Emperor's Reckoning - Chapter 1095: Arm Gone

The forest was alive with tension and anticipation as Cecile, Selena, and Karina arrived at the Gong of Thousand Lords. The ancient relic stood silent, almost echoing the gravity of the situation. Karina focused her divine senses, honed from years of training, and felt the subtle shifts of energy around her.

“I sense Kesya,” Karina whispered, her eyes closed in concentration. “They’re coming out of the forest.”

Cecile and Selena scanned the area, preparing for whatever revelation or confrontation might occur. They knew that this moment could hold the key to the mysteries they had encountered.

Just then, the young masters and the rest of the group arrived at the gong, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern. The gravity of the situation was palpable.

Drako couldn’t help but be momentarily distracted by the striking beautiful presence of Cecile and Selena, but Liam quickly brought everyone’s focus back to the matter at hand.

“Excuse our distraction,” Liam said, his tone sharp and to the point. “Do you have any idea what’s happening here?”

Cecile stepped forward, maintaining a composed and diplomatic demeanor. “We’re as puzzled as you are,” she responded. “We were drawn here by a series of events, much like yourselves.”

Sylva, the master of wood magic, looked at Lyon, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern. “Did you encounter anything unusual in the forest?”

Lyon and Kesya emerged from the forest, breathing heavily from their chase. Lyon hesitated for a moment, then explained, “We followed a… rather mysterious individual. He seemed to be in great distress.”

Elara, the serene archer, chimed in, her eyes scanning the surroundings cautiously. “Distress? In this place?”

Kesya, never one to stay quiet for long, added with a mischievous grin, “Maybe he’s just afraid of young master’s cooking.”

Cecile shot Kesya a warning glance. “This is a serious matter, Kesya.”

Selena quickly stood by Lyon’s side and hugged his arm, concern evident in her eyes. “Darling, are you okay?”

A spark of envy flickered in Drako’s eyes as he watched the display of affection. Liam glanced at Drako and then turned to Lyon, keeping the conversation on track. “This mysterious individual you pursued, any idea who he is?”

Lyon glanced at Selena, giving her a reassuring smile, before focusing on Liam’s question. “He looked like the beggar from this morning.”

Drako raised his brows the moment he heard the mention of a beggar. He pointed out confidently, “That must be the guy from this morning. If he dares to return, I’ll give him a lesson he won’t forget. His mother won’t recognize him once I’m done with him.”

As Drako boasted about teaching the beggar a lesson, Liam and Elara picked up on the subtle hint in Lyon’s words. The scream they had heard from the beggar in the morning and now his reappearance must be related to Lyon in some way.

Liam, always quick to connect the dots, felt a suspicion growing inside him. ( Could this beggar have something to do with him? ) He decided to keep this thought to himself, waiting for more clues.

Elara, the serene archer with a perceptive gaze, also had her suspicions. ( There’s an unspoken connection here, something Lyon isn’t sharing ). However, she chose to keep her observations to herself for now.

Sylva, the master of wood magic, sensed the growing tension among the group and decided to be the peacemaker. She spoke softly, “I think it’s best if we return to the bonfire and continue the festivities. We can address this situation later when we have more information.”

Drako, always one to seize an opportunity, saw Cecile and Selena as prizes to be won. He flashed them a cocky grin and stepped forward with an exaggerated flourish. His voice carried an air of arrogance as he said, “Ladies, would you care to grace the dance floor with the presence of true masters?”

His approach was aggressive, lacking the subtlety and grace that a dance invitation usually carried. It felt more like a command than an invitation, as if he expected compliance rather than consent. It was clear he was used to getting his way and reveling in the attention.

Cecile, graceful and composed, smiled politely at Drako’s offer. She tilted her head slightly, a gesture of appreciation for the invitation. Her words were chosen with care, aimed to convey her gratitude but also her decline, “Thank you for the offer, young master. But perhaps another time.”

Her tone was gentle, her refusal wrapped in diplomacy. Cecile didn’t want to cause a scene, especially in the midst of what should be a joyful gathering. It was meant to be a respectful way of declining, allowing Drako to gracefully step back without embarrassment.

However, Drako’s response was unexpected. His face twisted into a mix of frustration and determination, and he reached for her wrist, ignoring her polite words. It was at this moment that things took an uncomfortable turn, and Cecile’s eyes widened in surprise and then disgust.

The polite decline seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, replaced by an alarming display of aggression. She tugged slightly, trying to free her wrist, her tone now firm and assertive, “Let go, I said no.”

However, Drako seemed determined to exert his dominance. He even flashed a menacing smile, showing no intention of relenting. His actions were causing discomfort not just to Cecile but to those witnessing this encounter. n–0In

The atmosphere shifted drastically, and the festive gathering around the gong took a dark and ominous turn. As Cecile’s graceful refusal caught the attention of the young masters, Liam’s furrowed brows signaled his concern. His intent was clear – Drako should release her immediately.

“Drako, what are you doing?! Don’t do anything foolish!” said Liam

However, Drako, his face a mixture of arrogance and defiance, held his ground. He dismissed Liam’s warning, his tone dripping with condescension, “Shut up, Liam. Mind your own business. I’m here to have some fun tonight.”

But in the next moment, a potent and overwhelming sensation of bloodlust emanated, as if the world itself was about to be cleaved in two. The young masters, along with everyone present, watched in astonishment as a pitch-black blade, darkened by the countless souls it had consumed, descended with a terrifying force, aimed at Drako’s arm.

The arrogance was severed through like a hot knife through butter. Blood churned out after a pause.

Drako jolted in pain and the young masters and onlookers were in shock, then sank in horror as they saw who wielded the blade. The killing intent emanating from him could silence the forest itself. Sylva commented, her voice trembling, “That aura… it’s beyond anything I’ve felt before.”

Lyon, his face an icy mask, slowly lowered his blade.