The knight collapsed onto his knees, his body finally giving in to exhaustion. His sword slipped from his trembling fingers, clattering against the cold ground. His breaths were ragged, his mind struggling to process everything that had just happened.
Keon, however, was unmoved.
He barely spared the knight a glance before speaking in his usual calm tone.
"Your spear is about three blocks away. You can still go and get it."
The knight flinched. Keon's voice wasn't mocking, nor was it reassuring—it was simply a detached statement of fact.
As if the knight's survival was entirely his own problem now.
Keon turned away, already losing interest. He had more important things to think about—like experimenting with Rift Storage further.
But then—
A flicker of movement in his peripheral vision.
—He was surrounded.
Keon stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing slightly as figures emerged from the dense fog.
Dozens of soldiers encircled him from all sides, weapons drawn. The air grew tense as two distinct groups became visible—
Human knights clad in pristine gold-white armor, identical to the one the knight wore.
And—
Elven warriors draped in elegant green-white armor, their bows already drawn and aimed at him.
A silent standoff followed.
The humans bore a holy radiance, their presence exuding discipline and righteousness. Meanwhile, the elves moved with fluid precision, their gazes cold and calculating.
Keon scanned them all, noting their positioning, their breathing, their intent. They weren't attacking yet.
Which meant one thing.
They didn't know what he was.
But they were wary. Very wary.
One of the human knights, likely a commander, took a step forward, his grip firm on his sword. His sharp eyes flicked between Keon and the fallen knight.
"…Step away from Sir Alric." His voice was calm, but firm. "Now."
Keon sighed internally.
Ah. So that's his name.
His gaze shifted slightly toward the knight—Alric—who still remained on his knees, head lowered, his breathing heavy.
Keon considered his options.
Fighting? Pointless. Even if they attacked, their weapons would simply phase through him.
Running? Unnecessary. He had no reason to flee—not yet.
Instead, Keon did what he did best.
He said nothing.
His silence rattled the soldiers more than any words could.
The elves exchanged wary glances, their grips tightening on their bows. The human knights took cautious steps closer, their formation tightening.
They were waiting for him to move first.
Keon simply crossed his arms and watched.
And in that moment—he realized something amusing.
They weren't just wary of him.
They were afraid.
Here's the continuation, keeping Keon's enigmatic presence strong while introducing the priestess and the Holy Goddess.
Keon's sharp eyes scanned his surroundings, and a realization settled in—
They feared him.
Even with their numbers, even with their weapons at the ready, they hesitated.
Amusing.
A faint smirk threatened to form, but Keon quickly suppressed it. Instead, he shifted gears—returning to his role.
With calculated grace, he gave a slow, silent bow.
Not one of submission.
But one of a dealer greeting his potential customers.
His expression remained unreadable, his movements deliberate. By not speaking, he ensured the mystery around him only deepened.
Who was he?
Why wasn't he afraid?
Why did he act like he held the power here?
Keon thrived on these questions—their uncertainty gave him control.
Rising from his bow, his gaze flickered toward the elves. Their faces were hidden beneath sleek, silver helmets, but the slender, pointed ears protruding from the sides confirmed their race.
Elves.
They were taller than the average human, their posture unnaturally stiff—disciplined but also... wary. Their bows remained drawn, but their fingers were tense, not fully relaxed on the strings. Hesitation.
Good.
Keon had just begun analyzing their ranks further when—
A presence stepped forward.
From between the knights and the elves, a woman emerged.
Her robes flowed like liquid gold, woven with divine symbols and holy scripture. A luminous white veil partially obscured her features, but Keon could still see her piercing blue eyes—eyes that held both faith and authority.
She wasn't just any priest.
She was a High Priestess.
Stopping a few steps before him, she gently pressed her hands together in front of her chest and whispered a prayer.
"Oh, sacred light of Aelthiria, may your gaze shine upon this unknown soul and reveal the truth that lies within."
Keon raised an eyebrow slightly.
Aelthiria, huh?
So that was the name of their Holy Goddess.
Aelthiria—the Goddess of Radiance and Judgment.
The moment the priestess finished her prayer, she lifted her chin, her gaze locking onto Keon's with unwavering resolve.
Then, in a voice filled with faith and pride, she spoke:
"Who are you?"
Her words rang with authority, not a mere question but a demand.
"Speak now, in the name of the Holy Goddess Aelthiria."
The soldiers around her straightened, their grips on their weapons tightening. The air grew heavier, their anticipation thick.
Keon simply stood there. Silent. Unmoving.
And for a brief moment, he considered his next move.
Should he answer?
Or… should he let the silence answer for him again?
Here's Part 3, incorporating both mystery and comedy while keeping Keon's proud, playfully dramatic persona intact.
Keon stood there, facing the priestess, knights, and elves who all waited for his answer.
The air was tense. The goddess's name had been invoked.
Any ordinary person would feel pressured.
But Keon?
He was having way too much fun.
His mind drifted back to something the knight—Alric—had called him earlier.
"Are you one of the Ancient Cursed Beings?!"
At the time, Keon had ignored it. But now?
Now it sounded useful.
A smirk tugged at his lips. He straightened his back, crossing his arms as if he were some otherworldly entity, ancient and unknowable.
Then, in a deep, cryptic tone, he finally spoke:
"I am who remains… because I am the forgotten one."
Silence.
The elves subtly adjusted their stances, their bows lowering ever so slightly—uncertain.
The knights shifted uneasily, exchanging wary glances. Was this… an actual cursed being?
And the priestess?
Her expression barely wavered, but Keon caught the flicker of doubt in her eyes.
Perfect.
Keon kept his composure on the outside, standing tall like a legendary figure of old.
But inside?
He was giddy.
'That was cool as hell.'
His inner child was practically rolling on the floor, cheering. "I sounded like a final boss just now!"
The sheer satisfaction of seeing these warriors struggle to process his words made him want to keep going.
But before he could revel in his self-proclaimed legendary status, Alric—the knight he had saved—finally lifted his head.
His face was pale, his voice shaky.
"T-Then… that means…"
Keon turned his gaze toward him, expectant.
Alric swallowed hard.
"…You must be… a being who defies fate itself…!"
Keon blinked.
'Huh?'
That was not what he expected.
But before he could react—
The elves and knights collectively inhaled sharply.
And then, in eerie unison—
They all took a step back.
Keon's mind screeched to a halt.
'Wait, wait, wait—
Did they just level up my fake title?!'
His intention had been to sound cool—but these people were running with it!
The priestess, now staring at Keon with a mixture of awe and fear, pressed her hands together in prayer.
"…A Forgotten One, beyond time's grasp… What does the Holy Goddess Aelthiria wish for us to do?"
Keon internally panicked.
'WAIT. HOLD ON. I was just messing around!'
But on the outside?
He simply stood there. Silent.
Mysterious.
As if he were above such mortal concerns.
And because of that, the misunderstanding only deepened.