City Outskirts…
Under the Banyan Tree…
A mob of men in black clothes gathered in that pitch dark night. The public cemetery provided them a shield from the public.
A campfire lit at the centre.
The flickering flames cast eerie shadows on the dark-clad figures sitting around the fire. The cold night air carried the hushed whispers of anticipation, the crackling of burning logs the only sound disturbing the silence of the cemetery nearby.
At the center of the gathering, Kalakeya, a strong and imposing figure, stood tall. His black robe fluttered slightly in the wind, and in his right hand, he held a black wooden sword, its edges sharpened not with steel but with the deadly energy of the forbidden Black Sword Art.
