Emperor's Reckoning



The old man's presence seemed to grow, exuding a powerful aura that resonated through the library realm. The very essence of the space trembled under the weight of his energy. He spoke again, his voice echoing with an ancient authority that demanded respect, "You still dare to call me by that name?"

As if in response to the intensity of the moment, another bookcase toppled and crashed to the floor, shattering the gravity of the atmosphere. It broke the seriousness, momentarily distracting from the weight of the confrontation.

"If I don't call you that, what should I call you then?" Lyon retorted, undeterred by the imposing presence before him. He continued with a sardonic twist, "Besides, your daughter asked me to."

The old man's face tightened, revealing a mixture of emotions—anger, surprise, and perhaps a trace of paternal concern.

The old man's voice thundered in the library, resonating with a mixture of fury and indignation. "I never agreed to her marriage," he bellowed, the words echoing off the walls of the vast space.

Lyon stood his ground, his own voice unwavering in the face of the old man's anger. "How many years has it been, and you still can't accept it?" he shot back, the frustration evident in his tone. "I love your daughter, and your daughter loves me. We got married."

The old man's face contorted with rage. "No, she is not! You've influenced her," he accused vehemently, pointing an accusatory finger at Lyon. The weight of the past and the present collided, a storm of emotions and unresolved issues swirling in the air between them.

Lyon's face twisted with contempt at the old man's accusation. "Influence her? It's called love, old man," he spat, the frustration and anger palpable. "Maybe if you strolled around outside rather than counting how many pages in a book, you might feel it!"

The old man, equally resolute, retorted with a wave of his hand. Magic brands of various elements materialized around him. Lyon mirrored the action, creating his own array of magical symbols. The opposing energies clashed and canceled each other out, producing a tremendous shockwave that shook the library. Despite the roaring wind and the force of the blast, the two figures remained rooted, their determination unyielding.

The old man turned around, showing his back to Lyon. "I thought you were dead. I could hear my daughter's grief that day," he said, his voice tinged with regret.

Lyon's reply was sharp and resolute. "I did die that day, not even metaphorically."

The old man furrowed his brows in confusion. "What?" he questioned before turning back to face Lyon. "Impossible."

Lyon smirked, a bitter edge to his expression. "I'm not a ghost, you know it more than I do." The tension in the room was palpable, the weight of years of unresolved issues hanging in the air.

The old man leaned in closely as if his eyes could pierce through Lyon's soul. "Two souls... one host," he murmured, realization dawning.

Lyon nodded solemnly, acknowledging the truth. "I died, father."

"Shut up," the old man snapped, leaning back. "You look younger than you were, reminding me of the time I wanted to beat the living hell out of you."

"You are welcome to try, but I warn you, I am weaker than I was," said Lyon. "But I still can pluck your ashen nose hair."

The old man took a step back, stunned. "The fact that you're young and weaker... two souls, one host. Rebirth... so you did die."

"I told you already," Lyon rolled his eyes.

"You... you've attained it?! The Samsara?!" the old man grabbed a hold of his shoulders.

Lyon shook his head. "No, not me."

The old man's brows furrowed deeper. "Then who?"

"That's not important," said Lyon. "What's important is that your daughter, along with my other two wives, went along with the rebirth, causing them to enter a kind of... pseudo-reincarnation thing. Now she is somewhere in Hell."

The old man's eyes widened. "pseudo-reincarnation... My daughter... in Hell?"

Lyon sighed after realizing that the old man didn't know where his daughter was. He sat down on top of the pile of rubbish contemplating. "She would have run into you if you were not so hard to find."

The old man frowned. "You're blaming me?! You're the one who put her in a dangerous situation in the first place!" "If you were not so... strict with your duty as the librarian, perhaps none of this would happen."

"You ungrateful brat!" the old man was furious and grabbed Lyon by the neck with swift movement. He slammed Lyon against the bookcase with eyes glaring. "If you never took her away from me, this would have never happened!"

"Go on then, do it! And see how your daughter will hate you!" said Lyon.

The old man was taken aback upon realization. The anger in his eyes subsided, replaced by a deep sadness and regret. He released Lyon and stepped back, burying his face in his hands. "What have I done..." he muttered to himself.

Lyon's coughing fit subsided, but he felt a strange sensation coursing through him. He clutched his throat, trying to regain his breath. Between gasps, he managed to speak, "Now is not the time for us to quarrel, old man. We need to work together."

The old man's frown deepened as he continued to watch Lyon, the man who had taken his daughter's hand. He was about to unleash another berating when Lyon's eyes suddenly widened.

Lyon dropped to his knees, clutching his chest. "Gah, I'm at my limit," he groaned.

"The soul... it's awakening," the old man muttered to himself.

"Aren't you lucky? You're going to experience the same me from years ago again," Lyon said, his voice strained. "But remember this, I never objected if you came to visit us, she looked up to you, Father."

Lyon collapsed to the floor, writhing in pain, his fingers twitching involuntarily. He looked up at the old man with wide, panicked eyes. "O-Old man, what did you do to me?!"

The old man let out a frustrated sigh and avoided Lyon's gaze, muttering an expletive under his breath. "Fuck."