Vaelmont City, Somewhere Unnecessarily Fancy
Zane stood outside Lord Fenric's manor, staring up at the golden gates, magical lights, and a marble statue of the man himself—shirtless, flexing, and winking.
"Who the Void makes a statue of themselves winking?" Zane whispered.
"I think the abs are real," Link said, hovering nearby. "He probably paid someone to sculpt his insecurity into stone."
"I'm about to steal from the pettiest noble in existence," Zane muttered. "Let's go."
He slipped past the guards like a shadow, thanks to his favorite cheat code: being awesome. Also, Phantom Chain illusions helped.
Inside, the manor was throwing a ball—because of course it was. Nobles danced, spell-lights floated like lazy fireflies, and someone was sobbing politely near a fruit table. Zane didn't know why. He didn't ask.
And there, center stage, wearing a smirk and a silk robe that left nothing to the imagination, was Lord Fenric Vael.
He was surrounded by sycophants and dramatically levitated grapes into his mouth as if gravity was beneath him.
On his hand glinted the Whisper Band, sleek and shadowy, pulsing faintly with magical echoes.
"Egotistical. Flashy. Punchable," Zane muttered. "Yeah, this is our guy."
Fenric raised a glass and cast a spell one of his guests had used seconds earlier — mimicking it perfectly. Fireworks burst from the ceiling. Applause followed. Someone fainted.
"He's using the Whisper Band like a party trick," Nyx hissed. "He's disgracing a relic."
"Worse," Zane growled. "He's boring."
He stepped forward, shadows peeling back. Heads turned.
Fenric glanced at him. "You're not wearing lace. Or being useless. Who let you in?"
"I teleported in through your fragile ego," Zane replied, loud enough for the whole hall to hear.
GASP.
Fenric raised an eyebrow. "Do you know who I am?"
"Unfortunately," Zane said. "And I want that ring."
The music screeched to a stop. Nobles backed away like this was the opera and Zane just flipped the script.
Fenric descended from his floating stage. "You want the Whisper Band? I won't part with it unless you impress me."
"Oh no," Link muttered. "Theatrical villain arc activated."
Fenric raised a hand and mimicked a lightning spell someone just used to light a cigar. It surged toward Zane.
Zane dove, rolled, and popped up with a grin. "Wow. A recycled lightning bolt. I'm quaking."
He dashed through the room, creating illusions with the Phantom Chain, each clone mocking Fenric louder than the last.
"Your robe looks like a curtain from my grandmother's bathroom!"
"I bet you enchant your mirror to compliment you!"
"YOU WEAR COLOGNE THAT SMELLS LIKE REGRET!"
Fenric screamed in rage. "Enough!"
He launched spell after spell, hitting clone after clone. The real Zane leapt off a chandelier and drop-kicked him into his own statue.
The head cracked off. Somewhere in the crowd, a noble clapped in awe.
Zane stood over him. "You done? I've got a dinner reservation with destiny."
Fenric groaned, reached into his pocket, and tossed the Whisper Band. "Take it! Just stop talking!"
Zane caught it, sliding it onto his finger.
Suddenly, the world whispered.
He heard nearby murmurs — spells, thoughts, magical incantations just hanging in the air. One noble coughed and muttered a fire incantation for warmth.
Zane grinned. "Let's try this out…"
He repeated it casually — and flames burst from his palm with perfect form.
More gasps.
"Is he a prodigy?"
"Is he single?"
"Is that...my spell?!"
Zane winked at a stunned Fenric. "Thanks for being an awful host. I'll give your statue a better pose next time."
And just like that, he turned and walked away — fire in his step, chaos in his wake, and a shiny new artifact on his hand.
Link cackled in his ear. "You're a walking scandal."
Nyx smirked. "You've made another powerful enemy."
Zane slipped his hands in his pockets. "Cool. Add him to the list."