Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 284: The Killer of The Lightning Spirit (End) The Warm Night

Chapter 284: The Killer of The Lightning Spirit (End) The Warm Night

The dawn sky was streaked with hues of pink and orange as Lyan finished packing his belongings. The courtyard of the palace was quiet, save for the occasional clink of metal as Julius, Borton, and Arnold helped secure his gear. Shadow, Lyan’s imposing black horse, stood nearby, its eyes gleaming with fierce intelligence and restlessness.

"You’re really heading out, then?" Julius asked, leaning against a stone pillar. His red hair glinted in the early morning light, and his easy smile masked the underlying unease at seeing such a reliable guy departing, leaving the dangerous capital to the crown prince.

Lyan nodded, adjusting the straps of his pack. "Yes, it’s time. Grafen needs rebuilding, and there’s much to be done. Besides, my girls in the city of Arkansas are waiting for me."

Arnold grunted in agreement. "Arkansas, eh? That’s a city that never sleeps. You’ll fit right in, Lyan."

Lyan chuckled, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Perhaps. It’s been a while since I had a good challenge. And a great night,"

As they chatted, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the courtyard. They turned to see Erich approaching, his royal attire catching the light. The prince’s usually composed face was flushed from the brisk walk, and he held a rolled parchment in his hand.

"You idiot," Erich called out, a smile tugging at his lips. "You almost left without something important."

Lyan raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "And what might that be, Your Highness?"

Erich thrust the parchment toward him. "The written decree from the royals. Your official recognition of nobility and the grant of Grafen. You can’t exactly start ruling without it."

Lyan accepted the parchment with a laugh. "Ah, the formalities. I knew I was forgetting something."

The group shared a hearty laugh, the tension of departure easing for a moment. Erich’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but there was also a glint of concern. He clapped Lyan on the shoulder, a gesture of both camaraderie and authority.

"Don’t indulge yourself too much in pleasure with your women," Erich said, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine advice. "And watch your back. This new position will bring plenty of enemies."

Lyan smirked, his eyes reflecting a blend of mischief and resolve. "I’ll keep that in mind, Will. And remember, you promised you’d call on me when the time comes. I’ll be ready."

Erich nodded, his expression turning serious. "I will. I’ll need you sooner than you think. Our kingdom’s future is uncertain, and I trust you to help steer it."

The moment of levity passed, replaced by the gravity of their responsibilities. Lyan mounted Shadow, the horse pawing at the ground eagerly. Julius and Arnold stepped back, giving Lyan space as he prepared to depart.

"Take care, Lyan," Julius said, his voice carrying a note of genuine warmth. "We’ll miss your mischief around here."

Arnold nodded in agreement. "Don’t be a stranger. Grafen’s not that far."

Lyan smiled down at them. "I won’t. And you two—stay out of trouble, would you? I want to enjoy a leisure life rebuilding the territory for a while,"

With a final nod to Erich, Lyan turned Shadow toward the gates. The dawn light bathed the city in a soft glow, the promise of a new day ahead. As he rode out, the weight of his new title and the responsibilities it entailed pressed on his shoulders, but there was also a thrill of anticipation. Grafen awaited, and with it, the challenge of building something new from the ground up.

The road south was long and winding, but Lyan relished the journey. Shadow’s powerful strides ate up the miles, the countryside passing in a blur of green fields and dense forests.

At midday, they paused to rest by a bubbling brook. Lyan let Shadow drink deeply while he stretched his legs. The Deadlight, Grimclaw, appeared silently from the shadows, followed by his winter wolves and a few goblin champion skeletons.

"My lord," Grimclaw rumbled, his dark fur rippling in the dappled sunlight. "All is secure. No threats detected within a five-mile radius."

Lyan nodded, offering the great beast a piece of dried meat. "Thank you, Grimclaw. Your vigilance is always appreciated."

The Deadlight’s yellow eyes gleamed with a mix of pride and satisfaction as he accepted the treat. "We live to serve, my lord."

As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in vibrant shades of red and gold, Lyan’s thoughts turned back to Astellia and the events surrounding Duke Ravindor. Despite the excitement of his new title and the journey ahead, a dark cloud lingered over his thoughts. The revelation about Duke Ravindor’s actions gnawed at him.

"Why would he do it?" Lyan muttered to himself, his brow furrowing. He replayed the events in his mind, trying to piece together the puzzle. Duke Ravindor had taken control of the corrupted nobles in the name of a rebellion, but it was not to amass power, but in a desperate attempt to serve the kingdom in his final moments.

With the influence of the dark elf, his life is under a serious threat, and he realizes that. He decided to take the corrupted nobles, the parasites and the tumor of the kingdom down with him.

The realization left a bitter taste in Lyan’s mouth. He imagined how Griselda must have felt, the weight of betrayal and duty crushing her spirit.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he set up camp for the night. Shadow grazed nearby, while Grimclaw and the winterwolves formed a perimeter, their eyes glowing faintly in the encroaching darkness. Lyan gathered wood for a fire, the simple task grounding him amidst the turmoil of his thoughts.

As the fire crackled to life, Lyan sat on a fallen log, staring into the flames.

Griselda’s voice came from the darkness. Unlike her usual strong and pushy tone, today it sounded soft and weak.

"Yeah, I’m here," Lyan replied.

(Are you okay?) (Griselda.)

Her question wasn’t random. After trying to uncover the truth with his incubus magic, Lyan found there was a protective barrier and a defensive system on the magic and curse placed on the Duke. Lyan’s current body, not as resistant to magic as his former one, couldn’t handle it well. Plus, using Incubus magic, which isn’t suited for a human body, caused significant damage.

What Lyan cast on the Duke was a spell to deeply search with precision using keywords and mental instructions. Unlike browsing through a person’s memories one by one, this spell forcefully targeted specific memories. Memories are intertwined with a person’s soul, making it difficult to separate and piece them together, which makes such magic very advanced.

"I’m fine. Cynthia’s magic works like a charm," Lyan replied with a shrug.

Cynthia’s spell broke the curse that was about to attack Lyan. But still, it was evident.

(You’re lying.) (Griselda.)

Lyan’s movements showed he had taken considerable damage.

"It’s fine. It’s fine. I once killed a demon god alone. As if a simple injury like this would affect me," Lyan said with a shrug.

It wasn’t life-threatening, but it did damage his internal organs and muscles. The concern wasn’t about whether it would kill him, but whether he could survive an unexpected attack.

(Master, you’re not in a condition to push your body. Please use your summoning skills and summon your monsters to protect you, or summon us in urgent situations.) (Cynthia.)

Cynthia’s worry was clear.

"Yes, yes. I know," Lyan said, stretching. "But that was quite a plot twist. Rather than worrying about me, are you okay, Griselda?" he asked, addressing the girl who had just found a hint of the identity of the one who killed her.

Lyan could feel the heavy sigh inside the grimoire’s space.

It’s not only Griselda’s sigh. He could sense the rest of the high spirits were there too, unease to how they should react.

Hestia, Arturia, Eira, Azelia, Cynthia, Sylphia, and Lilith.

(It’s difficult. It would be easier if we could just find him and kill the threat right there. But it turns out that it won’t be that easy) (Griselda)

Griselda’s annoyance is clear, but there’s a hint of guilt and sadness in her tone.

"It’s fine," (Lyan)

(Huh) (Griselda)

"It’s not your fault. It could be said that you helped the Duke achieve his noble purpose," Lyan’s voice soft and gentle. "You’ve done great for the kingdom, Griselda. The Duke that fell bringing the corrupted nobles with him to bring the kingdom to a fresh beginning admitted it,"

At the end of his life, before he got completely turned into a stone, Lyan heard it.

The words of praise and relief on his face imprinted because of his realization.

’With you, Griselda, and that man, Evocatore... I guess the kingdom would be safer than ever...’

’I leave the kingdom to your hands’

(That idiot bastard...) (Griselda)

A curse, but with a sad and hoarse voice, accompanied by falling tears.

That night, the spirit of lightning, the great protector of the Astellia Kingdom, cried her fill in the Grimoire’s space.

The rest of the girls, including Eira who occasionally fought with her soothe her together.

It was such a tranquil, sad, but warm night for the group.

Closing the connection with the television that connected the conversation between him and the grimoire’s space, Lyan stared straight at the fire burning at the campfire before him.

His face is grim, a mix of nostalgia and resolution.

"Dark elves... Huh..."