He stood at the entrance, his arms relaxed by his sides and a slightly amused expression on his face. He had a few dirt stains, but other than that, he seemed completely unharmed.
The contrast between the seriousness of the previous conversation and the casual manner in which he appeared was so abrupt that the three of them froze for a moment.
Elara was the first to react, letting out a nervous laugh mixed with relief.
— You… are okay! — she said, taking a few steps toward the young man, smiling, though her eyes assessed his condition. — We were about to organize a rescue team. We thought you had… — she hesitated, laughing softly. — …gotten lost or hurt out there.
Galdor, the other member of the group, kept his expression rigid. Relief was evident, but a sarcastic tone escaped him.
— I thought you had gotten into trouble. — He uncrossed his arms and approached. — Honestly, we were already discussing your end… or rather: your heroic rescue.
Despite the playful tone, there was perceptible concern in his voice.
Lysandra, the third figure, had been watching in silence until then. She took a step forward, her eyes locked on the newcomer, trying to decipher the mystery that had caused such a commotion. He seemed too calm for someone who had supposedly faced a ruin alone.
— So you are the Aslam everyone talks about… — she said, her voice firm and evaluative. — Tell me: is it true that you cleared the Ruins of Tirath alone?
The young man faced her with a smile that oscillated between relaxed and enigmatic. The skepticism in Lysandra's gaze was clear, as were the curiosity and the posture of leadership she exuded.
— Well… about that… — he began, raising his hands slightly in an appeasing gesture. — Actually, I didn't even go in.
Surprise was stamped on Elara and Galdor's faces, while Lysandra maintained a neutral expression—though her eyes narrowed slightly.
— What? — Elara asked, confused. — But… how come?
He shrugged, as if it were insignificant.
— I was going, but I heard rumors that someone had already done the job. I thought it best not to waste time and came back.
Galdor frowned, trying to understand.
— So… you didn't even enter? — he asked, still struggling to absorb it.
The young man nodded, serene.
— That's right. I didn't even need to make an effort. Whatever happened inside, it wasn't me.
The silence that followed was loaded with uncertainty. Elara and Galdor exchanged glances, clearly trying to decide if he was telling the truth or if there was something behind that answer. But they didn't insist; at that moment, it was the only "possible" explanation.
Lysandra, however, continued watching, evaluating every detail of his behavior.
"He is lying," she thought, but didn't say it aloud.
The way he walked in, calm and confident, didn't match someone who would give up on a mission just because of rumors.
— So… — Lysandra finally broke the silence, cold yet polite. — You didn't even reach the entrance? Just to confirm?
A discreet smile appeared on his lips, but his gaze remained indecipherable.
— Exactly.
There was something in the lightness with which he said it that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. Lysandra continued to observe him in silence, her instinct saying that this young man was far from common and was likely lying. But why?
— Well… — she said at last — it seems we avoided an unnecessary mission.
While the three laughed, Lysandra's gaze did not leave Aslam. Elara and Galdor seemed convinced, but within her, there was an uneasy feeling: his tranquility did not match the reaction of someone who had been close to danger.
— Aslam, right? — she began, her voice lower but loaded with authority.
He nodded, the smile still faint.
— I want to talk to you. Elsewhere. Something more… private. — The tone was direct, leaving no room for refusal.
Galdor took a step forward, hesitant.
— Leader… he just came back. I don't know if…
Lysandra cut him off with a sharp look, interrupting him before he finished. She turned back to Aslam, studying him closely.
Elara and Galdor fell silent, visibly uncomfortable, but without the courage to insist. The respect they had for Lysandra was deep—though that didn't diminish the apprehension of seeing their friend being taken for a private conversation by such an inflexible leader.
He, on the other hand, maintained a relaxed and serene expression; he was curious to better understand this woman.
— Sure. Let's talk. — His voice came out calm… almost provocative.
Lysandra nodded slightly and turned, heading down a more isolated corridor of the guild without looking back. Aslam followed her, while Elara and Galdor watched, worried, not knowing what would happen in that conversation… but certain that nothing would be simple when Lysandra was involved.
As they walked, the noise of the main guild hall faded into the distance. The corridors were dimly lit, with flickering magical torches casting shadows on the walls. Lysandra moved with quick steps; her long strides forced Aslam to maintain a brisk pace.
Finally, they reached a door at the end of the hall, which she pushed open with a smooth movement. The room was simple but elegant, with a large wooden table in the center. Behind the table was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, crammed with leather-bound tomes. The air was thick with the smell of old parchment and a faint touch of lavender.
Lysandra walked behind the table and gestured for Aslam to sit across from her. He obeyed with fluid, tranquil movements.
— So — she began, her voice firm but controlled. — I must admit: your story intrigues me. Most people wouldn't have returned from the Ruins of Tirath with such ease.
He leaned back in the chair, not taking his eyes off her.
— As I said: I heard they had already solved it. There was no reason to waste my time.
Lysandra's gaze narrowed, analyzing every nuance of his expression.
— You are either very cautious… or very confident. I don't know which yet.
He gave a low, soft laugh.
— Maybe a little of both.
Silence took the room, broken only by the slight creaking of wood. Lysandra kept her eyes fixed on him, her expression impossible to read. She leaned forward, her voice lowering almost to a whisper.
— You know… — she said — I have waited a long time for someone like you to appear.
Before Aslam could respond, the air changed subtly. The flickering light of the torches seemed to weaken, and the shadows around them lengthened and darkened. He felt a chill on the back of his neck—a discomfort that ran down his spine. The room became colder, the air heavier, almost thick.
Without saying anything, Lysandra raised her hand. A faint glow appeared at her fingertips, growing and intensifying with every second. The air crackled with invisible energy, and Aslam felt the pressure increase, compressing him, as if the environment were trying to suffocate him.
For a moment, he faltered, gasping as if he had been thrown into the depths of the ocean. He fought to maintain control, gripping the arms of the chair to steady himself. He hadn't encountered such raw power since he returned.
"She is at the peak of the Expansion Ring... I can feel it," he managed to say, with difficulty.
He sensed the magic swirling around.
— You are lying — Lysandra said, her voice calm and steady, but with eyes burning with intensity.
She unleashed a torrent of energy—a wave of pure magic that slammed against him like a colossal tide. Aslam braced himself, resisting with every ounce of strength. He pulled on his reserves, forcing his mind to focus. He imagined a shield of pure energy, deflecting the impact.
But Lysandra's power was relentless: an infinite flow of magic that threatened to tear him apart.
After observing the young adventurer's face and body, she realized she wouldn't be able to force anything out of him. Her strength began to diminish; the torrent receded as suddenly as it had surged. She stared at Aslam, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
When the energy dissipated, Aslam let out a long sigh, his chest rising and falling with effort. He gazed at Lysandra with admiration and curiosity.
— Impressive — he said, with sincerity in his voice. — I must admit: I am genuinely impressed.
Her eyes narrowed, her expression still indecipherable.
— Who are you? — she asked firmly, but with a touch of curiosity.
Aslam's smile grew, and he leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers.
— I think the time has come — he said, his voice low and mysterious. — You see… I am not just any sorcerer—
He paused, watching Lysandra's reaction. Her eyes shone with expectation; her brow furrowed in concentration.
— I am the First Sorcerer of Humanity — he continued with conviction. — The creator of human magic.
Lysandra's expression froze. She stared at Aslam as if he were joking or insane.
— You expect me to believe that? — she asked, her voice loaded with skepticism. — That you are the origin of human magic?
Aslam's smile widened. He leaned back in the chair, without looking away.
— I am not asking you to believe — he said, calm and confident. — I am just stating the truth.
Lysandra examined his face, looking for any sign of a lie. But all she saw was a calm serenity—as if he truly believed what he was saying.
He, in turn, analyzed her reaction, studying every minute gesture. He noticed the curious glint in her eyes, the forehead wrinkled in concentration. He saw the beauty of her features: the firm line of her jaw, the golden eyes that pierced through. And he couldn't help a silent admiration for this powerful and intelligent woman.
After this brief moment, she decided it was enough and let him leave.