"Leslie?"
Her eyes darted around the room before sharply fixing on the only man left standing uninjured.
With an effortless grace, she stepped into the now-ruined shop. Her long hair flowed behind her, and her mature yet undeniably attractive figure she closed in towards Arthur.
"You're stronger than I expected," she said with a teasing chuckle.
Arthur's eyes, however, remained cold and unfazed. Outwardly, his expression was neutral, but inside, he was certainly irritated.
'This bitch… I know for a fact she's been enjoying the whole fight from outside, and only now she shows herself.'
Suppressing his thoughts, Arthur finally spoke. "So now you finally feel safe enough to reveal yourself," he taunted.
"Oh my, you knew?" she responded with an exaggerated expression. "But why do you sound so angry? It's not my job to help you, right?"
A teasing smile played on her lips as she leaned closer to Arthur. "Or did my little dating example last time really make you think we were together?"
Chuckle
Her teasing was obvious to anyone, even Arthur's expression remained emotionless and cold. Yet, Claire couldn't help but bite her lower lip. An uncomfortable feeling crept up on her as Leslie closed the distance to her master.
Why?
'Why does this bother me so much?' she thought, as her heart weaver. Quickly, she shook her head, trying to dismiss the feeling. 'No, it's just exhaustion from the fight. That's all. I'm just being overly cautious.'
She cleared her thoughts, or so she told herself, and silently resumed her position at Arthur's side.
"You… You're the broker from Stafen Street, aren't you?"
A voice called out suddenly, cutting through the awkward silence. Which made all three of them to turn toward the source.
Moments of not finding anything, minutes later the shopkeeper emerged from the shadows. His pace quickened until he was running, a faint smile lighting up his face as he stopped just in front of Leslie.
"You… Leslie, right?"
"Yes? How can I help you, mister?" she replied, her brows furrowing in mild confusion.
Did she know him?
"I overheard your conversation, and it looks like he's your client?"
"Yes, he is?"
The shopkeeper's expression shifted, panic creeping into his features as he finally blurted out what he'd been holding back.
"Your client was responsible for my shop ending up in this state, and I don't think they have the money to pay," he stammered. "I'm just a poor merchant, and I heard it's in your policy to sponsor damages."
A chuckle escaped Leslie's lips. "Yes, it is, but only when it happens during a mission. And today's events weren't one of those."
All the hope the shopkeeper had vanished instantly. He knew Leslie wasn't someone he could argue with. If she said no, there was nothing he could do about it.
Resigned, he was about to walk away when Leslie's gaze flickered to Arthur's face. She noticed the faintest hint of irritation there, which only made her smile wider.
Quickly turning back to the shopkeeper, she said, "Maybe we can do something. I'll just deduct the damages from this young man's next pay."
Her tone was teasing, but contrary to her expectations, Arthur's expression remained completely unfazed.
"Do as you like," Arthur replied in a cold tone.
"Tsk, you're no fun,"
The shopkeeper's face lit up with renewed hope. "Really? You'll pay for the damages?"
"Yes. Send the bills with details to the bar,"
'When will she go away? Time is running out. I don't want to waste the summon I worked so hard for on this idiot reason', Arthur thought as his neutral mask began to wear off with the passing time.
Finally, he spoke up. "Leslie, I'm tired from the fight, so I'll take my leave. The body is of use to me, so I'll be taking it as well."
Leslie blinked, slightly taken aback by his directness. "Oh, okay! You could've just told me earlier."
Without wasting another moment, Arthur gestured to Claire to pick up the dead body. The two of them quickly exited the shop, leaving Leslie behind with a confused frown.
"Am I missing something?"
✾✾✾
As the council member reached the entrance of the great tower, they couldn't believe it.
Their eyes widened in shock at the vast, unreal sight before them. It was an impossible scenario.
Even their most terrifying nightmares couldn't compare to the grandeur of what they were witnessing.
Giant flying ships floated in the sky above the grand tower. The immortal ships, legends they had only read about, were now before their very eyes. Beside these ships were countless individuals walking on air, their sheer numbers covering the vast sky, their gazes looking down as if on insignificant ants.
"So many Grandmasters?"
Roar!!
As astonished as they were, a bone-chilling roar made them turn toward its source. "Th-The…"
"Impossible!"
They couldn't believe their eyes.
The beings they hailed as gods, the ones they prayed to, were now before them: dragons.
Two enormous black and white dragons loomed, each bearing the flag of their archenemies, the Volfords, tethered to their necks.
As head council member, Dracula shouldered the responsibility, and though his instincts screamed at him to run, he forced himself forward. Every cell in his body screamed in terror, the godly pressure exuded by the dragons enough to shake even his very soul despite all his years of cultivation.
Pulling himself together, Dracula focused his eyes on the man standing tall aboard the lead ship. It was a familiar, yet detestable face. The man, with a wide, mocking smirk, finally spoke.
"Greetings, Vampire King."
"Ragnar!"
Ragnar let out another mocking chuckle, his gaze shifting to the general standing frozen behind Dracula. "Ohh, General, how have you been? For the gift you gave the Volfords, I have prepared a return gift for you."
With a snap of his fingers, eight massive pillars rose behind Ragnar.
Each one displayed a bare, tortured body of a beastman. Dracula and the other council members couldn't recognize them, but the general did.
His face turned ugly, streams of tears falling from his eyes as he recognized each face. They were his family, the only reason he had crafted this strategy. And now, because of his foolish plan, they had paid the gruesome price.
Overcome with emotion, he screamed, "Ragnar, I won't forgive you!"
"Shut up, bastard!" Ragnar's mocking laugh turned into a cold sneer as his gaze returned to the council members. "What do you take the Volfords for, huh? We are the clan that survived Ragnarok. What were you then? If you had just known your place, so many wouldn't have had to die."
Ragnar's eyes narrowed, his tone chilling as he continued. "Now, I'll give you a choice. From the twelve demihuman races the council represents, I will allow only one to pass their legacy forward. Choose."
"Bastard!"
✾✾✾
{A/N}
Have to rush the end a little but hope you enjoyed the chapter.
Thanks for reading and don't forget to Vote!
Peace out!!