Emperor's Reckoning



The pilgrimage up the mountain was like a moving sea of anticipation and energy, carried by the fervor of the crowd. Chants and cheers for the young masters filled the air, each supporter hoping their chosen master would be the one to ring the Gong of Thousand Lords.

As the crowd of followers and spectators ascended the mountain, a lively debate echoed among them. Whispers and opinions were exchanged like leaves rustling in the wind, discussing who should have the honor of striking the Gong of Thousand Lords first.

"Drako has the spirit of a dragon! He should go first!" exclaimed one enthusiastic supporter, wearing a badge bearing Drako's emblem.

Liam's supporters argued back, "Liam's precision with the sword rivals the swift strike of lightning! He's the rightful one."

Amidst the chatter, a group favoring Elara chimed in, "Elara's elven precision is unmatched. She embodies grace and accuracy."

And then there were those who believed in Sylva, the druid. "Sylva's understanding of nature is profound. She'll strike a chord with the gong like the harmony of the forest."

Unbeknownst to the crowd, the four young masters overheard snippets of these conversations. Drako, exuding arrogance, chimed in confidently, "Why bother with such deliberations? It's evident that I, Drako Wyrmsheart, should go first. The rest of you can retire and enjoy the sound of success from a distance."

Liam retorted, his words edged with a sharpness akin to his blade, "Success is not measured by the loudness of the strike, but the precision and finesse of the heart. I shall demonstrate the artistry of the blade."

Elara, with her poise and brevity, simply added, "Let actions speak louder than words."

Sylva, the druid, remained calm, a smile on her face. "Nature has its rhythm. I'll follow it."

The debate continued as the procession moved closer to the gong, the crowd eager to witness which master would prove their prowess. Meanwhile, Lyon finally got a hold of a view of the gong. His eyes widened in astonishment.

The Gong of Thousand Lords stood atop a stone pedestal, a majestic and ancient artifact gleaming under the sun. It was an immense structure, crafted from an alloy of metals known for their resonance and durability. The surface was adorned with intricate engravings depicting tales of battles and triumphs, symbols of power and unity.

The gong's circular face bore a mesmerizing pattern—a swirling design that seemed to echo the spirals of galaxies. An aura of mystique enveloped it as if it held secrets beyond mortal comprehension.

Around its edges, symbols representing various elements were inscribed, hinting at the diverse energies it was meant to channel. These engravings were delicately inlaid with metals of different colors—copper, silver, and gold—signifying the unity and balance of elemental forces.

At the center, a raised boss could be seen, adorned with ancient symbols and runes. It was here, at the heart of the gong, that the strikes would resonate most profoundly, echoing through the mountain and beyond.

Lyon, Cecile, Selena, and Kesya kept their distance, finding a vantage point where they could observe the proceedings. Lyon's eyes remained fixed on the gong, his heart beating in anticipation. He knew that the ancient artifact held the key to finding Maria, and he could not afford any missteps.

"Huh?"  The anticipation in the air was palpable as the crowd awaited the commencement of this pivotal event. The young masters, ready to strike the gong to display their prowess, were taken aback when they realized the mallet—the crucial tool for this display—was nowhere to be seen.

Confusion flickered across their faces as they exchanged puzzled glances, wondering if there had been some oversight. Their scrutiny intensified, and that's when they spotted a pair of feet peeking from behind the gong.

Drako, his arrogance momentarily replaced by a hint of suspicion, was the first to speak up. "Who's back there? Show yourself!"

The figure responded and revealed himself to be the beggar from yesterday, his eyes lost in a world of their own. Clutched tightly against his chest was the mallet—the missing piece that was needed to strike the gong.

Drako, recognizing the disheveled figure from the previous day, furrowed his brow. "Wait a minute... it's that beggar."

The murmurs of realization cascaded through the crowd as they too recognized the ragged man who had been laughed at just yesterday. The beggar, seemingly in his own realm, didn't respond to their questions. His gaze wandered aimlessly through the crowd, unfocused and distant.

People gasped and stepped back, startled by the sudden turn of events. The beggar bolted, fleeing the scene with an urgency that sent chills down their spines. The mallet lay abandoned, an enigma that had only deepened.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, the realization dawning upon them that the beggar's sudden terror might indeed be due to the intimidating presence of the four young masters. Drako couldn't help but wear a self-satisfied smirk as he soaked in the attention.

However, Liam, known for his sharp mind and tongue, and Elara, with her haughty demeanor, shared a look of subtle understanding. They had noticed something odd about the beggar's behavior—the final gaze he cast before letting out that blood-curdling scream hadn't been directed at any of the young masters.

Liam leaned in closer to Elara, his voice a hushed murmur. "Did you see that, Elara? His last gaze... it was as if he saw something dreadful within the crowd."

Elara nodded in agreement, her expression uncharacteristically serious. "Indeed, It wasn't us who frightened him."

However, for the group, it was apparent, for the last gaze was laid on them in particular a single young man.

Cecile smirked as he called out, "Lyon."

Selena called out as well, "Darling, he was..."

"En," Lyon had his brows furrowed. It was he whom the beggar shared his last gaze before panicking and screaming. Their eyes met for a brief and Lyon didn't even have to exert his presence, but it was enough for him to experience horror. However, he couldn't dwell on the insane beggar any longer, since the mallet was now on the ground waiting to be wield.