[A Few Hours Later]
Once the Guild had finished their surprisingly palatable meal of worms and maggots and engaged in discussions about the world's myriad wonders, they ventured further into the festival. The vibrant food market gradually gave way to the entertainment plaza, a spacious courtyard illuminated by lanterns and bustling with games and performers.
This section, mainly intended for children, was managed by the Red Phoenix Tribe. Their exceptional proficiency with fire magic made them the ideal choice for ensuring safety during the lively spectacles.
Firebreathers crafted mythical sky creatures from crimson flames, which soared above the buildings, mesmerizing the children below. On nearby stages, warriors clad in feathered robes and intricate masks wielded blazing spear tips in a ceremonial war dance. This proud display was intended to inspire the younger generation, who would one day take on the responsibilities of their elders.
However, none of these impressive sights truly captured Raiking's attention. Instead, he was intrigued by the sudden appearance of a familiar figure among a group of children gathered around a storyteller.
"Is that..." Ezmelral murmured in disbelief.
There, precariously seated on a small wooden stool struggling under his immense weight, was the Storm Dragon. Even more astonishing than the stool's endurance was the sight of toddlers surrounding the formidable beast. One child sat comfortably on his broad shoulder while two others nestled in his lap.
"What a peculiar sight..." Libinea whispered, blinking several times to confirm it wasn't an illusion.
Driven by genuine curiosity, Raiking approached to uncover what could have possibly tamed the Storm Dragon and captured his full attention. As he drew nearer, the resonant voice of an elderly storyteller became audible. The old man stood on a wooden crate, energetically waving a crudely painted stick in the air.
"And then!" the elderly man bellowed, casting a handful of spark-powder into a nearby brazier to add a dramatic touch. "Unable to endure her people's suffering any longer, our illustrious Queen resolved to leave the Shrine and face the Divine Realm herself!"
"She's so brave!" exclaimed a child from the Black Feather Tribe.
"Bravery is merely the start," the storyteller continued, his demeanor becoming increasingly animated. "She is also an unparalleled warrior! She stormed the celestial gates, releasing her fiery wrath upon the heavens, reducing any adversary to mere ashes!"
"Wow! So powerful!" a child from the Red Feather Tribe cheered.
"Indeed, she is!" the old man concurred, his voice suddenly adopting a somber tone. "And that is why the four Great Divine Generals felt compelled to descend and confront her..."
"Oh no!" a child from the Azure Feather Tribe cried out. "What did she do?!"
"Do you truly wish to know?" the old man asked, leaning in closer.
"YES!" the children shouted in unison.
The old man laughed heartily. "Very well, I'll tell you! She unleashed her Divine Stage power, conjuring a searing blade, and aimed it directly at the Divine Generals themselves. She declared words that would resonate in their memory forever: 'The Phoenix Tribe may be humble, but we are no cowards! Whether it be the Divine Realm or the Demon Clan, our flames will never be extinguished, no matter the adversary!'"
The silence was almost tangible as the children sat wide-eyed, eagerly awaiting their Queen's next move.
"Battling four, especially warriors at the Peak Divine Stage, is no trivial task! BUT! She is not just any warrior; she is Queen Libinea! She does not retreat! She does not plead! She ascends! And indeed she did, soaring toward them with the hopes of our people beneath her wings, defeating them one by one using the legendary battle arts of the Phoenix Kin!"
"Wow!!!"
As the old man continued to weave the legendary tale that enthralled the children—and the enormous Storm Dragon—Raiking and his Guild stood at the back of the crowd, notably less entertained.
Ezmelral tilted her head, her silver eyes devoid of expression.
"That's definitely not how it happened."
Libinea swiftly snapped open her fan, concealing her face behind it as a deep, burning flush of embarrassment spread from her neck to the tips of her ears. She remembered weeping in the mud with her wings torn off; this heroic retelling was pure agony to hear.
"Gaga!" Faye cheered, clapping her chubby hands in Raiking's arms, her eyes never leaving the storyteller's wild, dramatic gestures as he recounted the fabricated legend.
"Oh no, not you too..." Ezmelral sighed, shaking her head at the easily impressed baby.
"What of the Master?" the Storm Dragon suddenly exclaimed, his voice not carrying the weight of a fearsome, apocalyptic being capable of incinerating the village with a single breath. Instead, it resembled that of an engaged audience member, eager to hear the end of a fictional tale.
"I'm glad you asked... tall man," the storyteller replied, a puzzled expression momentarily crossing his aged face as he tried to comprehend the towering Storm Dragon's presence. However, noticing the three small children seated contentedly on the giant's lap and shoulder, he decided to set aside his curiosity and continue his enchanting story.
"As for Libinea's Great Master... Edward."
"Edward?" Raiking repeated, his voice entirely flat.
"Uh... no one actually knows your real name," Libinea quietly admitted from behind her fan.
"Now, now, Master," Ezmelral interjected, reaching up to gently tap his shoulder with her small fists. "Do not be upset. He is merely a mortal who has frequented too many taverns in his brief life."
Raiking remained silent. Although Ezmelral's comforting words soothed his ego and calmed him somewhat, a faint trace of irritation lingered on his otherwise perfect face. His dark eyes gradually returned to the storyteller, who now seemed far less appealing.
"He stayed concealed, entrusting his brilliant disciple to manage the lesser threats! That is, until the Divine Emperor realized he could no longer remain on the sidelines, lest his entire realm be destroyed! He was compelled to abandon his golden palace to confront the Queen personally!"
"And then what?!" a child from the Golden Feather Tribe gasped.
"Naturally, her Master intervened. But he wasn't alone..."
"Who accompanied him?" a child from the Purple Feather Tribe inquired, leaning forward eagerly.
"His legendary weapon spirit!"
"Ooooo!!!"
Ezmelral smiled smugly at the children's collective awe. Despite having just cautioned Faye against the persuasive tongue of the old man, the gleam in her silver eyes revealed her prideful nature. She was eagerly anticipating the recounting of her own illustrious role in the story.
"Is the sword spirit more powerful than the Queen?" a child asked in wonder.
Naturally, Ezmelral thought, her chest swelling with pride.
"The sword?!" the old man scoffed, oblivious to the presence of a Demigod-stage entity in his audience. "The sword was nothing more than a rusty, dull club! The Master wielded it to flatten the Divine Emperor like a pancake!"
Ezmelral's jaw dropped in utter indignation. "A dull club?! I'll show you a dull club, you old charlatan—!"
Her fury was abruptly stifled by Raiking's pale hand clamping firmly over her mouth. Without missing a beat, he effortlessly encircled her with his arm and began dragging the irate Sword Spirit away from the plaza.
"I thought you advised letting him be?" Raiking remarked dryly.
"Mmph mmph! (I underestimated his foolishness! Let me go! I must correct his blunders!!)" she protested vehemently into his palm, struggling fiercely as they vanished into the festival crowd.