The Red Conquest

Meeting The Blue Dragon Sage

Temple dust clung to the edges of their robes like a lingering fog. The desert wind, which had been pulverizing everything since morning, clung to the fabric, settling in the folds of leather and buckles. At the temple entrance stood a group that looked like a collection of unfinished stories: men in tattered robes, rusted swords, and eyes dimmed by experience.

In the center of the group, Kael Redbound looked like a broken shadow, resculpted by war.His hair was fiery red, disheveled, like the fibers of an unquenched fire; he had no easy-to-read smile, but a sharp, cold look. His blue eyes, more like icy gleams than flames, defined every relief and grain of stone at the temple's entrance. His chest and blanket were bare—his skin glistened with a dry sheen of sweat and dust, the cracks of scars faint like old maps marking victory and defeat. Tattered chains hung from his waist, and thick gauntlets covered the palms of his sword-wielding hands. He was no flaming hero; It's an ember that holds a flame—ready to explode when touched for the right reason.

Among the group, there's Alfred Ahzab, the mercenieries leader, raised a hand to block the doorway. His face, lined with experience, reflected unquestionable authority; there was no reason he hadn't earned the position. He pulled out a thick scroll of maps and a stone compass, spreading them out on the flat stone before them. The members gathered, whispering softly like birds awaiting a storm."This temple is not for the faint of heart," Alfred said, his voice deep and calculating. "There are traps, mechanisms, and ancient magic. It's said to have a guardian... not just any guardian. A Blue Dragon Sage—the avenging spirit of a blue dragon. The Blue Dragons was a companions of Evil Black Dragon, Malzakar. But they betray him and join on mortal side." The hands holding their weapons clenched slightly. The mighty names made their hairs stand on end, not out of superstition, but because of the history that took the form of a real threat. The desert's underbelly isn't kind to those who forget to calculate their risks.

Amidst the conversation, from a supposedly quiet corner, a soft snore emerged. Alfred turned his head, his eyebrows raised. Kael, standing to his right, seemed half-loose, supposedly watching, but his body betrayed a too-relaxed composure: his chin rested on his chest, his eyes almost closed.

"Kael." Alfred's voice was a whisper, but it carried a bite.

"Are you asleep?" Kael stretched, taking a deep breath like someone waking from a long dream.

"No. Just... counting steps," he said, his voice flat but reassuring.

"The temple is nothing new there. I've been through tales, conversations, and underground passages more dangerous than a toilet carrier. Don't worry, Alfred. I know what I'm doing."

A few of the group members burst into laughter. They indeed felt lucky to have Kael; many holes could be filled with his skilled hands. But Alfred wasn't taking it lightly.

"Don't be arrogant," Alfred sighed.

"Arrogance is a shortcut to unexpected stretches of the body."

Kael smiled faintly, his smile barely reaching his eyes. He said "I'm not arrogant. I'm realistic."

"Realist—ah. Forget it" Alfred shrugged.

"This temple is filled with spirits of blue dragons. If there are spirits, they probably don't like a gang of troublemakers like us."

There was a sigh. Alfred's words cast shadows in every crack in the brick. Alfred put down the map, rechecking the ingredients for the familiar traps; Ian held the pole, a look of doubt on his face.

"Why are you so sure?" Ian asked, looking at Kael as he brushed back his tangled hair, "

"That you're worthy of being a guide? We need someone who can read this."