Epilogue 1 - Start Of A New Era (1)

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, a maid delivered news of a letter that had arrived for me. The air hung heavy with anticipation as I heard the message, and a weary sigh escaped my lips. "I knew it," I mumbled to myself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. My hands clenched so tightly that they turned bone-white. "Those bastards failed miserably. I didn't expect much, but this... this is a whole new level of disappointment." Leaning against the circular table, I propped my elbow, my hand finding its way to my forehead as I released a heavy sigh into the dimming room.

Addressing the maid stationed outside, I instructed her to dispose of the letter in the trash. The contents were all too predictable – just another futile attempt at a woman's feeble expression of affection. Such sentiments were an unwelcome intrusion on my precious time.

"You're ruthless... Casting aside a letter from an admirer into the trash," a voice echoed from the opposite side of the room. The speaker, confined to a wheelchair, was shrouded in bandages from head to toe.

"If you think tossing a letter is cold, you should witness how I shatter a woman's heart," I retorted. Shifting the conversation, I turned my attention to the man in the wheelchair. "What brings you here? Judging by your discontented demeanor, I assume your exchange with Eclair didn't unfold as planned?"

"Exactly. Well, I didn't expect much from a tête-à-tête with that barbaric woman fixated on finding her missing brother," the man responded, his tone reflecting a tinge of resignation. "You know the saying – don't harbor high expectations if you wish to avoid disappointment. Looks like that adage isn't doing you any favors, though."

"...Get straight to it. I don't have the patience for a drawn-out conversation."

"You're getting more impatient these days..."

"Given my current workload, my patience wears thinner than paper."

"Well, what did you expect? You're a professor. It's still hard to fathom that someone of your stature, renowned in the underworld, would choose such a profession. What's the story behind your choice, Sesillian? Or should I stick with Professor Sesillian now?"

"Sesillian is fine. I'm not exactly enamored with this profession anyway."

I cast a glance at the man before me, once hailed as the strongest force in the underworld. Witnessing his reduced state was genuinely startling. The one who brought him down was a man of many faces. Some knew him as The Man With The Comedy Mask, while others dubbed him The Playwright, The Showman, The Scriptwriter, or The Virtuoso. The power he wielded left the man in front of me utterly powerless. No, it wasn't a matter of standing a chance; he couldn't stand at all. Personally, this figure, known as the man with many faces, seemed like a fantastical creation to me.

"I'm here to divulge the very reason that brought me to you, Sesillian," the man declared. "I've come seeking your aid."

"Aid? For what?"

"To dominate this world," he uttered, leaning in. "The world is in flux, undergoing a metamorphosis. A new era is unfurling, and it's only a matter of time before it sweeps over us. That's why we must seize this moment before rivals hinder our ascent."

"Is that why you've been collaborating with Norman Amarathea lately?"

"Amarathea serves as a valuable pawn. He's a master of his craft, deeply entwined with the underworld's heavyweights. Able to traverse towns without arousing suspicion, he's knee-deep in human trafficking. A crucial source for acquiring human workforces—slaves, essentially. His proficiency is such that he abducts scores of people unnoticed. However, relying on him in the new era? Impossible. Amarathea is as cunning as a snake, but that's the extent of his cunning. It's only a matter of time before that snake bites its own tail. That's why I need something mightier than a snake. I need a dragon. I need the leader of the Eclipse. I need you, Sesillian."

His singular eye, untouched by the swathes of bandages, locked onto me with an intensity that cut through the shadows.

"What's in it for me?" I said.

"All the desires you crave."

A sinister grin etched its way across my face. "Then," I declared, fixing my gaze upon him. "Bring me Charlotte Sierra. Deliver her to me, living and breathing. Only then will I acquiesce."

Under the veils of bandages concealing his face, I couldn't discern his expression, but a malevolent satisfaction seemed to lurk within. "Consider it done."

 ***

I found myself on the run from the magic knights summoned when I looted the national bank of Milham, two hefty sacks of gold in tow. Truth be told, I didn't really need all this cash; I just wanted to have a bit of fun.

In the chase, one of them managed to catch up, blocking my path.

"Stop right there!"

It was a woman adorned in the standard uniform of a magic knight—a black military garb adorned with glistening gold buttons, each bearing the insignia of a magic knight: a shield adorned with a dragon design. With black hair cascading and piercing black eyes, she wielded a katana in her grasp.

"My name is Robyn Lockes, and I am a Grade Four Magic Knight! I have come to stop you!"

"A Grade Four, you say?" I remarked, genuinely intrigued. "Well, well, this is quite the surprise. The first time I've had my path blocked, and by a Grade Four magic knight, no less. However, much to your dismay, missus, I'm afraid I can't linger. I have an appointment to keep."

Swiftly, a cloud of smoke enveloped me, obscuring my entire form. She likely assumed I was using the smoke as cover for a hasty escape, as she roared and charged towards me, attempting to skewer me with that katana. Regrettably for her, all she managed to pierce was the smoke. Physically impossible, as stabbing smoke typically lacks the resistance felt when impaling someone. She glanced back at the dissipating smoke, bewildered. By the time it cleared, I was long gone.

"W-What...?"

Looking down at her from atop a nearby rooftop, I couldn't help but mutter to myself, "Seems like she'll be something..."

Turning around, I vanished from the scene. Tomorrow, news would reveal that a substantial amount of money mysteriously appeared in front of an orphanage. But that was a story for tomorrow. Tonight, I had something else in mind.

When I arrived at Leonamon's, I immediately sought out Amon in the likely spot she'd be. As expected, she was with Gabrielle.

"Welcome back, Master," Amon greeted, standing up from her seat and bowing.

Gabrielle, on the other hand, didn't bother standing and simply remarked, "You finally returned."

I approached them, licking my lips. I hadn't tried this before, so there was a fear of messing up, but the beauty of being inexperienced had its charm, didn't it? Soon enough, I'd be well-versed in the matter.

I took hold of Amon's chin, leaning in to capture her lips. Gabrielle clicked her tongue, observing us. I released Amon's lips and turned to Gabrielle, gesturing for her to stand up.

"What... What are you planning to do?"

I remained silent, continuing to beckon her to stand.

Amon caught on, gasping, "I... I think Master is going to do it."

"Do... it? You mean...?"

Amon nodded at Gabrielle, indicating they had discussed the possibility of this happening in the future.

"...B-But I'm not ready yet," Gabrielle hesitated, her cheeks flushing. "And I'm embarrassed to do it."

"I'm embarrassed too, but Master seems to want it now," Amon replied, a subtle excitement in her voice.

Gabrielle shot me a sultry glance through the lenses of her glasses, a mixture of defiance and allure. "Pervert," she muttered under her breath, before sighing and rising to her feet. She approached me with an air of reluctant curiosity, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me into a heated kiss. Our tongues engaged in a sensual dance, swirling and intertwining in an intoxicating rhythm.

Not wanting to be left out, Amon joined the passionate embrace. The three of us now connected through the artful choreography of our entwined tongues. My hands boldly ventured, exploring the unique textures of their asses – Amon's plump and irresistibly soft, Gabrielle's less plump but equally alluring. I felt the undeniable twitch of my dick in my pants as I indulged in the exploration of their tongues and asses.

After a while, we reluctantly pulled away, our intoxicated gazes and heavy breaths revealing the intensity of the moment.

"...Uhm, Master? I have a room for you... to do this kind of thing," Amon suggested, her voice laced with a lingering desire.

I grinned at her, saying, "Why don't you lead the way, then?"

With an unmistakable arousal in her expression, Amon took a step back, gesturing for me to follow as she began walking. Gabrielle cast me a longing look before joining Amon, trailing closely behind. I indulged in the enticing sight of their swaying asses as they led the way.

I was certain this night would be etched into memory.