1097: Wouldn't Dare to Offend Wrymheart?

Wouldn't Dare to Offend Wrymheart?

Cecile understood that there was no turning back now. The rift between their groups had deepened, and the mysterious events surrounding the insane beggar would have to remain unsolved for the time being. She exchanged a knowing glance with Selena, their unity unwavering even in the face of conflict.0

Lyon's group stood resolute, and it was clear that they were prepared for whatever might transpire. Karina, ever the fierce protector, had her guard up, ready to step in if the situation escalated further. Her gaze darted between the young masters and Lyon, her loyalty unwavering.

The tense standoff continued, and it was only a matter of time before the brewing storm erupted, with the outcome uncertain, but the determination of each side unwavering. The forest held its breath, waiting for the clash that would soon shatter the tranquility of the night.

"Hahahaha!"

The tense standoff in the forest was disrupted by Drako's arrogant laughter, despite his grievous injury. His taunts hung heavy in the air, and it seemed a violent clash was inevitable.

But then, Lyon's keen eyes caught a streak of red light on the horizon. It approached rapidly, like a meteor hurtling through the night sky. The one Drako summoned was approaching.

In the midst of the tension, Lyon remained as steadfast as a mountain, his demeanor unwavering despite the fiery streak heading towards them. As the light drew near Drako, it revealed a figure - a representative of Drako's dragon clan. This man wore a dignified robe, indicating his high status within the clan, and bore the wisdom of middle age in his features.

The dragon clan representative landed gracefully, the fiery aura dissipating as he stepped forward with a composed air. He looked at the injured Drako, and then at Lyon and his group. His voice was commanding, yet tinged with understanding, as he spoke, "Young Master Drako, what is the meaning of this conflict? Explain, and be honest."

Elara's eyes widened slightly as she recognized the stern figure before her. "That's Master Valerius," she whispered to Sylva, her voice laced with concern.

Sylva nodded, a flicker of worry crossing her features. "Master Valerius is known to be exceptionally loyal to the Dragon Clan's young masters. Drako's safety is of utmost importance to him."

Drako's words cunningly spun to his advantage and painted Lyon as the aggressor in this situation. He smirked as he began to narrate the tale, "We were enjoying the festivities when I invited the lovely lady with red hair for a dance. Suddenly, without any provocation, this man attacked me and severed my arm."

The dragon clan representative listened attentively, carefully considering Drako's account. His gaze shifted to Cecile, who had remained silent, and then to Selena, who stood by Lyon's side. He was aware of the subtleties of such gatherings and the complexities of inter-clan relations.

Cecile's eyes narrowed as she knew the true events were being manipulated. Yet, she held her silence, allowing the situation to unfold while her mind worked swiftly to find a resolution that would prevent further escalation.

"I'm not in the mood for jest, Drako," said Lyon.

"This is preposterous!" Drako exclaimed, feigning pain and sorrow. "He was overcome by envy at my charms and prowess. He attacked me in a fit of jealousy, cutting off my arm without provocation."

The dragon clan representative frowned, scrutinizing the scene and the individuals involved. Lyon's group felt the weight of the situation, knowing that this version of events could seriously tarnish Lyon's reputation and lead to severe consequences.

Valerius's voice was as authoritative as his stance, his words echoing through the tense air. "In the eyes of the Wyrmheart Clan, harming a young master is an act of aggression against the entire clan. You shall answer for this grievance."

Lyon remained unfazed, his gaze steady and unyielding. "Your young master lied, the proof is the silence of the crowd. They dare not to voice out their opinions because doing so would implicate them into this whirlpool... and for what, for someone they barely know."

Valerius's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "The Wyrmheart Clan does not entertain defiance. We value honor, respect, and order. Come willingly, and perhaps the situation can be mitigated, and by that, I mean a proper death."

Valerius's intention was clear; Lyon could either face the consequences through a proper process or meet his fate right there and then. Drako was elated at this prospect, relishing the thought of Lyon's potential demise. 

The situation was at a precipice, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Lyon's resolve and Valerius's determination clashed, each unwilling to yield to the other's demands. The fate of Lyon and the impending clash of clans teetered on a delicate edge. However, Lyon was not one to be easily intimidated, especially when faced with a threat to his life.

Lyon furrowed his brows, retorting with a voice that carried a cold edge, "You think you're the only one with a protector, Drako? You believe I wouldn't dare to offend the Wrymheart Clan?"

A sudden shift in the atmosphere gripped the mountain. The suspense was palpable, an impending clash of formidable forces. But what went unnoticed was the subtle change in dynamics. It was Kesya, Lyon's fierce protector and loyal companion, who seized the moment.

Kesya's grin turned cold and calculating. Her presence shifted, becoming more commanding and dread-inducing. "Pipsqueak," she sneered, her voice cutting through the tension like a sharp blade, "you dare threaten my young master?"

A transformation unfolded, her hair now a deep vantablack, and she stood with an imposing air that sent shivers down spines. The mountain itself seemed to bend to her will, caught under her terrifying aura. The balance was tipping, and Kesya had become an unyielding force to be reckoned with.

The young masters were all acutely aware of the oppressive aura Kesya emanated. The atmosphere teetered on the edge of an impending storm. However, in the midst of this tension, a singular moment sent shivers down Liam's spine. Liam's keen perception caught a distinct presence behind Valerius

"What the..." His pupils shrank as he recognized the figure—it was the same insane beggar.

A surge of alarm coursed through him as he watched in horror. In the blink of an eye, like a phantom, the beggar's hand pierced Valerius's heart from behind. The shock and terror in Valerius's eyes were palpable before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

The beggar vanished as quickly as he had come, disappearing like a fleeting shadow, leaving the young masters and onlookers in a state of shock and disbelief. The game had drastically changed, and an air of unease settled over the mountain.

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