“Why do you always take so long in the bath?” Lucy asked, rubbing her stomach which was full of meat and potatoes.

Adam sighed as he sipped his milk, relaxing within the Adventurer’s Guild, surrounding the noisiness of the adventurers. “There’s nothing like a nice, long, hot bath after a week of travel.”

The group had managed to arrive peacefully to Red Oak, even while walking past the boundaries between the two forests. The Guards had been surprised to see so many Iyrmen, but had welcome them in eagerly.

“We’ll leave around noon,” Adam said, patting his own stomach. “I want to go to the market and buy some stuff before we leave.”

“Why?” Jaygak asked.

“I want to buy gifts for the children.” Even after spending a week away, Adam couldn’t help but think about Lanarot and the others, and what they were doing without their amazing Cousin.

“They will be awkward to carry with us,” Jaygak said. “We should buy them upon our return.”

Adam narrowed his eyes at Jaygak. “Who are you and what have you done with Jaygak?”

“It’s not hard to be wiser than you, thankfully.” Jaygak smirked, relaxing back into her chair.

Adam remained with his eyes narrowed towards her, before the group finally made their way out of Red Oak. Adam was glad he had told Sky to return, otherwise he would have had to summon a tower nearby again, and if he had summoned it too close, he’d have to deal with the Guards again.

Omen: 8, 20

It was noon the day after they had left Red Oak when they spotted him. He was an older man, adorned in light clothes, even in the season of duskval, which was cool, with a chilly wind, and rain every so often. The outfit he wore was similar to that of the Iyrmen, though the stranger was no Iyrman, for though his forehead was tattooed, it was a collection of four dots in the centre which formed a diamond.

Adam couldn’t quite place it, but the stranger felt so familiar to him, something which most of the group shared. As the large group approached the stranger, Adam called out to him. “Hello there!”

The old man stopped, his eyes falling across the entire group. He was utterly confused by the scene he saw before him. ‘Iyrmen, obviously.’ They weren’t the first Iyrmen he had met, and he had passed by a few on his current journeys. However, there were a large number of them, more than he had spotted at one time.

‘Are they training the youth?’ He stopped the thoughts, as there were other matters to think about. There were others with the group, a pair of Priests, and two which caught his interest. Two of them smelled weird, but in two different ways.

There was also that. That thing which he recognised from years past, which he hadn’t expected to see here, especially not with someone so weak.

“Young woman, why don’t you hand over that sword?” the old man asked, extending out his hand. He stared directly at the Devilkin, who wore Stormdrake at her side.

Jaygak, along with the others, quickly straightened up. Okvar and Rasam remained still, trying to measure the strength of the old man before them. The problem was, they couldn’t see into him at all, which meant he was greater than them, but they didn’t know the gap between their strength.

“I apologise, but I cannot give you my blade,” Jaygak replied, as politely as she could manage. She could feel it. There was a tingling heat at the back of her neck, and the other Iyrmen could feel it too.

“That blade is not something you can possess,” the old man said, holding his hand out still. He spoke calmly in the face of so many Iyrmen, and in front of almost two dozen strangers, many of whom were Experts, and even two who were easily considered Masters, on their way to becoming Grandmasters.

Jaygak’s heart pounded as she felt the old man’s attention squarely against her, and there was a gentle pressure which fell across her shoulders. Her fingers twitched towards her sword, but it was not to draw the blade against the man.

“Why not?” came a voice, which cut through the air. It was a clear voice, one which had snapped the others out of their thoughts. Adam narrowed his eyes at the old man, wondering how he could speak so firmly in the face of so many great warriors ahead of him.

“It is a blade greater than you can imagine,” the old man said, his eyes falling to Adam, who smelled weird. There were many smells which came off from Adam, from the smell of the rings, the shield, the smell which belonged to another world, and then that smell. It was a familiar smell, but there was something off about it. However, there was something else to deal with first.

“It is not something which can be possessed by the young Devilkin, she is too wea-,”

“She’s not a Devilkin,” Adam corrected. “She’s an Iyrman.”

The old man remained silent for a long moment. “My apologies,” he said, his eyes falling to the two Mithril Rank Iyrmen. ‘I did hear about that matter, yes.’ “However, I must ask the young lady to give up the blade.”

“Why? It’s her blade, and she’s not going to give it up just because you asked. It’s a great blade, like you said, so why should she give it up to some random guy she just met?” Adam was trying to figure out how the man knew how great Stormdrake was, but he hadn’t mentioned its name, so it may have been someone who could recognise the great blade through its sight or perhaps through an aura which may be coming off of it if one cast Detect Magic.

“It is not her blade.” The words had come out as though they were fact, and to the old man, they were. “You should hand it over.” He remained as polite as he could, trying not to start a fight with the Iyrmen.

“It is my blade,” Jaygak said, swallowing her nerves. Right. Okvar and Rasam were here, and so were Kitool, Jurot, and Adam. “It was gifted to me, so I cannot hand you the blade.”

“Gifted to you?” The old man thought about the matter. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility for it to be gifted to her.

“Yeah,” Adam said. “I won’t let you steal something I gifted to a friend of mine, old man.” There was something offensive about the fact someone was trying to steal a gift he had given to a friend of his.

“You gifted it?” His voice was dripping with doubt.

“Yes,” Adam replied, confidently.

“It belonged to you?” The temperature around them began to rise, but ever so slightly. Only the Iyrmen could feel it, and especially the pair of Devilkin. Laygak’s arms were frozen still.

“Yeah, I won it in a bet.”

‘Ah,’ the old man thought, the temperature falling back to normal. Suddenly, it all made sense. ‘I should make sure.’ “By whom?”

“Some old guy named Strom,” Adam said, wondering if he should say more.

‘Strom?’ The name sounded familiar, but of course the Lord of Storms would call himself Strom. “Yes. That would make sense.” The old man bowed his head. “Very well, then. I must ask you to excuse me.” If that man had given it up, then there was nothing he could have done, not unless he wanted to hear about it for years to come. He wasn’t sure he could handle hearing all the nagging, and there was also the matter of taking a blade which most likely belonged to the Iyr. ‘I should have let the matter go when I thought of it.’

“Sure,” Adam replied, noting how the air had changed. He rubbed his finger along Wizard’s Axe, which was currently in the form of a ring around his finger, and sighed with relief. ‘Sheesh. Here I thought we were going to fight.’

“However, I am going to have to ask the other young lady to surrender,” the old man said, politely.

“Which young lady?” Adam asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“The Demon Lord.”

There was a sudden movement as Jurot and Adam both stepped forward, ahead of Lucy. It was then Adam understood the severity of the issue. It was one thing to recognise Stormdrake’s obvious brilliance, but it was another thing to catch sight of Lucy and know that she was not only a Demon, but the Demon Lord.

“What are you talking about?” Adam asked, almost willing Wizard’s Axe into axe form. He kept it at bay, since if he summoned his axe, then this would have gone too far.

“I speak of the Demon Lord,” the old man said, raising a finger and pointing it to Lucy.

For a moment, Lucy felt something seize her heart, feeling a heavy pressure against her as the old man pointed towards her, but the moment passed. She had felt a deadly pressure for just a moment, her instincts telling her that this old man was not good news.

“Young man, why don’t you step aside?” The old man asked, noting that Adam had taken the lead, and it seemed the others of the group looked to him. He, the stranger from another world, was in command of this group, which also possessed two Iyrmen who were greater in power?

“Lucy is my friend,” Adam said, his fingers twitching still. One arm had reached back for his shield, and he gently rubbed along the cool edge. ‘Who the hell is this guy? Just how fearless can one guy be?’

The old man remained quiet for some time, trying to understand how to navigate the conversation. The seconds ticked by, with the tension in the air growing thick. The old man was still pointing at the Demon Lord, a girl not even a century old.

His tattoo grew warm, and a scream pierced the air.