Emperor's Reckoning
1081 I am My Wingman
The old man, hovering in the air, looked at Lyon's group. His eyes caught the masks they wore to hide their identities. Some wore expressions of awe, while others seemed more expectant as if they had anticipated his appearance.
Princess Yala, her eyes widening in disbelief, stood frozen for a moment as she gazed at the old man. The reality of the situation struck her—this was no ordinary person; he was a being of immense power and knowledge. Collecting her thoughts and summoning her composure, she pushed through her astonishment and introduced herself.
"Good morning, Sir Librarian," she began, her voice steady though laced with awe and respect. "I am Princess Yala, and I hold the rightful claim to enter The Compendium." She wanted to assert her position while maintaining a respectful tone, recognizing the authority that emanated from the old man.
Lyon, slightly confused, muttered, "Who?"
"W-Wait, master, you're back?" Kesya stammered. "Oh, this is going to be a long story." The old man observed the interactions with a mix of amusement and intrigue, allowing them to unravel the situation.
The old man seemed to glide gracefully from his elevated position, an ethereal figure descending from the heights of wisdom. Each step carried an air of authority, an energy that demanded attention and respect. He emanated a sense of timelessness as if the knowledge he bore was as ancient as the stars.
As he touched the ground, his presence seemed to fill the very air, causing a hushed awe to settle over the onlookers. Yala, too, felt the weight of his presence, a mixture of trepidation and fascination. The old man carried himself with the poise of someone who had seen ages come and go, and his eyes held the depth of countless experiences. "You are the one who is supposed to enter my library?"
Yala nodded, summoning the courage to speak. Her finger wavered, then steadied as she pointed at Lyon. "This—" Her voice caught, her sentence disrupted by an unexpected sight. Lyon's face was no longer hidden behind the mask. He stood before her, fully revealed as a human.
Her mind raced, grappling with this revelation. ( A human... )she murmured within her thoughts, struggling to make sense of it. Gathering her composure, she resumed, her voice unwavering, "This thief stole the owl tome from me."
The old man regarded Lyon, who seemed caught in the swirl of perplexity. A sigh escaped the old man, a sign of familiarity with Lyon's enigmatic demeanor. He was well-acquainted with how Lyon could vanish like a shadow when he wanted to. Yet, now, the situation required attention, particularly addressing this unexpected princess.
He shifted his gaze toward Yala, a dignified grace in his movements. "I apologize for his behavior. You have my permission to enter the library and procure whatever proves useful. However, I must warn you, the current state of the place is less than ideal."
Yala, caught between confusion and curiosity, was suddenly compelled by an unseen force. It urged her to step forward, compelling her to enter the library. The door swung shut behind her, sealing her fate within those arcane walls.
She looked up, the library was dimly listed and only a few bookshelves stood. The air was damp, but her mind raced. The words coming out of the librarian were more shocking than the state of the library. Many assumptions occur, but she can't pinpoint any of them to become the ultimate truth. "No use in thinking it now," said Yala as she basked in the opportunity that never came for most people.
In the midst of this remarkable moment, as Yala ventured into the library, a ripple of surprise coursed through the members of Lyon's group. Karina, usually composed, was taken aback by the unfolding events. The atmosphere seemed to buzz with an unusual kind of energy, blending anticipation with a hint of apprehension.
Cecile, ever the playful and mischievous spirit of the group, seized the opportunity to reveal her face. The act was a symbolic unmasking, a shedding of layers that mirrored the mysteries surrounding the library. Her smirk spoke volumes, embodying the excitement of an enigma being unraveled.
Following her lead, Selena and Kesya also removed their masks, their expressions a blend of intrigue and readiness for whatever lay ahead. Each member of this extraordinary group stood in the library, their faces unmasked, their identities exposed yet still shrouded in the intrigue of the unknown.
The old man raised his brows, "I recognize that auburn hair, so you did the same as Maria, and you with the black hair, blade radiates around you, you did as well." then he looked back at Cecile, "But... were you always this tall?"
"Now she is a War Goddess," said Kesya. "Remember me, old man?"
"I don't want to," said the librarian.
"Oh' come on, you ought to," said Kesya before pouting.
Karina was at a loss. The conversation was beyond her scope, but her eyes found Lyon who shared the same glance. She quickly approached him, "Are you okay, Emperor?"
"... What? What did you call me?" asked Lyon.
"Lyon!?" Karina immediately had her eyes widened and grabbed his face with two hands.
"Did I change my name?" Lyon was bewildered and confused, but a sudden realization made her pupils shrink. He grabbed both of her hands, "Y-You have hands!"
Karina giggled. A rare sight from the Golden Demoness. "We did it."
"We did?" Lyon furrowed his brows before he recalled the old man's words about being in Hell. "No way... we're really in Hell?"
Karina pushed his hands away before leaping for a hug. Embracing her student with her eyes moist under her mask. She spoke softly, "Thank you... for keeping your promise."
Lyon was still at a loss and returned the embrace. He closed his eyes and entered his sea memories. He glances at the immersive door.
"Hey, did you help Karina?" shouted Lyon. His words echoed, in this realm but he heard no response. He frowned and opened his mouth, "H—"
"Can I not be the wingman for myself?" the voice behind the door answered.
Lyon smirked before returning to his body, still in her embrace but various gazes made him look up.
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