Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

The recurring plot developments taught Lyle one thing: the Holy Light can truly do whatever it wants.

Mr. Raymond tends to sanctify the specialties of those challengers and then defeat them with greater force.

details as follows:

"I have mastered the violent power of the elements, the true primal force of nature!"

"Lord of Radiance!"

"I use the knowledge of the ancients, and my ancestors have bestowed upon me strength!"

"Guardians of the Ancient Kings!"

"Machinery is the future; witness the miracle of steel and electricity!"

"Lightforged War Machine!"

The feeling of being defeated by a sanctified version of one's own abilities is akin to wielding a sword to kill someone, only to have the sword disarmed and the person killed in return. It's the ultimate insult to one's own abilities and existence. When this insult occurs in full view of everyone, Lyle silently mourns for them, especially after the defeat when Mr. Raymond would solemnly say:

"Thank you for your selfless dedication, which makes the Holy Light even greater."

Several resurrected challengers were dragged away by the demon guards, cursing and swearing.

“Gentleman, those challengers who were smashed to pieces by Raymond have appeared unharmed.”

"That's the existing life casket technology. In all intense battle arenas, there are similar devices that make your life casket beforehand. When your original body is destroyed, you can use the life casket to reincarnate. The inspiration comes from the life casket of the ancient lich. Although it is an outdated spell, it is well adapted to the current arena. The patent was applied for by Andre Academy."

"A completely one-sided battle." Mr. Raymond's combat strength is quite impressive.

"Yes, that's why duel betting was banned. Even a blind man knows which side to bet on."

Lyle squinted. If he weren't wearing a mask, he would definitely be rubbing his tired eyes. Wherever Raymond was, there was light pollution.

The Andrei members behind him had already begun to leave, announcing the end of the gladiatorial contest with a sense of dejection.

Lyle and the gentleman walked on the black cracked earth of Dark Zone 2. Behind them, the arena was still ablaze with excitement, and the demons were still celebrating their victory with brutal, hand-to-hand combat.

The water-flowing tentacles of the Talent Ball moved back to its shoulder.

After inquiring about the location of Twilight Memories from the gentleman, Lyle bid him farewell and left.

The location of Twilight Memories is in the central residential area, which is where the original inhabitants of the Wandering City live. The gentleman was vague and could only say, "It is a small gathering-like organization with very few members. Of course, the Cup of Extravagance is even smaller. It is somewhat similar to the Cup of Extravagance, but the members... I'm sorry, this touches on some sensitive areas. Plague Doctor, you'd better not have too high hopes. Compared to Andrei's society, it is closer to the Secret Party. Unless a member introduces you, it is best not to dream of joining it."

……

However, the reality was far different from what the gentleman had imagined.

Lyle sat in the chair of Twilight Memories, looking at the others sitting in a circle around him.

Two tall, shadowy figures, disguised, stood in the center of the living room, arguing fiercely, while in their hands, they held a portrait of a person aloft.

One portrait depicts a girl dressed as a wandering knight, with long, smooth, golden hair secured by a crown and braided into a bun. Her leather belt outlines a graceful curve, and she holds a longbow at an angle, her gaze following the sharp arrow into the distance, as if she wants to pierce through the person outside the painting.

In another painting, the girl has her hands on her knees. It is a classic portrait of an aristocrat. Her delicate face is like a doll's, her long hair is as black as ink, like a black waterfall cascading to the floor, and she wears a black and purple pleated skirt. Against the dark background, her exposed skin is as delicate as white porcelain.

Both paintings feature beautiful women and are beautiful works of art, yet both result in terrible comments.

"Your head is like a flattened piece of metal, stubborn and deformed. Have your eyes been hidden behind your armor for too long and become blind? How can you ignore this beauty? Look at my Kayla, look at her fair and slender legs, this is the ultimate beauty in the world!"

"You stupid pig, time has worn away your reason. Have those soft, green plants sprouted on you? My Lina is the most beautiful woman in the world! Look at this hair, as smooth as the Milky Way. Touching it is like water flowing through my fingers. I still remember that feeling. You and your weird fetishes are disgusting."

The two attacked each other over their hobbies, constantly proclaiming their love for the girl in the painting, and finally became so engrossed in touching the painting that they lost themselves in it.

Lyle found this scene rather greasy.

Lyle turned his head to look at a figure. "Thank you very much, sir. Thank you for bringing me in, but I'm not sure if the luck you've given me is a good choice."

The figure was dressed in velvet, and his attire, like the two gentlemen in the center, indicated that he was either rich or noble. However, he was much more refined in manner. He not only generously guided the lost Lyle but also enthusiastically explained everything about the place.

"Those two are just too deeply in love. After all, she is the only granddaughter and the heir of the family. Moreover, they also have some personal grudges. The outstanding descendant is one aspect, and personal resentment is another, which is why such a dispute has arisen."

So the girl in the painting is their granddaughter? "Their own perverted fetishes are also a factor."

The figure chuckled, "Compared to their achievements, this shortcoming is insignificant."

He took a step forward, seemingly about to intervene in their struggle.

The change in environment caught their attention.

"Irene, what do you think? Which side is better?"

The problem arises when a third party intervenes in a fixed scenario, but mishandling this situation can backfire and cause trouble.

Irene clasped her hands together, rubbing them together as if to appease him. "I just want to act as a matchmaker for my foolish grandson, to find him a beautiful wife. What do you two think?"

"Don't even think about it!" "Don't even think about it!" The argument stopped, and the two of them gripped the scroll tightly behind their backs, as if they would lose their precious granddaughter if Irene touched it.

Mr. Irene skillfully defused the situation.

Chapter Seventy: The Dawn of Cassandra

He wore a metal ring adorned with dark green olive branches and leaves on his head, his face was disguised, his dark brown quiver behind him was empty, and he carried a piece of animal skin in his hand, which was only occasionally revealed to be a ceremonial cloak with a bluish-gray emblem laid out in the center when it was unfolded.

He put the portrait of his beloved granddaughter back into his breast pocket and glared fiercely at his old rival across from him. Even though he didn't notice it because of his disguise, the heavy nasal tone he deliberately uttered still expressed his dissatisfaction.

Sure enough, the tin man opposite him responded. The old man, obsessed with his hair, pointed to the armor on his chest with his finger. It was a taunting gesture from the Dreyars, implying that the next attack would pierce his chest.

Irian turned to face the man in the headband and wallet, his wide robe obscuring the irritable man's vision and blocking his provocation.

“Echel, please keep your composure. We have important business to attend to.”

"Ryder, that applies to you too."

“I don’t recall having any serious business to do, other than showing off our achievements, families, territories and histories, and joining the Twilight Memories. I’ve never heard of any serious business.”

"Newcomers, we welcome our thirteenth newcomer. Now is the time for you to demonstrate the demeanor befitting your noble lineage."

Irene raised her right hand and extended it to Lyle. "Welcome, member of Andrei."

“Wait, Eleanor! Although our organization has neither a future nor discipline, I don’t think just anyone is qualified to share a room with us. It’s against the rules.” The leather-clad man interrupted Mr. Eleanor, walking toward Lyle and staring at the bird-beak mask with his nearly 1.9-meter-tall frame.

Just as Lyle thought he was about to make physical contact, the leather-clad man tied his cloak behind his back, performing an ancient gesture.

"Twilight of Lewesser, Ranger-Lord, Echel de Lewesser, Lewesser II, salute to you."

Lyle was completely unfazed by the sudden attention, and this scene unfolded like the first domino to fall.

"Twilight of Deria, Lord Knight, Rhed Jean Deria, Deria III, salute to you."

"Twilight of Morroc, Sorcerer Lord, Elion Jane Dorgit, I salute you."

"The Twilight of Darison..."

"Wabarang's Twilight..."

"The Twilight of Yedejah..."

One by one, the figures offered their greetings, and one by one, their names were read out, all bearing sacred surnames—noble and ancient surnames that existed before the steps of the ancient Roman Empire. And "lord" was an ancient title, meaning that they were the actual holders of a territory, in addition to the history they had learned from the scholar.

They are royalty from various countries, forgotten members of royal families, who have gathered here for unknown reasons.

Do you think you are qualified to stand alongside us?

The postures of those around him all reflected this view. Although Lyle repeatedly told himself that knowledge changes destiny and magic creates miracles, these dozen or so words symbolizing status and power almost made him suffocate. Lyle stood frozen in place, but his heart began to retreat.

"State your name, sir!" Irian's words pulled Lyle back to reality, and the seriousness in her words forced Lyle to face everything.

Lyle was just a minor character, but his inner pride wouldn't allow him to submit to power. A true man kneels to heaven, to earth, and to his parents, especially under immense pressure; his spine would stand straight.

"My name is Lyle Bouler."

“Buller? I’ve never heard of that family.”

"Because it is a commoner's surname."

"Commoner, is this what you're proud of? A humble background?"

"My family is my pride."

"...Who are your family members?"

“My uncle, Ralph Bouler, is a sheriff…”

Lyle gave a detailed account of everything about Ralf: his gloomy, zombie-like face, his terrible social skills, his behavior, his care for his nephew, his bravery in fighting monsters, and his superhuman hysteria.

Lyle held his head high, showing off this highly individualistic and capable relative to them. There was no discomfort, for Ralph was worthy of his respect and admiration.

When Lyle's narration ended.

The surroundings were completely silent.

Mr. Irene walked over. “Mr. Lyle, I really enjoyed your speech. Your passion and dedication, as you expressed, and the fact that you have a family you can be proud of, perfectly align with the original intention of Twilight Memories—an infinite longing for the living. Welcome to the group, Lyle.”

Echel stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Lyle, for my rudeness earlier. It was part of the test. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m particularly polite. Like you said, you have a good uncle. When you mention how he protects you, I always think of my darling Kayla. I would definitely do the same for him. Also, if your uncle is willing to immigrate, I would be very happy to give him a knighthood. He’s a man I admire.”

“But, as you say, I do not have noble blood.” The sudden recognition left Lyle somewhat stunned.

Reed tapped his armor. "Bloodline theory is outdated. We call ourselves the twilight of our lives, just to reminisce about the good old days, but that doesn't mean we're old-fashioned."

"Furthermore, an ordinary commoner, faced with the power of several lords, passionately declared that he was no less capable and wanted to join us. Such an ordinary person is anything but ordinary."

"If you have no achievements, create them; if you have no glory, forge it. Your name will be remembered for generations to come. Isn't that wonderful?"

"The Dawn of Cassandel, Proud Lyle I".

Chapter Seventy-One: The Sword of Andrei

“Thank you, Mr. Irian,” Lyle said, sitting in a chair facing the quiet gentleman with a book on his lap and his hands clasped on it. If it weren’t for Lyle’s interruption, he would have been engrossed in the words. “Thank you for helping me out of my predicament.”

“To deliberately emphasize the small acts of assistance from others while ignoring one’s own abilities is not the behavior of a wise person, Lyle.”

"Been taught a lesson."

The armored man named Reid walked over and sat down in the chair closest to Irian. A lion was painted in the center of his shiny black armor, and the lion remained still as his steel body sank into the soft cushion.

Reed began to talk to himself, as if he were speaking to the two of them, or perhaps to himself.

"The same old poems and songs, but I hope their sharp tongues will be just as sharp on the battlefield."

The members of Twilight Memories gather together to showcase their literary talents, which seems to have become a daily activity. Those with extensive knowledge display themselves at the center, those with slightly lesser knowledge offer their initial insights, those with even lesser knowledge stand by and admire, and the least knowledgeable remain outside the circle.