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As you and Onin approach the grandeur of Del Valeor Palace, the air is thick with the scent of ancient stone and blooming gardens. The Emperor's guards nod solemnly, allowing you passage through the towering doors. Inside, the opulence of the court is overwhelming, yet you navigate it with a purpose that turns heads and whispers.
Emperor Jack, robed in silks that whisper of power and tradition, greets you from his throne, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Welcome back," he says, his voice echoing off the marble. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
You step forward, the clack of your boots resonating in the silent hall. "Your Majesty, I come to ask for the Journal of Compassion," you say, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest.
The Emperor's brow furrows, and he leans back, steepling his fingers. "The Journal is a Valeor heirloom," he replies, his tone final. "It cannot leave these walls."
Feeling a weight settle in your stomach, you bow your head. "I understand, Your Majesty," you murmur, and turn to leave, Onin's sympathetic gaze upon you.
But before you can retreat, Emperor Jack's voice halts you. "However," he begins, and you pause, hope flickering anew, "there is a way."
You turn back, meeting his gaze. "Anything," you breathe.
"The Royal Assassins Tournament," he declares. "Win, and the Journal shall be yours."
The challenge hangs heavy in the air, a daunting prospect that sets your heart racing. But the Journal of Compassion is worth any trial. With a determined nod, you accept.
Emperor Jack's gaze pierces through you as he leans forward, his voice a low rumble. "To join the Royal Assassins' Tournament, you must first become what you seek to conquer: a royal assassin," he declares. The words hang heavy in the air, a decree that sets the path of your destiny.
"You must prove your worth," he continues. "The Nightingales, creatures of the night that protect our empire, hold many secrets. Steal something of value from them, and you shall earn your place among the shadows."
Onin steps forward, his expression resolute. "I will train her," he vows, his voice unwavering. "She will be ready in my care."
The Emperor nods, satisfied. "You have five months," he states. "Use them wisely."
As you exit the throne room, the weight of the task ahead settles on your shoulders. The Nightingales are not just guardians; they are legends, whispered about in hushed tones, feared and revered in equal measure.
Onin's hand finds your shoulder, a silent promise of support. "We start tonight," he says. "The Nightingales are formidable, but not invincible."
The heavy doors of Del Valeor Palace close behind you with a resounding thud, sealing away the opulence and the weight of Emperor Jack's challenge. The cool air outside is a welcome relief against your heated skin, flushed with the enormity of the task ahead.
As you and Onin descend the palace steps, your mind whirls with questions about the Royal Assassins' Tournament. "Onin," you begin, your curiosity getting the better of you, "tell me about the tournament."
Onin looks at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "It's an event that only occurs once every emperor's life time," he explains. "Every royal assassin is eligible to participate. It's a test of skill, intelligence, and will."
You nod, absorbing his words. "And the prize?" you ask.
"One wish," he says, his voice low. "Granted without question or consequence."
The idea of such power sends a shiver down your spine. "What would one even wish for?" you ponder aloud.
Onin's gaze turns distant, thoughtful. "That's a question each must answer for themselves. Like you, you wish for the journal of compassion."
Silence falls between you as you walk, the night alive with the sounds of the empire. Eventually, you break the quiet. "Are you going to enter the tournament as well?"
"Yes," he replies, his voice steady. "But that doesn't change anything. I'll train you to win, and I wish you all the luck in the world."
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Onin Zacheri
Status: Friends Attraction Scale: 30%
+10%
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His words, sincere and encouraging, catch you off guard. A warmth spreads through you, and you find yourself blushing, unsure of the emotions swirling within. Onin has always been an enigma, but in this moment, under the starlit sky, you see him not just as a mentor, but as something more—a competitor, an ally, perhaps even a... No, it's too soon to define what Onin truly means to you.
With a determined breath, you focus on the path ahead. The tournament looms in the future, five months away, but every step you take is a step closer to the Journal of Compassion—and to understanding your own heart.
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