Party part 2

The bishop's office is an intimate chamber adorned with intricately detailed stained-glass windows that render the room in multi-colored hues. Soft lamplight casts shadows upon the room's many religious artifacts. The atmosphere is one of austere serenity, but that tranquility is soon disturbed.

A timid knock interrupts the bishop's late-night prayers.

"Come in," the bishop intones, without turning from the window where he's been contemplating the moonlit landscape.

The door creaks open and a priest, visibly nervous, steps inside. "Father, one of our bases of operation is having difficulties. It seems that a rather large group of griffins have managed to enter the capital unnoticed and are currently engaging in combat."

The bishop's lips curl into a faint smile. "What a beautiful day, indeed."

He walks over to an old bookshelf filled with leather-bound tomes, and runs his fingers delicately over the spines. "Send Cassian. He'll deal with the situation. That young man needs some exercise."

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The air in the throne room is thick with tension. The grandeur of the space is amplified by the imposing figure that sits on the throne: Queen Celeste. Her golden, wavy hair cascades down her back, imbued with an ethereal glow that seems to light the room.

The man kneeling before her is a high-ranking official, his body language screaming desperation and fear. "Y-your Majesty, I-I don't know who is responsible for this. I-I tried b-but nothing, I couldn't find anything. T-The letter, I-It just came out of nowhere, w-we don't even know if I-It's real or not."

She peers down at him, her eyes cold and unyielding. "This matter is not a joke. If you can't do such a simple thing, you are useless."

Just then, a messenger bursts into the room, bowing hurriedly before speaking. "Your Majesty, right now Project FGC is under attack by a swarm of griffins."

Queen Celeste arches an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "I could care less. This matter is more important than a simple project. Punish the guards for allowing these wild birds to enter my city."

The messenger stammers, his voice cracking. "T-the guards, someone distracted them. They would've been able to notice the griffins arriving but they were attacked and struggled against the attacker if—"

Queen Celeste cuts him off, her tone icy. "Regardless of how it was done, the fact is that it happened. It was a failed project to begin with. The church will deal with that; they are responsible for the project. Tell the nearby guilds to support them. Right now, I need someone to figure out what the hell this is about!" With a flick of her wrist, she slams the letter onto the table.

The room falls into a thick, uncomfortable silence. No one dares to speak against her, and they don't blame her for her agitation. The letter she's gripping so tightly is an invitation to an auction selling a national-grade weapon—a matter of supreme importance to the kingdom.

Queen Celeste sits back down, her face a study in restraint but her eyes betraying her frustration. "Send my children to the church, have them fight against those wild animals."

The messenger bows deeply, understanding the urgency and gravity of both matters. "Yes, Your Majesty. It will be done."

Queen Celeste waves him away, her mind already turning to the complexities ahead. Two issues to resolve, and both could have far-reaching consequences. Her eyes flick back to the letter on the table, its existence alone a sign of deeper threats lurking in the shadows. A national-grade weapon is not something one would auction off after all.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Aira and Liam stand side by side, overlooking the scene of chaos below. Griffins, their feathers tinged with the dying light of the sun, are clashing fiercely with the members of the church. The air is thick with tension, the scent of blood, and the distant roars of the mythical creatures.

Aira speaks first, her eyes narrowing at the unfolding battle. "We had to use a teleportation scroll to get here; Mother is testing us." 'What's going on? Why are there so many griffins and why are they attacking this location in general? We're not allowed to look at any actions or projects she does; this is an opportunity to learn something,' Aira thinks, her gaze calculating.

Liam glances at the griffins, his eyes falling on a few that appear more regal, more ferocious than the rest. "Some of them have a pure bloodline. This is a coordinated attack. Why don't you take the lead in fighting?" 'Hmm, looks like I'll have to take a look at the records here. Too bad I can't send my men in; tsk, what a pain,' Liam muses silently, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

Aira turns to face him, her eyes flashing with a mixture of irritation and challenge. "Feel free to fight them yourself, you useless brother."

As they walk towards the church, a formidable griffin swoops down from the sky, its wings spread wide, and its eyes aflame with a menacing light. Liam twirls his staff, casting a magic shield around them, just as Aira unsheathes her sword and wraps herself in a coat of shimmering aura.

The griffin spews fireballs in rapid succession. Liam moves gracefully, either dodging the attacks or blocking them with his shield. Aira does the same, her sword and aura working in tandem to keep the fiery projectiles at bay.

Suddenly, the griffin's white feathers begin to glow a vibrant red. It charges, talons first, directly at Aira. Liam grins, stepping back and calling out, "Have fun with your friend." 'If she dies here, it would be great. Too bad I can't kill her myself,' Liam thinks, turning to walk away from the scene.

Aira clicks her tongue, dodging the incoming talons with a swiftness born of years of training. "You're pathetic, Liam, but I understand you want to run away given how weak you are." 'Tsk, this bastard hid behind me until I got the aggro,' Aira thinks, her eyes locked onto the griffin.

Seizing a momentary lapse in the griffin's attack, Aira lunges, her sword arcing through the air. The griffin reacts just in time, using its wings as a shield. Her blade only grazes its feathers, sending a few floating down like embers.

The griffin doesn't give her time to breathe. It lunges again, this time faster and more determined.

'No time, no space. I need to change the dynamics here,' Aira thinks.

Quick as a flash, she pulls out a vial of poison from her belt and hurls it at the creature. The griffin, sensing danger, tries to veer away, but the vial explodes near its wing, releasing a plume of noxious smoke.

The griffin screeches, momentarily disoriented but not defeated. Aira seizes the moment to regain her stance.

The griffin rears back, its eyes blazing with a renewed ferocity. With a guttural roar, it releases a barrage of fireballs, turning the ground into a smoldering inferno.

Aira clicks her tongue in irritation. 'The fire is spreading; it doesn't allow me to get any closer. It seems to have figured out my fighting method. However, I'm not some third-rate fighter.'

Adjusting the distribution of her aura, she increases her speed, becoming a blur of motion as she darts through the wall of fire. Her blade cuts through the flames as if slicing through water, dissipating them in her wake.

Seizing the moment, Aira aims for the griffin's wings, her sword descending in a powerful arc. The griffin raises its wings just in time to block the attack. Her blade collides with its feathers, sending sparks flying. But without a second's delay, Aira counters, thrusting her sword forward in a stabbing motion. The blade finds its mark, piercing the creature's wing.

The griffin lets out an agonizing screech, its eyes filled with rage and pain. It thrashes wildly, clawing and snapping its beak in erratic, yet deadly, movements.

'At the end of the day, you're just a catbird,' Aira thinks, as she's forced to abandon her sword, dodging a particularly vicious swipe that would have disemboweled her.

She backpedals, gaining some distance, and reaches into her pouch, pulling out another sword. This one is slightly larger, its blade shimmering menacingly in the firelight.

Aira takes a deep breath, her aura gathering around the new sword like a tempest. 'This one has better reach and more weight; it should give me the edge I need.'

The griffin, sensing the change, snarls and launches another volley of fireballs. Aira swings her sword in a wide arc, her aura cutting through the fireballs, dispersing them before they could reach her.

'Time to turn the tide,' she thinks, advancing cautiously, her eyes trained on the griffin's every move.

She feints to the left, drawing the creature's attention, then pivots, lunging to the right. The griffin takes the bait, turning its head just as Aira unleashes a powerful slash aimed at its vulnerable neck.

At the last second, the griffin ducks, her blade whistling past, just missing its target. The creature retaliates with a whip-like movement of its tail, aiming straight at Aira's head.

Ducking in the nick of time, she narrowly avoids the deadly strike, her aura flickering as she stabilizes herself. 'So close, yet so far. This beast is smarter than it looks. I guess it's true, griffins are truly intelligent creatures.'

Aira bolts toward the griffin, sword poised for a killing blow. At the last moment, she lets the sword slip from her fingers, feigning a mistake. The griffin lunges, beak open in a triumphant snarl. But Aira is quicker. With a swift motion, she unsheathes another sword hidden at her side and plunges it deep into the beast's side.

The griffin lets out an agonized screech, its movements becoming erratic and desperate. Aira holds her position, sword still buried in the creature's flesh, confident it can't muster a coherent counterattack. 'Tsk, just die, you oversized cat-bird.'

Just then, a flash of light pierces the night sky from above. Aira looks up to see a young man plummeting toward them, golden sword glowing faintly in his hand. With uncanny precision, he lands behind the griffin and, in a fluid motion, decapitates it. The beast's head tumbles to the ground, eyes filled with tears.

Aira smiles, her eyes meeting those of her rescuer. "You must be the Holy Knight in training, Cassian, right? Thank you for your help." 'So this is the guy, huh? Well, he certainly radiates in holy magic.'

Cassian has short golden hair, light blue eyes, and a glowing white tattoo adorning the right side of his face—a mark shared only by the twelve highest knights. Yet, curiously, he's dressed in the garb of a priest.

"It's an honor to meet Princess Aira. I'm grateful for your support," he replies. 'Her brother sent me here to help her. I have no idea why, but Father said I should build a good relationship with them.'

"Where's my brother?" Aira asks as they start running toward the church. 'That asshole. I'm sure he's up to something.'

"I'm not sure. Your brother went into the church and asked me to support you."

Entering the church, Aira immediately notices several knights sprawled on the floor, seemingly asleep. "Why are there knights sleeping inside?" 'This is strange; they don't seem to have significant damage on them.'

"I have no clue. We haven't gone inside whatsoever; everyone is outside fighting," Cassian replies, equally puzzled.

Then both notice a large hole in the corner of the church, as if someone had blasted through a bookshelf. The hole seems to lead somewhere.

Before either could investigate further, Liam emerges from the hole, not out of breath but clearly on high alert.

"It looks like you have some visitors, Cassian," he says, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Then eight shadowy figures emerge from the hole, their attire shrouded in mystery and darkness. Three are dressed in black clothing that leaves no skin exposed, while the others don voluminous black robes that hide their forms entirely. All wear masks, making identification impossible.

"Identify yourselves, or we will capture you," Aira commands, her voice tinged with caution.

'It's weird; I can't sense any sort of energy. Do they have some artifact that can cover it? And what the hell is that one holding? It's obviously a dimensional bag, but why is there movement inside? As far as I know, that's impossible.'

Ignoring her demand, one of the figures dressed in black clothes waves a hand. The others seem to understand the unspoken command. With a swift, forceful punch, one of them blasts a hole through the church wall and they make to flee.

Aira, Cassian, and Liam tense, ready to give chase, but the figure who gestured earlier raises his hand to the side, palm facing out. The unspoken message is clear: he intends to fight them, to stand between them and his fleeing comrades.