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He was a figure of authority, a man who had se and done things that most of them could only imagine in their darkest nightmares. And now, his mind was focused on a single goal: Lyerin Borgias.

"We must prepare," the man in the suit declared, his voice cold and calculated. "I will go to Lyerin's tribe, but be vigilant here in the real world. Lyerin is cunning, and he will likely attempt to retrieve his mother's body. You all must delay him as long as possible before I come there. Remember, the halfling has many tricks up his sleeve. Do not underestimate him, or we will all pay the price."

The room buzzed with the hurried movemts of the Borgias Family as they scrambled to put their plans into action.

Orders were shouted, and strategies formed as they prepared to take their fight from the shadowy courts of their hidd world to the real world.

The man in the suit watched them with an impassive expression, his thoughts already far ahead, calculating every possible outcome.

He knew Lyerin would come for his mother.

It was only a matter of time. But if they could hold him off, if they could delay him long ough, he would sure that the halfling never posed a threat to them again.

Without another word, the man in the suit turned and vanished into the shadows, leaving the courtroom to prepare for the coming confrontation.

...

In the dim, moonlit territory of Lyerin's tribe, the man in the black suit stood before a towering statue, its features carved with precision and care.

The statue looked new but the aura its emitting was ancit, like its new stone weathered by time, yet it still exudes an aura of power.

The man's gaze was fixed on the figure before him, his sses tingling with the faint pulse of magic that seemed to emanate from the statue.

Something was wrong—he could feel it in the air, a disturbance that whispered of hidd secrets.

As he studied the statue, a small magic circle flickered to life beath his feet.

A voice echoed from the circle, its tone urgt. "What do you see there?"

The man in the suit narrowed his eyes. "There's something within the statue," he replied, his voice low. "I can feel an essce… something powerful, but faint."

"Essce?" the voice on the other d of the magic circle responded, alarmed. "It can't be… Could it be the spirit we've be searching for?"

The man in the suit remained silt for a momt, his mind racing.

The Borgias Family had spt countless years, decades, perhaps ev cturies, searching for a way to awak a spirit that would cemt their power for gerations to come.

This spirit was not just any tity—it was the key to unlocking a new level of power, something that had eluded them despite all their resources and knowledge.

And now, that very spirit seemed to be here, hidd within this statue, under the control of a mere halfling.

The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. "Lyerin…" he whispered, more to himself than to the person on the other d of the circle. "That damned halfling has done what we couldn't. He's awaked the spirit and formed his own tribe a it."

The implications were staggering.

If Lyerin had managed to harness the power of this spirit, th he was far more dangerous than they had ever imagined.

It wasn't just that he was a rogue member of the Borgias Family—he was a force that could pottially rival the family itself.

"We need to act now," the man in the suit said urgtly, his calm demeanor slipping as the gravity of the situation sank in. "We need to—"

But before he could finish, his shadows flickered, a split second of warning before an explosion of magic tore through the air.

The g beath him shook violtly as the statue erupted in a blinding flash of light and force, sding shockwaves across the territory.

The man in the suit barely had time to react, his body veloped in his shadows as he tried to shield himself from the blast.

...

Far away, in a secluded part of the ruined magical world, Lyerin stood in a dimly lit room, his left shoulder dripping blood onto the cold stone floor. His breath came in ragged gasps as he clutched the stump where his hand had once be.

The pain was excruciating, but his mind was sharper than ever, racing to adapt to this unexpected turn of evts.

"A sevth-cycle assassin..." he muttered to himself, his voice laced with a mix of disbelief and grudging respect. "The Borgias are more prepared than I thought. I didn't anticipate facing someone of that caliber. It wasn't in the records… not in any of the histories I studied back th wh I studied them thoroughly."

His mind flashed back to the momt wh he had be attacked.

The speed, the precision—it was like nothing he had ever countered. He had always be careful, always prepared for the unexpected, but this… this had caught him off guard. And it had cost him dearly.

"Just one arm…" Lyerin chuckled bitterly, though the sound was strained. "It's just one arm. I'll manage. I always do."

Despite the pain, Lyerin's eyes glittered with a dangerous light. He knew that the assassin, despite their strgth, would not walk away unscathed.

Lyerin had be ready for such an evtuality.

The traps he had laid, the contingcies he had put in place—if the assassin had fall into them, although he wouldn't die, he would be gravely injured, perhaps ev mortally wounded.

"One arm for a sevth-cycle warrior," Lyerin mused, his tone dark. "I'd say that's a fair trade."

He reached into his magic ring, his fingers brushing against the cold surface of the object within.

With a soft incantation, he pulled it out, revealing a massive coffin-like bed, its surface etched with runes that glowed faintly in the dim light.

It was a construct of immse power, something he had spt years perfecting.

Not far from him, lying unconscious on a simple cot, was the body of his mother. She looked peaceful, almost as if she were merely sleeping, but Lyerin knew better. He had kept her alive, suspded in a state betwe life and death, waiting for the momt wh he could bring her back fully.

And that momt was now.

Lyerin walked slowly toward the statue that dominated the cter of the room.

It was the same statue that had be targeted by the man in the suit, the same one that had nearly cost him his life.

As he approached, the statue seemed to pulse with a faint, ethereal light, as if recognizing his presce.

"It's time," Lyerin whispered, his voice filled with a mix of reverce and resolve. "Time to return to the real world… and fetch my mother's real body."

With a flick of his wrist, the coffin-like bed floated gtly to his mother's side. He carefully lifted her frail form and placed her inside, his movemts gtle despite the urgcy he felt.

The runes on the coffin began to glow brighter, the magic within them stirring as they recognized the life force they were designed to protect.

Lyerin turned back to the statue.

He placed his hand on it, feeling the power within it that seemed to respond to his touch. "Take me back," he said softly.

As the magic circle beath the statue flared to life, Lyerin's figure disappeared.