called, voice cracking.
To keep the ruse, Nivaan carved a shallow burn along his arm, a convincing, bloody smear. When the boy reached the fallen Ulric, he saw Nivaan standing with the hurt arm and the dead man on the ground.
"Did you kill him, Young master Arthur?" the boy asked, eyes wide.
"I barely defeated him. He was caught off-guard," Nivaan said, feigning exhaustion.
Tears fell down the boy's cheeks. "I'm sorry for your arm. It's my fault for coming."
Nivaan's face softened for an instant, polite, performative. "It's nothing. Your father told me to help you."
Inside, he thought, If you stop now, I'll kill you myself. The thought slid through him like a blade. He pushed the feeling down and stepped toward the artifact's location, the glow on his skin dulling as he masked the theft of a life with a hero's lie.