John Jones
Stories
6
Chapters
3,883
Words
1.6 M
Comments
0
Reading
5 d, 15 h
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Elara's swing was a dance of grace and precision. The anticipation in the air was palpable, the crowd holding their breath collectively. The mallet met the gong with elegance, but again, the result remained disappointingly unremarkable. The gong seemed to absorb the impact, resisting the efforts to stir its true resonance. Confusion and frustration played on Elara's usually composed face. The elusive nature of this challenge grated against her pride as the Serene Archer. She exchanged glances with her…
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The crowd was still trying to recollect their thoughts from what had just transpired. Drako smirked disdainfully in the direction where the insane beggar had fled, "What a waste." He stepped forward before reaching for the mallet. But just as he was about to grasp it, Liam, sharp-witted and not one to back down, interrupted him, "Who said you get to go first?" The tension became palpable, a thick cloud of uncertainty hanging in the air. The onlookers were on the edge of wondering how this power…
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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…
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Lyon's brow furrowed further, struck by the strange encounter with the beggar. His curiosity was piqued, but he knew now wasn't the time to dwell on it. Cecile's hand on his shoulder drew him back to the present situation. "Lyon, we need to find a lodging first," said Cecile after sensing unrest inside her husband. "You're right," Lyon replied, refocusing his attention. "We should secure lodging before it's all taken." As they waded through the bustling crowd, Kesya's keen ears picked up on rumors…
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Cecile leaned in slightly, curiosity dancing in her eyes, and asked the merchant, "By the way, who should we be on the lookout for during this gathering? Are there any notable figures or individuals we should be aware of?" The merchant chuckled, seemingly delighted to share some local knowledge. "Ah, the Four Young Masters of Second Hell. They're the ones to watch out for. Two men and two women, all incredibly talented and renowned in these parts." Cecile paid careful attention as the merchant…
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Lyon studied the watery, blurred image within the arc. It depicted a realm that seemed eerily similar to the First Hell, a place he had already traversed. Cecile, standing beside him, spoke up, "Looks like quite the adventure awaits. Ready for round two?" He grinned, "Always. And this time, we're closer to finding her." Kesya joined the conversation, a playful glint in her eyes, "We have some new intel with Yala and her father's connections." Selena nodded, "Without a doubt, she is telling her…
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Yala couldn't help but smirk as her father's eyes widened in sheer astonishment at her revelation. "Your old friend, the best archer you've ever seen... The Zodiac Emperor, Lyon Torga." The shock that rippled across the Emperor's face was profound, leaving him utterly speechless in the wake of this unexpected revelation. The Emperor, usually composed and regal, now had an expression akin to someone who had just witnessed a monumental event. His piercing elven eyes widened, reflecting disbelief and an…
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The group stood in silence, the weight of the situation sinking in. They had been on the verge of embarking on a journey to find Maria, guided by Yala's knowledge, only to have her whisked away by the Summoning Ruby Stone. Lyon clenched his fists, struggling to come to terms with the sudden turn of events. "Goddamnit old man, why do you have to say that." "What? Say what?" said the librarian with his brows furrowed. "You were setting up a flag and it sailed," said Lyon. "What the hell are you…
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Yala nodded, confirming her lineage. "Yes, Iris is my mother." "No way..." Kesya muttered in disbelief. "They finally have a child." Lyon, caught in a whirlwind of emotions and revelations, was at a loss for words. He would have preferred to be called a thief than be labeled an uncle at his age. Cecile was warm and affectionate, reaching out to rustle Yala's hair gently. "You're as beautiful as your mother, and that mischievous glint in your eyes... just like her. But those eyes, they remind me so…
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? Yala crossed her arms too, her demeanor defensive. "Talk? About what exactly?" "Dear Princess," said the old man with his head lowered in respect, "I see that you picked up not a single tome or book, but rest assured, you will have plenty of time later, just hear this young man out... with an open heart." Yala was shocked at how the esteemed figure showed some respect to a human that she hardly could detect the cultivation level of. She frowned looking at Lyon, the identity of the young man…
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