The bustling port city of Erantel was alive with activity.
Sailors shouted orders, fishermen hauled in their catches, and merchants haggled over prices, their voices blending into a chaotic symphony.
Amidst the noise, Zahara stood out like a beacon of calm. Her tall, elegant figure was draped in a flowing cloak, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon with a mix of impatience and annoyance.
She tapped her foot lightly against the wooden dock, her arms crossed as she waited.
'Where are they?' she thought, her lips curling into a slight frown.
She had been waiting for what felt like hours, and her patience was wearing thin.
But as her mind wandered, it drifted to a certain someone—Lucas.
The thought of her unexpected disciple brought a small, almost imperceptible smile to her lips.
He was reckless, stubborn, and a bit reserved, but there was something about him that intrigued her.
Perhaps it was his potential, or maybe it was the way he defied expectations at every turn. Whatever it was, she couldn't deny that he had grown on her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a massive ship approaching the port. Its sails billowed in the wind, and its hull cut through the water with ease.
Zahara straightened, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the vessel. Finally, they were here.
The ship docked, and a flood of passengers began to disembark.
Zahara ignored most of them, her gaze sweeping the crowd until it landed on two familiar figures.
The first was a woman in her late twenties with striking green hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall.
Her pale skin and matching green eyes gave her an almost ethereal appearance, and her slim yet attractive figure drew more than a few glances from the sailors around her.
This was Athra, Zahara's longtime comrade and friend.
Beside her stood a man who couldn't have been more different.
He was a towering figure, standing at least seven feet tall, with a muscular build that made him look like he could crush boulders with his bare hands.
His black hair was cropped short, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the surroundings with a cold, calculating gaze.
This was Agar, Zahara's… well, "colleague" would be putting it nicely. The hostility between them was palpable, even from a distance.
Athra spotted Zahara first and her face lit up with excitement. "Zahara!" she called, waving enthusiastically as she hurried over.
Without warning, she threw her arms around Zahara in a tight hug, nearly knocking her off balance.
"Athra," Zahara said, her tone polite but slightly strained as she returned the hug. "It's good to see you."
Agar, on the other hand, approached with far less enthusiasm.
He stopped a few feet away, his arms crossed over his broad chest, and glared at Zahara. "Zahara," he said, his voice low and dripping with disdain. "You're late."
Zahara raised an eyebrow, her expression cool and composed. "I've been here for hours, Agar. Perhaps you should learn to read a clock."
Athra, sensing the tension, quickly stepped between them, her hands raised in a placating gesture.
"Alright, alright, let's not start this again. We're all here now, and that's what matters, right?"
Zahara sighed, her tone softening as she turned to Athra. "You're right. It's good to see you, Athra. You look well."
Athra beamed, her excitement undiminished. "It's so good to see you too! It's been way too long. Oh, and guess what? I brought you some of those pastries you like from the capital. They're in my bag somewhere…"
As Athra rummaged through her bag, Zahara couldn't help but smile.
Athra's enthusiasm was infectious, and it was a welcome distraction from the hostility radiating off Agar. But the moment was short-lived.
"Enough with the small talk," Agar growled, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "We have a mission to discuss."
Zahara's smile faded, and she turned to face him, her expression hardening. "Yes, we do. But perhaps you'd like to explain why you're so eager to rush into things, as usual."
Agar's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer, his towering frame looming over Zahara. "Because unlike you, I don't have time to waste on pointless pleasantries."
Athra stepped between them again, her voice rising in an attempt to diffuse the situation. "Okay, okay, let's all calm down. We're a team, remember? Let's focus on the mission."
Zahara took a deep breath, forcing herself to remain calm. "You're right, Athra. The mission comes first."
Agar snorted but said nothing, his arms still crossed as he glared at Zahara.
The three of them began walking away from the port, heading into the city.
As they walked, Zahara filled them in on the details of the mission.
"The Archon has tasked us with retrieving Danafor from the Atlantic Dungeon," she said, her tone serious.
"As you know, the dungeon is home to the Leviathan. This won't be easy."
Athra's eyes widened with excitement. "The Leviathan? Wow, that's… kind of terrifying, but also really exciting! I've always wanted to see a legendary beast up close."
Agar, on the other hand, looked unimpressed. "It's just another monster," he said dismissively. "We'll crush it like all the others."
Zahara shot him a sharp look. "Underestimating the Leviathan would be a fatal mistake. This isn't just any monster—it's a force of nature. We need to be prepared."
Agar sneered. "Speak for yourself. I don't need a lecture from you."
Athra sighed, clearly used to their bickering. "Can we please just focus on the mission? We're all on the same side here."
Zahara nodded, though her expression remained tense. "Agreed. Let's head to the inn and go over the plan. We'll need to gather supplies and information before we set out."
As they continued walking, the tension between Zahara and Agar was thick enough to cut with a knife.
Athra did her best to mediate, her cheerful demeanor a stark contrast to the hostility between her two companions.
But despite their differences, they all knew one thing: the mission came first.
And if they were going to survive the Atlantic Dungeon and retrieve Danafor, they would need to work together—whether they liked it or not.