The man gestured with his hands as he spoke, his tone growing more fervent.
"These four divine vessels—Sky Dragon, Fire Phoenix, Water Serpent, and Earth Lion—bestowed their powers upon chosen individuals, creating the Soul Guardians. They are the protectors of balance, wielding unimaginable power to shape the fate of the world."
Guardians, huh? So anyone can inherit these powers? What a convenient recruitment pitch, Arlon thought wryly.
As the man spoke, Arlon's attention drifted briefly to Dimitri, who was brewing tea at a nearby side table. Dimitri's movements were precise, but his sharp green eyes flicked toward the Pry members now and then, his distaste barely concealed.
Flutter—
["Complete nonsense! My Lord isn't foolish enough to believe this drivel."—Dimitri's ready to pounce if they try anything funny."]
Arlon gave Dimitri a slight nod, silently signaling him to stay calm.
The robed man pressed on, his voice taking on an almost theatrical cadence. "Celestia, one of these great gods, sacrificed herself to protect humanity from an ancient evil. Her powers were passed down through a sacred bloodline, ensuring that her descendants could continue her work."
Dimitri's jaw clenched as he poured tea for the guests, though his face remained impassive. Arlon caught the briefest flash of frustration in his eyes and almost laughed.
Oh, I know that look. He's seconds away from declaring this all a sham.
The man leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. "Your noble lineage, my Lord, is entwined with this legacy."
Arlon arched an eyebrow, intrigued but skeptical. "Oh? And what does that mean exactly?"
The man's face lit up, his passion renewed. "With your lineage and the Pry's guidance, you could become a guardian of unparalleled strength—one who could rise above the nobles who seek to control you!"
Before Arlon could respond, Dimitri interjected, his voice sharp. "I beg your pardon—"
Arlon raised a hand, cutting him off with a calm but icy look. "Dimitri. Let them finish."
The robed man pressed on, undeterred. "With your power, my Lord, you could surpass even Grand Duke Ciel. You could become one with the Soul Sky Guardian and reshape this world."
Arlon's mind raced, recalling how the original Arlon had been swayed by this very speech. It felt so scripted, so predictable—like a poorly written plotline he already knew by heart.
He leaned forward slightly, a slow smile spreading across his face.
"Your proposal…" His tone dripped with sarcasm. "…is absolute bullst**"
"..."
The room fell silent, every eye fixated on him, their expressions a mix of shock and disbelief.
The room froze, every eye on him as his words echoed through the chamber. The robed figures shifted uncomfortably, shock written on their faces. Dimitri's gaze was hidden behind his lowered head, but Arlon could feel his approval radiating through the silence.
"Wait, what?" the robed man stammered, clearly taken aback.
The robed men stared at Arlon, their surprise palpable. The atmosphere in the dining room shifted, tension hanging in the air like an impending storm. Yet, instead of answering their question, Arlon merely remarked, "The weather has changed; it seems it's going to rain… very hard." His tone was casual, but a deeper meaning lay beneath his words, one that hinted at the brewing chaos he sensed.
Before the guests could respond, a servant slipped into the room, whispering something to Dimitri before departing. Dimitri's expression shifted slightly, a subtle sign of relief crossing his face.
"The guests' broken carriage has been fixed," he announced, his voice steady and formal. Both Arlon and Dimitri sighed in unison, the weight of the situation momentarily lifting.
Arlon rose from his chair, his gaze cold and unyielding. "This conversation is over. Dimitri, see to it that our 'guests' are escorted out once their carriage is repaired."
The Pry leader didn't falter. Instead, he rose as well, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips. "As you wish, my Lord. But remember this: even gods can only wait so long."
The words lingered in the air, thick with hidden meaning. Arlon held his ground, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of unease stirred in his chest.
As the Pry members left the dining hall, Dimitri stepped closer, his voice low. "My Lord, are you certain it was wise to let them leave so easily?"
Arlon didn't reply immediately. His eyes drifted to the golden screen, which had begun to flicker erratically in the corner of his vision. Words appeared, jagged and fractured:
["—The chain tightens. The path splinters."]
A chill ran down his spine. The game was changing, and he was no longer certain he understood the rules.
"Don't worry, Dimitri," he said at last, his voice steady. "I'll deal with them when the time comes."
But as he spoke, Arlon couldn't shake the feeling that the Pry's visit was only the beginning—and that the first true test of his new life was already upon him.
Arlon watch them leave the villa through the window, It's time to get ready.
———
The night came, and Arlon was ready to sleep when Dimitri entered his room, holding another cup of black tea. Arlon blinked in surprise, wondering how he had managed to endure the bitter concoction for an entire day—this must be a new record.
Before Arlon could voice his confusion, Dimitri set the cup down on the table with his usual calm demeanor. "I thought you might like some more, my lord," he said, his voice steady but laced with concern.
Arlon opened his mouth to question him about it but paused when he noticed the serious look on Dimitri's face.
"Are you going to accept the 'guest's' offer in the future?" Dimitri asked, clearly still wary of Arlon's judgment.
Flop—
Arlon chuckled lightly, shaking his head.
"No, I'm not interested in joining a cult; that's just not my style." His tone was a mix of seriousness and playfulness, which he emphasized by leaning back slightly in his chair.
"I'm not going to rely on someone to gain what I want. It's best to act on your own at times." He took a sip of his tea, trying to maintain an air of elegance despite the grimace threatening to break through.
Dimitri raised an eyebrow, surprised by his young lord's decisive response. He bowed his head respectfully, though a flicker of relief crossed his expression. "I see. Then have a good rest, young lord," he replied, his voice steady and formal.
Before he left the room, Dimitri set the teacup down on the table with care, the steam curling up like a whisper of warning.
He paused for a moment, as if contemplating whether to say more, but ultimately chose silence and stepped out, closing the door behind him.
Once Dimitri was gone, Arlon couldn't help but spill some of the tea on the table as he took another sip. The taste had changed even more strongly, like a bitter storm brewing inside the cup. He grimaced, shaking his head in disbelief.
"What kind of sorcery is this?" he muttered, setting the cup down with a thud. "Does it get worse every time?"
With a resigned huff, Arlon stood and swiftly changed out of his formal attire, slipping into a simple black long-sleeve shirt and fitted pants that allowed for easier movement.
He pulled on a robe that draped around him comfortably, its fabric a dark shadow against the dim light of the room.
"That's right, Dimitri. Be more suspicious of me," he muttered to himself, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I'm not the type of person to sit around and do nothing." Arlon understood that Dimitri was still wary, unable to fully open up to him after everything that had happened, but he also recognized that his loyal servant would never betray or disobey him.
He turned off the lights, casting the room into a soft twilight, then approached the balcony window. With a steadying breath, he opened it, the hinges creaking softly in the silence. He adjusted the robe to cover his head, creating a shadowy veil around his face as he stepped out onto the balcony.
Step— Step—
The villa's silence was broken only by the faint rustle of Arlon's robes as he slipped into the night. He moved with purpose, each step carrying him closer to his goal: Lawrence's hometown. If the Pry were after the Soul Sky Guardian, he needed to act before it was too late.
"Time to make my move," he thought, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him.
Arlon stepped quietly into the cool night air, his heart racing with a mix of exhilaration and apprehension. The villa loomed behind him, its stone walls casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. Just like a scene from a story, right? he thought, a wry smile creeping across his face.
Step— Step—
With each careful step, he slipped from the confines of his home like a shadow, fully aware of the landscape around him. He recalled every inch of the villa and the meticulously arranged schedules of the guards patrolling the grounds.
Woooosh—
The air was thick with anticipation as he navigated through the maze of shadows. It was a risky venture, but one he felt compelled to take. What would the real Arlon think of me right now?