In front of the Void Archon Castle, each elder from the Northern Primordial Clans stood in solemn formation, accompanied by an unfamiliar member of their clan, except Obsider, whose presence was marked by the familiar figure of Vacuros standing beside him like an unyielding shadow.
"Grandpa." Nyxander called out as he and Zephyrion approached them, his voice cutting through the heavy stillness.
"Oh, you are back." Obsider took a quick walk toward them, relief flickering briefly across his aged face. "How was your visit?" Obsidar asked, gently placing his hands on Nyxander's shoulders, as though confirming his grandson was truly there.
"I met with the Ancestor, and after my conversation with him, I agreed to leave this world." Nyxander brushed through the result of his meeting, his tone calm, almost detached, as if he were recounting a distant memory rather than his own fate. "But to do that I will have to master an additional four..." He was about to complete his words.
