Dawn swept across Hero's Haven in golden light, caressing the crystal spire of the Citadel of Light until it gleamed like a heavenly obelisk. At the inn where they stayed, activity had already begun. Arzael stood before a tall mirror, his fingers brushing the collar of the long black turtleneck clinging tightly to his frame. The clothing was simple, yet it exuded an aura of mystery and suppression. No ornaments, no symbols, only a depthless black that seemed to swallow the light around it.
He slowly folded his sleeves, crimson eyes glinting like blood in the mirror's reflection. At his feet, a pair of Ethereal Boots, translucent, existing not wholly in the physical world, gave off a faint glow. Only those boots and the Crimson Necklace dangling from his neck, shimmering with a deep scarlet gleam, were visible. Equipment such as the Soul Ring, Blood Amulet, and Shadow Cloak had been left stored in his inventory. Too conspicuous, too dangerous to flaunt amid tens of thousands.
