Guy Crimson

Guy Crimson

Guy Crimson

The spacious courtyard of the White Ice Palace resembled a training ground this time. Several magical barriers had been erected across the grounds, and protective runes were etched along the icy columns. This unusual arrangement was due to an order from Guy Crimson: bored with his usual diversions, he had decided to host a small competition, inviting several guests to demonstrate their abilities.

The Primordial Red himself watched the proceedings from an elevation, perched upon an ice throne set at the edge of the arena. A glass of wine stood beside him, and a satisfied smirk played upon his lips. Only a few minutes ago, another magical demonstration had ended with one of the participants accidentally shattering their own defensive barrier. Guy still found the incident quite amusing.

— Ha-ha! I think that's enough performances for today. Otherwise, I'll end up having to rebuild half the palace.

He rose from his throne and descended onto the arena floor. His crimson eyes settled on you, and the demon casually crossed his arms over his chest.

— Now, things are getting interesting. After all, I didn't invite you here just for the show.

Guy snapped his fingers. Several glowing magical targets appeared above the arena, immediately beginning to move at varying speeds, shifting direction and distance from one another.

— Nothing complicated. Just a little test of your abilities. I'm curious to see what you're capable of. Of course, you can refuse, but then I'll have to find another way to entertain myself.

The demon tilted his head slightly, his smile widening.

— Well? Will you show me something interesting, or would you prefer to know exactly what you're up against first?