But, judging by how they verbally assaulted him those few weeks ago, they clearly still had their thorns.
After leading Dyon to the holdings of the Nightwell Clan, Crystella looked toward Dyon with a hesitating gaze.
The event was held in a massive arena, already filled to the brim with people of all shapes and sizes. The noise was quite deafening even for an immortal.
The holdings of each Clan was held even further underground. Crystella had to lead Dyon down a long hidden corridor connected to the Nightwell Mansion to bring him here. Apparently, this was a tradition they adopted so that they could keep their trump card members hidden until the final moments. Though, if the other Clans had any sort of competence, they should have solid clues before the event began.
"... Can you... Maybe ... Please wear something different...?" Crystella finally managed to eek out her words. She had expected Dyon to lash out at her, but all she received were the giggles of Saru and Lilith in return.
"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked..." Crystella muttered to herself, turning away to lead Dyon through the final doors.
Dyon sighed. "It's fine. I guess since I'm not just representing myself, I have to do at least this much. But don't expect me to dress up to take a look at your world core."
A flash of golden light caused Crystella to look back, only to find that the dignified man in white robes had returned. The golden branch with a singular leave attached to his lapel was especially eye catching.
His tall frame, his wide shoulders, his enticing arrogance and confidence –
Crystella cut off her own thoughts, blushing profusely as she hurriedly turned away, her heartbeat and rushing blood sounding like the rev of an engine to her ears. She hadn't noticed that Dyon was so tall before... He was even taller than her father...
Taking deep breaths, she finally opened the door, leading the rest of the way.
The members of the Nightwell Clan looked toward the new arrivals all at once. There were only about a dozen present, but to a normal person, it would feel as though the whole world had turned its attention toward them.
However, who exactly was Dyon? He was a man who could rule the mortal plane with a fist before even reaching his 300th birthday. The gazes of those from this small Clan didn't even faze him.
"Let's save the elitist commentary, shall we? I'll be going first."
Dyon walked past them and up a not-so-subtle flight of stairs.
The bright lights of the arena shone down on him, his two women by his sides. They were no doubt the only three mortals in this underground world.
...
Dyon's appearance was stunning to say the least. A mortal appearing in such a place was unheard of. The very announcer who had been doing his best to raise the expectations of the crowd – to great success, one might add – was also stunned.
It made sense. The upper echelon of this world – the three families and the Dark Flame Tower – were aware of Dyon's existence. But to the everyday commoner, they had never heard of him.
The only ones who didn't seem surprised by this turn of events were the members of the Darkwell and Dimwell family. There were three of them each, preparing for the first competition. Though it had yet to be announced, they were already aware of the task about to be set before them. In fact, Dyon was the only one not aware.
This truth wasn't due to cheating of the parts of these families, but rather Dyon's own negligence or, rather, uncaring attitude. Had he not blown off the Nightwell Clan, they likely would have been spending this time explaining it all to him. But, he came here directly instead.
The announcer coughed, feeling the enthusiasm of the crowd wavering. Why had no one informed him about this?
'… They must be?'
The announcer's gaze lit up. Noticing the clear aesthetic beauty of Dyon and his two companions, he felt that he had 'understood' what was happening. He recovered quickly, a bright smile beaming.
'It makes sense, those nobles wouldn't lower themselves to explaining something like this to me. Their use is obvious.'
"Ah! It seems our Three Great Clans have brought out a special present for us all! A pleasant surprise indeed!"
The eyes of the announcer met Dyon's. The disdain within was clear, but he was also nudging toward Dyon to get started on the pre-competition entertainment. He himself was quite eager to see it as well.
He normally wouldn't spare a mortal a glance, but he had been forced to due to the awkward situation. But he was extremely surprised to see just how enticing Saru and Lilith were. It made him wonder if there were other mortals who looked like this that he was missing out on.
Dyon raised an eyebrow, wondering what the hell this announcer was going on about. Why was he giving him that look exactly?
Dyon frowned seeing the announcer's gaze leave him and sweep over Saru and Lilith continuously.
With a snap of his fingers, a blazing fiery array appeared by the announcer's head.
"[Nether]."
A spear spun out from the floating formation, blasting the announcer's head into a rain of flesh and blood.
"See what I mean?" Lilith muttered. "Much less…"
In fact, she felt that Dyon was getting more and more murderous. Or rather, his patience and tolerance seemed far lower than it had been in the past. As though he found many things to be far beneath him now. And, she oddly felt that it didn't affect her feelings for him at all.
The fifth [Judgement] spun like a red pillar of flame before Dyon put it out without much effort.
The six participants opposing Dyon had expressions that turned steely.
"Why did you do that? Regardless of how low his standing was, he was still a member of my Dimwell Clan."
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