The void.
The Dragon Realm Gate stood still radiating the menace of generational dragons. The crack on its surface did not seem to dim its glory.
A middle aged man stood just before it.
His black hair streaked with gray, tied loosely behind his head. His eyes were half-lidded, calm. One hand gently stroked the air beneath his chin—where a beard might have been, had he ever grown one. He wore a loose-fitting black-and-blue kimono, tied with a single crimson sash. No aura. No threat. Just silence.
His regal form floated in the void as he stared at the gate in deep contemplation.
To the side, standing with quiet obedience, was Zemphin. He was so still it was almost like was dead.
He stood like a disgraced knight beside a new king.
Soon.
Sion stepped out of the crack.
