11 A Small Request
At that very moment, while Leona was casting her spell, the enigmatic leader of the black-clothed men concealed his actions with a clandestine chant of his own.
"Control Element: Metal Armor!" The incantation echoed through the air, and in a flash, a brilliant white sphere materialized from the depths of the surrounding dimensions. It swiftly took shape, forming a formidable suit of armor crafted entirely from gleaming metal. The armor's surface mirrored the assault of Bastian's crew, deflecting the majority of their attacks with ease.
The astonishing speed at which this transpired left the onlookers momentarily stunned, their reactions lagging behind the swift manifestation of the protective armor.
With their leader now shielded from harm, the two black-clothed men redirected their attention towards the lone member of Bastian's crew who stood isolated and vulnerable.
On Bastian's side, five determined men, including Bastian himself, engaged in a fierce clash with the leader and his accomplices. Meanwhile, on the opposing side, a single member of Bastian's crew valiantly confronted the two menacing figures donned in black.
The situation grew increasingly perilous for the lone crew member, and with a sense of urgency, three of his comrades who had initially failed in their ambush sprinted back to shield their imperiled ally.
Fortuitously, their timely arrival granted them a renewed advantage, outnumbering the black-clothed adversaries. The scales now tipped, with three of Bastian's crew pitted against two members of the sinister faction.
An impasse ensued, both parties locked in a precarious stalemate. One of Bastian's men lay unconscious, grievously wounded from the battle, while the black-clothed faction suffered the loss of one of their own, felled by Bastian's unyielding hand.
Meanwhile, Desmond, an observer from afar, bore witness to his first-ever magical skirmish in this unfamiliar world. Nervous anticipation mingled with a curiosity that compelled him to wonder what would unfold in the ensuing moments.
Simultaneously, a translucent screen materialized before Desmond's eyes, displaying detailed information about each combatant involved.
[ Name: ??? , ??? , ???
Gender: Male, Male, Male
Age: 30, 31, 32
Race: Human, Human, Human
Class: 1st Swordsman, 1st Swordsman, 1st Swordsman
Occupation: Imperial Empire Assassin, Imperial Empire Assassin, Imperial Empire Assassin
Unique Energy: 10.95, 11.31, 11.68
Strength: 22.00 , 23.00, 21.00
Agility: 20.00, 20.00, 20.00
Stamina: 2.00, 2.00, 2.00
Trait Effect:
* Greed (Common)
* Cruelty (Common)
* Lust (Common) ]
To Desmond's surprise, most of the combatants shared the same class as his father and their crew. However, his astonishment peaked when he discovered that the duo who had fiercely battled five of his father's crewmates were, in fact, second-class swordsmen.
In a stunning turn of events, the tides had shifted. His father and the rest of the crew had been rejuvenated by his mother's enchantments. Even the deep wounds inflicted by the dagger had mysteriously vanished.
But the Imperial Empire Assassins! The revelation left Desmond dumbfounded, a storm of emotions raging within him.
The gravity of his family's transgressions against the kingdom's higher echelons seemed to have escalated to a critical juncture, prompting the dispatch of assassins to hunt them down.
Suddenly, fragmented memories surged through Desmond's mind, piecing together the words he had heard from the assassin's lips. He strained to recall, and finally, it dawned on him.
A former noble!
His initial assumptions had been completely askew. It appeared that his mother carried something of paramount importance, a burden that had triggered the kingdom's relentless pursuit of her and their entire family.
Then, piercing through the suspense-laden air, a voice from beyond the dimensions reverberated, commanding attention.
"Expert Spell: Magic Break!" The declaration resounded, resonating with a mix of authority and audacity. As the words materialized, the once ominously darkened sky that cloaked and isolated the realm began to crumble, giving way to a cascading collapse.
As Bastian and his group materialized back in the real world, their surroundings were transformed into a tense tableau. They found themselves encircled by a contingent of soldiers, their weapons poised with unwavering determination.
"Surrender now!" commanded an elderly man who stood at the forefront of the soldiers. Clad in a robe that exposed his robust chest, his white hair billowed in the air as he stroked his flowing beard, his piercing gaze shifting between Bastian and the black-clothed men.
"How intriguing. What brings these hounds of the Imperial Empire into my kingdom?!" The old man's words dripped with a mixture of curiosity and contempt as he locked his eyes on the leader of the black-clothed men.
Yet, in an unexpected turn of events, a sudden fear seemed to grip the assassins, causing them to scatter one by one. The leader desperately attempted to cast a spell, but the next moment sent shockwaves through the onlookers, their gazes now filled with awe and reverence directed towards the old man.
"Expert Spell: Bind!" With an authoritative decree, a chain materialized from the surrounding ethereal white energy. It swiftly ensnared the entirety of the leader's body, draining the color from his complexion in an instant. Despite his piercing glare filled with murderous intent, every attempt he made to invoke his powers was futile, as the energy rebelled against his commands.
"Soldiers, apprehend the others!" The soldiers who had encircled Bastian and his family seemed to vanish in a blur, their movements akin to those of superhumans as they sprinted with astounding speed.
Desmond found himself gazing at the old man, his emotions in tumultuous disarray. Uncertainty gnawed at him, torn between the urge to scan the enigmatic figure and the awareness that, as a mere infant, he posed no real threat.
"System, scan that person," Desmond commanded hesitantly, his voice betraying his trepidation.
[Scanning the target...]
The wait for the scanning results proved to be a nerve-wracking experience for Desmond. The mere presence of the old man had left an indelible impression of sheer power and prowess, creating a sense of apprehension within him.
"Hello, Lady Leona." Amidst Desmond's internal turmoil, the old man greeted his mother, who appeared visibly anxious, stealing glances at her husband.
"Hello, Grandmaster Weston. It is a pleasure to meet you," Bastian, understanding his wife's unease, stepped forward nervously. Aware of the tense atmosphere, he subtly signaled his crew to prepare for any sudden escalation, their senses heightened in anticipation of an imminent battle.
The name 'Grandmaster Weston' had reverberated throughout human society, his reputation far-reaching. None could forget his imposing figure or the magnitude of his accomplishments, which had earned him his exalted status.
"Hoho, you recognize me, young man," Weston chuckled lightly, his gaze shifting towards Leona, who respectfully bowed in his presence.
"I apologize for the disturbance we have caused. We were careless, allowing the Imperial Empire's dogs to wreak havoc within our borders," Weston spoke, his gaze momentarily falling upon the young girl concealed behind her father.
"May I inquire as to your name?" Weston inquired, his curiosity piqued.
Caught off guard by the weight of the moment and the overwhelming presence of Weston, Bastian momentarily forgot the most basic etiquette in conversation. "My apologies. I am Bastian, Leona's husband, and these are our children, Alice and Desmond."
Bastian's heart skipped a beat as Weston's inquisitive eyes lingered on his daughter and son. His gaze instinctively shifted beyond Weston, where an imposing array of soldiers stood, fully clad in armor, their weapons trained on them, silently conveying a warning against any rash actions.
It appeared that the initial misunderstanding had been resolved, and the captured assassins were now under the control of the soldiers, their weapons lowered in a sign of newfound peace.
However, Bastian couldn't shake the feeling that something significant hung in the air when Weston's piercing gaze shifted towards Desmond, his son.
"Hoho. Your son seems to possess a unique destiny intertwined with our kingdom. How about we engage in a conversation about your family's future plans?" Weston suggested, a glimmer of intrigue dancing in his eyes.
Bastian's parents exchanged a meaningful glance, their unspoken communication conveying the weight of their predicament. It was evident to Desmond that they had little choice but to accept Weston's proposition.
They found themselves in unfamiliar territory, with Weston having just come to their aid against the assassins. It would be deemed impolite and unwise to reject his seemingly modest request.
