“Death is an illusion. It’s a shadow that falls across our lives, but it’s not the end. It’s a transformation, a doorway to something new. And I’ll be back, because the truth is, I never really left.” His face was a masterpiece of masculine beauty, with high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and full lips that seemed to hint at a perpetual smile. Elian Vale, a 25 year old, standing at a height of 6 foot 1 inches (175 cm), he weighed 154 lbs (70 kg), his hair was Short and dark, his skin Tone, Light, and he eyes, a light Brown. Elian Vale lives in a contemporary city called Tokyo, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of everyday life. He navigates the challenges of his personal and professional life, just like anyone else. Elian is a *Detective* with the Tokyo police department. He’s a skilled investigator with a keen eye for detail. … … …. Elian Vale stepped into the crowded briefing room, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and stale air filling his nostrils. He weaved through

As Elian swung open the door and stepped into the bar, the dim lighting enveloped him. Neon signs cast a colorful glow on the walls, while the air was thick with the smell of beer, whiskey, and smoke. The sounds of clinking glasses, laughter, and the hum of conversation filled the background. The patrons were a rough-looking bunch, with leather jackets, tattoos, and scars. Some looked like hardened bikers, while others resembled street thugs. They were engaged in various activities - some were drinking shots, others were playing pool, while a few were huddled around the bar, watching a game on TV. As soon as Elian walked in, the room fell silent. All eyes turned towards him, filled with a mixture of hostility and curiosity. The patrons' gazes lingered on Elian's unfamiliar face, his clean clothes, and his refined features. Elian, however, pretended not to notice the glares. He walked calmly to the bar, his eyes scanning the room with a mixture of caution and confidence. Taking a

Damian’s breath caught. Because the face staring back at him in the photo was him. The man with the golden eyes. The very same man who tore his family apart all those years ago. The face burned into his nightmares. The face that haunted every quiet moment. The man whose existence defied logic, reality, and everything Damian thought he knew. He stared at the picture, his whole body going rigid, blood from his broken nose trailing down to his chin. His voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible. “…Where did you get this?” The woman said nothing—her expression cold, watching him tremble. She let go of his collar, the picture still in front of him, burning itself into his thoughts. His hatred stirred. But beneath it now… a growing sense of fear. Damian's breath grew ragged. His eyes locked onto the picture—those golden eyes staring back at him, that smirk like a phantom carved into memory. His fingers curled into trembling fists, the metal chains around his wrists rattling with a

“Incredible” Elian said to himself as he watched the dragon fly by. As the dragon flew by, Elian felt a rush of excitement and wonder. He had never seen anything like it before. The dragon’s scales glistened in the sunlight, and its wings beat powerful and slow, sending waves of air rippling through the grass. Tharros smiled, seeming to sense Elian’s awe. “This world is full of wonders, Elian,” he said. “But we must be careful. Not all creatures here are friendly.” Elian nodded, still gazing after the dragon. He felt a sense of longing, as if he wanted to follow the dragon and see where it would lead. Tharros touched his arm, breaking the spell. “Come, Alister,” he said. “We have much to do today. We need to gather supplies and gear for your training.” Elian nodded, following Tharros as they made their way through the rolling hills and grasslands. They walked for a while, the sun beating down on them, until they came to a small village nestled in the heart of a valley. The

As morning broke, the world awakened from its slumber, bathed in a warm, golden light. The sky transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors, a gentle blend of soft pinks, blush tones, and powder blues. The clouds, tinted with hues of coral and salmon, drifted lazily across the horizon, their wispy tendrils stretching out like ethereal fingers. The air vibrated with the sweet melodies of birdsong, as the morning chorus erupted from the treetops. A bright blue jay flitted between the branches, its iridescent feathers glimmering like sapphires in the morning light. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, releasing the fragrant scent of blooming flowers and fresh-cut grass. The atmosphere was alive with the promise of a new day, filled with possibilities and adventure. As the sun rose higher in the sky, its rays danced across the landscape, casting long shadows and illuminating the dew-kissed grass. The light was soft and warm, with a hint of crispness that hinted at the approaching dawn. The