In a mysterious space suspended above a purple and black fog, the air began circulating and convulsing irritably.
A fine slither of darkness emerged, floating statically. It was no longer than the height of a person. Cracks began forming across the slither, slowly breaking the air itself.
Thunderous roars emanated from the foreign area, causing it to quake vehemently. As blasts and radiating aura overwhelmed the fog that shrouded this space, the fine slither of black detached into an oval opening.
Destructive footsteps dawned just outside of the enigmatic gate.
Behedet the Mourner advanced the tear with a dignified depiction. His pitch-black hair fluttered in the wind that rapidly spun the domain.
Donning the same dark robe with a white diagonal strip, his lifeless gray eyes darted as he surveyed the surroundings around him.
The 5th level to the Unseen Palace. A deadpan acknowledgement surfaced in his mind as the 4th Mourner to the Phantom examined the vicinity.
It was the size of a smaller city, spanning countless kilometers. The dark mist rendered visitors the ability to only see a couple of feet in front of them.
This was no problem for Behedet, who squinted his eyes. Once opened, they revealed a faint white hue that lit up his face.
As he turned swiftly, analyzing the space with pin-point precision, Behedet's expression turned grim. The table.
Calling it just a 'table' was an understatement to say the least. The astronomically long black mottled table defied the laws of man-made creation.
10 lavish chairs contrasted the table perfectly, creating a sense of purpose and urgency. Behedet dispelled some of the hazy fog and made his way to the table.
As he progressed, an articulation echoed in his right ear. Glancing that way, Behedet was met with an exact replica of the table he had witnessed just moments ago.
Since the last time I have arrived here, it looks like 'He' has taken on the role of a jester. Scoffing, Behedet reached toward his back and drew the bow and arrow.
As he did, more and more duplications of the mottled table materialized all around the mysterious place.
They did not come with sound, no. It was an eerie silence as they formulated, one so gut-wrenching it would terrorize a civilian.
Sighing, Behedet aimed his arrow at the original table he saw and uttered, "Icas. Enough of your games."
The fog dispelled completely.
What was previously hidden behind the hazy, dark mist, was now revealed to Behedet, who couldn't help but clutch his bow.
Icas sat on the largest seat in the original mottled table that Behedet first witnessed. This time, unlike the meeting with the 12 robed men, Icas' face was exposed.
Thick white hair rested atop his head, covering bits of his pale large forehead. His cheekbones were toned and had a sense of feminine beauty. Hazel green eyes focused in on Behedet, who couldn't help but stagger and withdraw his weapon at the gaze of Icas.
"Haha! You got me~" Raising both his hands in an act of surrender, Icas giggled softly. He then rested both feet on top of the table, crossing them over. His white boots latched on to his pants nicely, showing the figure out his legs.
The replicas that once filled the vicinity had vanished, and the area shrank in size. Patting the seat next to him, Icas motioned Behedet to sit, "The meeting's about to start!"
"I dislike it when you order me around. I only respond to the Phantom and the three Mourner's ahead of me." Behedet flouted in annoyance.
Icas yawned, disregarding Behedet's remark. Donning a white shorter robe, Icas rubbed the emblem that lay directly above his heart. It was not visible to anyone else, covered by a hazy blur even Behedet could not look past.
"I never would expect Betty to come to the meeting first." Icas pointed a finger at Behedet, who's veins bulged hearing the insolent nickname.
Advancing toward the table, Behedet spat back. "Address me with respect, follower of Caesar. I am not one of your jester comrades."
Icas' expression abruptly changed as he warped directly in front of Behedet. Despite their height difference, Icas still managed to inflict fear into the eyes of the man looming over him.
In a split second, Icas reached a hand out and forcefully seized Behedet's neck. With a stern motion, he pulled him to the ground, forcing him to stagger on one knee.
With a cold, malicious tone, Icas whispered in Behedet's sweating ear, "Watch your tone, Betty. Did you forget the hierarchy?"
The statement slithered through Behedet's ear canal and registered in his brain, causing him to close his eyes and meekly whisper, "I apologize."
It wasn't as if Icas could take down Behedet easily, no. Their fight would be prolonged and close. It was just the resources and figures tied to Icas that made Behedet stand down.
Cupping Behedet's chin, Icas pursed his lips and swayed, "I'm glad you understand!" Turning his head, he said, "The meeting is almost about to start! Let's get to the table."
Icas took initiative and warped both him and Behedet to the table, where they situated according to influence.
Icas sat in the largest chair on the end, overseeing everything else. Behedet sat directly beside him, to the left, meaning he was the third most influential member of the gathering that was about to take place.
Behind them, the sounds of cracking skies and thunderous blasts echoed in the space. Icas leaned back and exclaimed,
"They're here!"