Lord Summoner's Freedom Philosophy: Grimoire of Love
Chapter 375: Again With The Great Spirits

Chapter 375: Again With The Great Spirits

"I guess this is a great success?" Lyan muttered to himself, gazing out over the bustling streets of Grafen. The festival was in full swing, and the sheer number of people flooding the area exceeded his expectations. From the stalls selling crafts and foods to the lively games and the music that floated in the air, everything seemed just perfect. People were smiling, children were running, and the atmosphere was charged with joy and excitement.

He leaned on the wooden railing of the castle balcony, observing the crowd below. Word had spread far and wide, thanks to the bards he’d hired to sing about the upcoming celebration. Not just the people of Grafen, but even those from neighboring towns and territories had arrived. The turnout was more than he’d anticipated, and it warmed his heart. With the crowds came money that would circulate through the market, benefitting both the merchants and the city’s coffers. It was the type of economic boost Grafen sorely needed, especially after the war.

Lyan’s eyes wandered across the crowd until they landed on a specific group—a group he knew better than anyone. His girls. The scene made him smile, his heart swelling with warmth. There they were, scattered yet somehow united in their energy and joy, spread across the colorful courtyard.

Belle, Alina, and Xena were near a stall selling sweets, giggling like little children as they each tried different treats. Josephine, with her practical nature, tried to keep them from overindulging, but even she was grinning ear to ear, her stern facade cracking as Alina offered her a bright pink confection. Ravia and Raine were arguing over something trivial near the game booths, but their laughter made it clear that the argument was all in fun. Abraham, usually reserved and serious, stood near them, a rare smile curving his lips as he watched the people enjoy themselves.

But what truly caught Lyan’s attention was the sight of the Valkyries and Wilhelmina. Normally stoic and composed, they were engaged in what seemed to be a rather lively debate with Clarisse. The source of the bickering? The little bundle that was being passed from one to another—Clarisse’s child.

Wilhelmina held the child close, her usually hard features softened by a gentle smile as she spoke, while Emilia and Alicia made faces at the baby, trying to coax a laugh. Surena teased Clarisse, who had her hands on her hips, pretending to be cross but failing miserably as her lips twitched upward.

"Give him back, already! You said you’d just hold him for a second!" Clarisse protested, but there was no heat in her voice.

Alicia stuck out her tongue playfully. "But he likes being with us, don’t you, little one?" she cooed at the child, who giggled in response, his tiny hands reaching out toward her silver hair.

Lara, Tara, and Sigrid were nearby, cheering them on, their vibrant robes standing out among the more muted colors of the townspeople. Tara seemed fascinated with the baby, her eyes wide as she watched Wilhelmina cradle him. Sigrid, as always, kept a more composed demeanor, but her gaze was filled with warmth.

Althea, the head maid, stood by, keeping a watchful eye over the chaos, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and exasperation. Despite her efforts to maintain a composed air, even she couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene in front of her.

Lyan’s smile widened as he watched them all, his heart swelling with something that he rarely allowed himself to fully feel—pure, unadulterated happiness. It was a moment of bliss, seeing them all laughing, arguing, enjoying the festival. Each of them was a piece of the family he’d somehow managed to put together, a family he knew he had to protect.

"This is bliss," he murmured to himself, his gaze softening. "I need to make sure I protect it, but for now..." He took a deep breath, looking away from the cheerful scene. "I want those guys to experience the festival too."

With a determined nod, Lyan turned away from the balcony, heading back inside the castle.

___

The corridors were quieter, a stark contrast to the liveliness outside. As Lyan made his way to his quarters, he took in the silence, feeling the weight of his next task settle on his shoulders. It was time—time to fulfill a promise he had put off for too long.

He stepped into his room, closing the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he summoned the grimoire, its weight settling comfortably in his hands. The cover shimmered slightly, and he ran his fingers over the embossed letters. The grimoire had been with him since his arrival in this world, binding him to the eight great spirits.

He held the book in front of him, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he gathered his resolve. "Take me to the grimoire’s space," he uttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

The world around him shifted, his vision blurring before it vanished altogether. When he opened his eyes again, he found himself in a familiar place—the living room of the grimoire’s space. It was just as he remembered it, with its cozy couch, the large television that was linked to his own senses, and the dining area that stood empty.

Lyan let out a sigh, a mix of nostalgia and apprehension filling his chest. He took a step forward, his eyes scanning the empty room. It had been a long time since he’d last come here. After the case with Duke Hektor, the once rebellious spirit, Griselda, had become obedient. Since then, the eight great spirits had never shown themselves. They’d left him alone, respecting the space he seemed to need.

He moved to the staircase, each step feeling heavier than the last. When he reached the top, he paused, his gaze landing on a single door at the end of the hallway. It was an ordinary-looking door, but what lay beyond was far from ordinary.

Behind that door was his personal space—his apartment from Earth. A perfect recreation of the place he’d called home before everything had changed, before the catastrophe known as "The Cleansing" had shattered his world and thrust him into a life he never imagined.

Lyan swallowed hard, his throat tightening as memories threatened to resurface. The last time he had opened that door, the overwhelming wave of nostalgia had forced him to turn back. It wasn’t just an apartment. It was where he’d heard his sister’s voice, where he’d spent countless hours with her, taking care of her, sharing dreams of a better future. It was a past he had run from, afraid of what it would do to him if he faced it.

But now, standing before the door, he felt different. The family he had found in this world—the laughter, the warmth, the love they shared—had given him strength. Strength to look back at the past without fear, to remember who he was and where he came from without losing himself.

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he touched the doorknob. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. It was time. Time to meet them again. The spirits he was bound to. The ones who had been with him through everything, who had given him strength when he needed it most, and whom he had, until now, avoided.

He twisted the doorknob, pushing the door open. The room beyond was just as he remembered it—his apartment, untouched by time, every detail the same. He stepped inside, the familiar scent of his old home wrapping around him like a comforting embrace.

Lyan took a deep breath, steeling himself as he moved through the small hallway that led to the main living area. He could hear faint voices now, laughter, and the soft murmur of conversation. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he missed.

He walked through the hallway, his steps slow, deliberate, until he reached the living room. There, they were waiting—Arturia, Azelia, Cynthia, Eira, Griselda, Hestia, Lilith, and Sylphia. The eight great spirits. They were scattered around the room, each one distinct, each one exactly as he remembered them.

Arturia, her golden hair cascading down her back, looked up first, her eyes widening in surprise. She was always composed, always noble, but in that moment, she looked vulnerable, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Lyan..." she whispered, her voice catching.

Azelia, small and childlike, her dark green hair framing her face, clapped her hands together, her eyes lighting up. "Big brother Lyan!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with joy as she ran towards him.

Cynthia, ever the composed saintess, smiled, her eyes glinting with something mischievous. "You’ve finally come back," she said, her voice gentle, yet carrying an undertone that hinted at her more... unconventional interests.

Eira remained aloof, her dark blue hair flowing around her as she glanced at him, her expression unreadable. She crossed her arms but nodded at him, a silent acknowledgment of his presence.

Griselda, wild as ever, grinned at him, her white hair seeming to crackle with energy. "Took you long enough," she said, her voice teasing, though there was a softness there too, a warmth she rarely showed.

Hestia stood with a haughty smile, her short, curly red hair framing her confident expression. She had her arms crossed, her posture proud as she regarded Lyan. "So, the great Lyan finally graces us with his presence," she said, her voice holding that slightly arrogant tone she always had. Despite her words, there was no malice—only relief. She gave him a smile that showed just how much she’d missed him.

Lilith, the spirit of chaos, moved closer, her long pink hair swaying with each step. Her eyes, dark and filled with both curiosity and longing, fixed on Lyan. She was a succubus, but what always set her apart was her honesty—she couldn’t lie, not even to herself. She placed a hand on Lyan’s arm, her lips curving into a seductive smile. "We’ve waited for you, you know. You didn’t forget us, did you, Master?" she whispered, her voice a mix of teasing and genuine emotion.

Sylphia, the wind spirit, stayed back, her green hair partly hiding her face as she looked at him with wide eyes. She was always timid, always hesitant, and her voice came out as a stammer. "W-welcome back, L-Lyan," she managed, her cheeks pink as she glanced away shyly.

Lyan stood there, taking it all in—the warmth, the familiarity, the sense of home he hadn’t realized he was missing. Each of them was a part of him, a part of the life he had tried to leave behind perhaps, but also a part of the present, a part of who he was now. The spirits looked at him with eyes that held hope, patience, and a longing that mirrored his own.

He moved further into the room, his eyes meeting each of theirs. "It’s been a while,"