1102 March That Sweep Storms
Lyon gripped the mallet tightly, his fingers curling around it. It was a simple yet profound tool, a conduit for the ancient power that lay dormant within the Gong of Thousand Lords. As he held it, he could feel the weight of the possibilities it held, the choices that lood before him.
Kesya furrowed her brows and pointed towards the horizon where a vast army was moving towards them. The rising sun glinted off their armor, their expressions masked in grim determination.
"First thing at dawn, they didn't dawdle at least," Kesya smirked.
Lyon stepped forward, every move echoing with Maria's voice, guiding him through a flood of mories. Each step was a dance in the rain, a shared laughter until tears flowed, a hidden waterfall discovered, a secret kept just between them. His path was painted with their monts - the joy, the sorrow, the love they'd shared.
"The day you taught to dance in the rain," Maria's voice whispered as he took another step. Her laughter echoed in his ears.
Karina nodded, her stance firm and her fists gleaming. "Let's give them a warm welco."
The gong stood before him, a relic of forgotten legends, casting a long shadow in the early morning light. As Lyon gripped the mallet tightly, he felt the weight of his determination.
Cecile and Selena, loyal and determined, stood shoulder to shoulder behind Lyon. The approaching army was daunting, and the absence of Liu, the missing mber of their trusted team, was keenly felt.
Cecile couldn't help but sigh, her voice tinged with a hint of longing, "This would be so much easier with Liu here."
Selena, the embodint of a cold and calculating warrior, nodded in agreent. Her eyes were sharp, scanning the advancing troops with precision. "Indeed, but for now, it's us four against them, this will be their last regret."
As the sun rose higher in the sky, Ardan and Drako, along with the advancing Wrymheart clan, finally got a clear view of the young man standing in front of the ancient relic, the Gong of the Thousand Lords.
Drako's eyes glead with malicious anticipation as he pointed toward Lyon. "That's him, father! There's the one who dared to chop off my arm."
Ardan, the patriarch of the Wrymheart clan, cast a stern gaze in Lyon's direction, his brows furrowing deeply. He took a deep breath, his voice booming across the distance, "No use in running away! Stay there and accept your death!"
The Wrymheart clan, crimson-armored and fierce, continued to advance with a war cry, converging on the young man before the ancient relic. However...
Lyon stood before the gong, a mont suspended in ti. His eyes remained closed, and he felt an indescribable connection to the world around him. It was as if the very air pulsed with Maria's presence, guiding him.
"Lyon," Maria's voice called out gently, like a soothing lody.
"Lyon!" The voice beca more animated, filled with joy and fondness.
"Lyon," this ti it was like a tender whisper, filled with warmth.
"Lyon!" Her voice shifted to a playful tone, teasing and affectionate.
"Lyon..." Now it was softer, like a lullaby, carrying him gently through the mont.
"Lyon!" A firr, more determined tone, urged him onward.
These different iterations of her voice encircled him, supporting him from all directions. It was as if Maria was there with him, in every tone and every note, guiding him toward the fateful strike of the gong.
Lyon stood there, the mallet held high above his head, bathed in the radiant morning sun. With a solemn voice, he whispered, "Maria."
As he uttered her na, the air crackled, the weight of his determination, the essence of an emperor's unyielding will, surged forth. It was a presence that rippled through the air, a commanding force that even reached the ears of those approaching from the Wrymheart clan.
The Wrymheart clan, despite their fierce deanor, faltered for a mont under this palpable, overwhelming aura.
Lyon swung the mallet with all his might, and it struck the Gong of the Thousand Lords with a resounding impact.
The sound was deafening, echoing throughout the realm as if a thousand lords were marching to the very end of the world. It was a sound that sent shockwaves across the land, vibrating through the very souls of those who heard it.
The Greenleaf clan, the Stormrider clan, and the Moonshadow clan, each with their young masters, were halted in their tracks as the sound reverberated.
Drako, Liam, Sylva, and Elara, the four young masters from each of these clans, found themselves unable to move, their faces etched with astonishnt. The sheer power of the sound and the energy it carried left them in a state of shock.
The onlookers, who had co to witness the confrontation, felt the vibration of the gong in their very bones. It was a mont that would be etched in the annals of history, as Lyon had called upon the Gong of the Thousand Lords, and its response had been nothing short of breathtaking.
Patriarch Thaedan of Greenleaf had his eyes widened, "That... that sound!"
Patriarch Oren stood up with his lips gaped, "Is this the Gong of the Thousand Lords?"
anwhile in the sky...
Drako gulped as every scale around his body rattled. "I-it can't be...!! F-Father...?"
Patriarch Ardan had his eyes widened as he saw the young man with his brows furrowed and challenged the entire structure of Second Hell. Not even he could surmount such prowess, it was an ancient relic ant for ceremonial.
Matriarch Seraphina of Moonshadow Clan stood up, "I can feel my whole bones shaking, that thunderous roar that could sweep the storm! It is to be, it has to be! The Gong of Thousand Lords. And who else? Who else but you could make such a loud arrival!"
Seraphina pierced the sky and her robe fluttered above her clan. "Co with , follow ! All of you! We have a great guest that requires attention, a man who stood alongside the Elven Emperor himself. He has returned! The Zodiac Emperor, Lyon Torga has graced us!"
Enjoy!!!
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