Silence hung in the air of the village suspended among the branches of the "World Tree" like a deferred death sentence, everyone anticipating the moment the guillotine would drop. The white magical fog drifted slowly around their feet while Okonnor, the living legend of the Dark Elves, stared at the human youth standing before him. The commander's green eyes darted in their sockets with imperceptible speed, analyzing every word Dex had spoken, ferociously searching for a single logical flaw in this political and geopolitical nightmare he had just recounted regarding the "Shadow Organization" and his uncle Sylvester's betrayal.
Finally, after a silent internal struggle between the warrior's instinct demanding he behead his historical enemy, and the general's mind comprehending the magnitude of the impending catastrophe, Okonnor made his decision. He took a single step back, which was enough to alleviate the suffocating pressure in the area, and gestured with his metal-gauntleted hand in a swift, terse, and decisive movement, like a military command.
In a fraction of a second, and without any spoken incantation, the black arrows formed from dense mana that had surrounded Dex and Lumia vanished. The bars of the terrifying "Frequency Shadow Cage" melted away as if they were threads of black smoke suddenly dispersed by a strong gale, leaving behind a faint odor resembling ozone and stagnant rain. Yet, despite the removal of the immediate magical threat, the atmosphere did not relax. The elite Dark Elf warriors, hanging like bats of death in the giant trees surrounding the platform, remained tense as coiled springs, their hands never leaving their bowstrings or the hilts of their poisoned daggers. They were waiting for just one signal to tear the human youth and the silent girl to pieces.
"Your words... carry a terrifying logic, and as a military commander, I can only admit as much," Okonnor conceded in a rough, deep voice, a voice reflecting long years of wars, massacres, and betrayals that had shaped his consciousness. "If the 'Shadow Organization' is indeed interfering with the command of the Western Army, then we are all standing on the edge of a volcano about to erupt. But cold philosophical logic and political arguments alone, boy, do not forge alliances nor win wars in this cruel world."
Okonnor narrowed his eyes, leaning his face in slightly to loom over Dex with his towering height. "You ask me for the 'Nectar of the World Tree'... the most precious and sacred treasure remaining to my exiled, hunted people. The elixir that carries the pulse of primal life in its drops. You ask for it to save the life of a human general who subjected us to horrors and burned our forests, all based on a mercurial future promise that you, if successful, will protect me from your uncle and that cursed organization?"
Okonnor let out a sarcastic, bitter, and harsh laugh, its echo bouncing like sharp blades among the giant branches and thick fog.
"Look at yourself, by the hells of the abyss!" Okonnor shouted, pointing a finger of disdain at the youth's exhausted body. "You are just a lone boy, cast out by his family like a dog. Your magical rank barely surpasses a novice... you are mere scum at Rank (E)! You wield a broken dagger unfit even for slicing meat, you wear tattered rags, and you are chased by forest beasts we keep as pets. Even if I were to assume I believed your noble intentions, how in the name of all gods, ancient and new, could you possibly be a strategic ally to the Commander of the Dark Elves? What do you actually have to offer me, here and now, on this wooden floor, besides flowery words and convoluted conspiracy theories that neither fatten nor satisfy hunger?"
In that moment, instead of feeling fear or humiliation at the commander belittling him in front of his men, Dex's eyebrows knitted together slightly.
So... my suspicions are entirely confirmed, Dex said inwardly, while his mind worked at the speed of light to analyze the situation.
Dex had realized a stunning and dangerous truth. It seemed that anyone in this world, whether they were great mages or Dark Elves with superhuman senses, who looked at him today firmly believed he was still languishing at the bottom of the power pyramid, at the fragile Rank (E). While in reality, after his bitter suffering and the activation of his unique magical core, he had shattered that barrier and bypassed the limits of novices to reach Rank (D), possessing a destructive capacity that exceeded his actual rank.
It seems the reason for this perfect camouflage is the 'Phoenix Core' itself, Dex thought, analyzing the mana circuits within his body.
He remembered the night the Phoenix fire had swallowed his shattered old core. The last stable rank he held before his violent integration with this mythical core was Rank (E). When the Phoenix energy merged with him, it did not simply add power to his previous core; it devoured it, burned it completely, and was then reborn from the ashes deep within his soul. However, as part of the Phoenix's ashen, secretive nature, the new core retained the "outer shell" of Dex's old mana.
The ashes of Rank (E) formed a phantom outer crust, a camouflage shield surrounding the blazing Rank (D) flames within. Consequently, no matter how much his rank progressed in the future, and no matter how his energy swelled, his external body would continue to emit quiet, feeble vibrational signals to anyone attempting to probe his magical energy, feeding them the old story: "This is just a weak youth at Rank E." No one could pierce this ashen shell unless Dex fully unleashed his divine flames.
Dex smiled inwardly, the smile of a wolf that had just found a flock of blind sheep. He knew that this new variable, this stroke of biological genius, would prove invaluable in his upcoming struggles. In a world where fighters and mages measured each other's strength by sensing magical auras, everyone would consider him merely a harmless insect. His opponents, be they arrogant nobles or beasts of the dark, would always underestimate him due to his ostensibly low rank. They would expose their backs, and they would relax their defenses. But... when they discovered the truth, and felt the flames of his true rank burning their faces, it would be far too late to retreat.
Dex quickly regained his focus, wiping any trace of the smile from his face. He was unshaken by Commander Okonnor's mockery or his attempt to diminish him. He knew from his experiences in the cells of "Black Rock" that showing weakness or brokenness before creatures that prey on fear meant immediate, certain death.