Chapter 29: Lunch & Life-Or-Death?
Chapter 29: Lunch & Life-Or-Death?
The Royal Academy restaurant was a far cry from a chaotic student cafeteria. It operated more like a high-end, fast-casual establishment native to the world of Myst—where patrons placed their orders with an efficient staff and received smoking, perfectly seasoned dishes in a matter of minutes. It was fast food, but elevated to an art form.
Yet, the moment Princess Lana and Loki crossed the threshold and approached their designated table, Loki felt an overwhelming urge to turn on his heel, unleash a string of curses, or physically flip the mahogany surface.
Seated before him were four people he knew entirely too well: Thorin Sky, Prince Vali Balder, the widowed former Vice Principal Lisa Swallow, and Ayala the Amazon.
To make matters worse, the six-top table presented a calculated logistical nightmare. Only two seats remained vacant. Vali had engineered the arrangement maliciously, though he hadn't anticipated Loki's arrival. An open space sat between Vali and Thorin, explicitly intended to draw Lana into their orbit. The only remaining spot was directly opposite her, sandwiched tightly between the imposing figures of Ayala and Lisa.
"Sister, I saved your seat next to Sir Thorin," Vali called out, a smooth, manufactured smile playing on his lips.
Lana froze. In the rigid arena of royal etiquette, she had no justifiable reason to refuse her brother. Sitting with Ayala and Lisa would not only look bizarrely improper, but it would also force Loki into the seat next to Vali. Biting her inner lip to keep her composure, she reluctantly accepted her fate.
"Sorry I'm late," Lana said, smoothing her skirts as she sat down. "Our Summoner class was entirely too fascinating, and the instructor held us until the final bell."
Loki offered a silent prayer of thanks to Lana. By omitting the fact that she had personally invited him, she signaled a sharp willingness to drop the matter and let him escape the awkward gathering.
Loki glanced toward the partition. In this establishment, servants were strictly segregated to the bustling main dining area, while teachers and noble students enjoyed the privacy of the inner tier.
"Hello, Thorin," Loki said, catching his brother's eye. "Don't forget we're riding back to the estate together later. See you."
Catching the unspoken cue, Thorin waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, go grab a bite with Shehuang then."
While servants were barred from the inner sanctum, students were perfectly free to dine in the general seating area. But just as Loki spun on his heel to make a swift exit, an unexpected voice cut through the ambient chatter.
"Count Sky, it would be terribly rude of us to let you dine elsewhere when a perfectly good seat remains open," Ayala said. The six-foot-four, redheaded Amazon leaned back, her voice carrying an eerie, uncharacteristic warmth. "Besides, I should like to get to know my student a bit better."
A phantom chill raced down Loki's spine. Knowing now that Ayala and the seven-foot-tall Seventh Queen were close confidants, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. He couldn't help but wonder if the King deliberately surrounded himself with such towering powerhouses.
"Teacher Ayala is entirely correct," Lisa Swallow chimed in, her smile dripping with practiced sweetness. "You are one of my pupils as well. Please, join us."
Loki shot a sideways glance at Vali, instantly suspecting a trap. Vali looked entirely innocent of this specific development, though he was visibly thrilled by it.
"That's right, Count Sky," Vali added smoothly. "You arrived with my sister, so please, stay and enjoy the cuisine. It's my treat."
Thorin, entirely oblivious to the undercurrents of dread, grinned broadly at his brother. "Come on, Loki. It's every schoolboy's dream to sit between two of the academy's most beautiful instructors, isn't it?"
I am going to strangle him later, Loki thought, suppressing the urge to physically trade places with his brother.
Relying heavily on the grueling etiquette training drilled into him by Duchess Sylvia, Loki forced a polite nod and slipped into the vacant seat. "It seems destiny insists I join you all."
With the towering Amazon powerhouse on his left and the disgraced former Vice Principal on his right, Loki signaled a waiter. "Bring me a ribeye steak. And leave a bottle of whisky."
The tension at the table remained thick enough to cut with a dagger.
"Sister," Vali began, leaning across the table to address Lana, "have you shared the nature of your summons with Thorin yet? To manifest such a entity as a First Circle Summoner drew immense praise from our father."
Utilizing the keen Espionage insights he had inherited from Shehuang, Loki decoded the maneuver instantly. Vali was shamelessly inflating his sister’s prestige, dangling her allure directly in front of Thorin while trying to make Loki look inadequate by comparison.
Lana, however, looked entirely uncomfortable with the praise. She waved a dismissive hand, her gaze flickering toward Loki. "He is merely a Sixth Circle Storm Giant named Blitz. In truth, he only deigns to listen to me on occasion. His raw strength far eclipses my own current capacity."
"For now," Vali corrected with an air of manufactured fraternal pride. "You are on the precipice of your Second Circle breakthrough. Your authority over him will solidify. Your future is blindingly bright."
Thorin, never one to let an opportunity for familial bragging slide, leaned forward to counter the Second Circle healer. "Well, Loki must have already broken through to the Third Circle by now. You two are moving at quite a clip, and she's a fair bit younger than my brother, too."
The revelation caused both Ayala and Lisa to cast sharp, evaluating glances at Loki. In the realm of Myst, a mage or warrior’s true Circle level remained completely masked from perception until they actively channeled their mana or aura. Both women, existing as formidable Seventh and Eighth Circle powerhouses respectively, had operating under the assumption that Loki was still stagnant at the Second Circle.
To hear he had already ascended to the Third was nothing short of alarming.
The progression was critical. Upon reaching the Fourth Circle, a Summoner unlocked the ability to call forth their second lifelong Summons, officially crossing the threshold into a matured, mid-tier powerhouse. True geopolitical relevance, however, only manifested at the Seventh Circle—the milestone where a caster unlocked their third and final lifelong Summons, extended their natural lifespan, and gained the destructive capability to alter the fates of nations. To the apex entities of the world, anyone beneath the Seventh Circle was merely a child playing with sparks.
Even Shehuang’s evolutionary path was naturally capped at the Seventh Circle—a ceiling absolute for the apex strain of the Lamia species in Myst. However, Loki knew a secret. Once he unlocked his high-tier Summoner perks and bestowed them upon her, she would receive a hidden, rule-breaking Circle upgrade.
Thorin wasn't finished hammering the nail into Vali's ego. "Not only that, but Duchess Sylvia herself noted that Loki will likely breach the Fourth Circle in a mere two months, well before his developmental plateau sets in."
Loki couldn't help but admire his brother's accidental cruelty. Vali, who was a full year older than them, was still struggling to finalize his own Third Circle breakthrough. In a few casual sentences, Thorin had utterly demolished Vali's carefully constructed narrative.
Lana smiled, adding fuel to the fire. "Indeed. When Thorin and I visited the estate a few days ago, Sir Loki was already deeply immersed in his Third Circle grimoires. He will likely master them within a week."
Tired of having his achievements debated like a prize stallion, Loki decided to take the reins.
"Actually, the mastery concludes tonight," Loki said, his tone entirely casual. "I have already fully assimilated Buff Summons. I require only two more incantations, which will be finalized by tomorrow morning. Frankly, if I hadn't been forced to attend lectures today and could have remained in my study, the process would already be complete."
He offered a helpless, deeply punchable shrug, intentionally dealing a cascade of psychological critical hits across the table.
Vali bristled internally, reminded precisely of why Sylvia had scorned him. Lisa looked visibly sick; if she hadn't blindly followed Vali's machinations, she wouldn't have forfeited her prestigious administrative position, and she might have secured the favor of a rising magical prodigy.
Ayala’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. As an apex warrior, she understood the terrifying implications of Buff Summons. With that specific amplification spell, Loki could temporarily elevate a Seventh Circle summon into a cataclysmic Eighth Circle entity—one entirely capable of handing Ayala her own head on a silver platter.
The agonizing silence was mercifully broken by the arrival of their platters.
As the meal commenced, a delicate web of micro-aggressions and silent calculations unfolded over the polished silverware.
Vali continued his transparent choreography, dropping subtle hints to guide Lana into playing the doting companion to Thorin—nudging her to pour his vintage wine or offering samples of her own delicacies. Thorin accepted the royal pampering with eager, oblivious pride. Loki kept his gaze fixed entirely on his steak; he knew Lana was acting out of pure political duress, and he harbored no resentment for the theater.
"Count Loki," Lisa Swallow murmured, breaking her silence as she lifted a crystal decanter. "Allow me to pour this for you, and offer a formal toast of apology. I was inexcusably combative during your wedding banquet and on the academy’s opening day. As your magic instructor, I genuinely desire that we forge a more harmonious path forward. Cheers."
Loki raised his glass, though the rich, amber whisky tasted like ash on his tongue. Watching the once-haughty Vice Principal swallow her immense pride to put on a submissive display was frankly pathetic. Yet, in the grand calculus of survival, a humbled enemy was far better than an active saboteur. He offered a flawless, diplomatic nod and accepted the gesture.
He was well aware of why Lisa had occupied the Vice Principal's chair in the first place; she was a master of Lightning Magic and a direct apprentice to Queen Leandra. Her sudden compliance meant only one thing: Queen Leandra had personally broken her own student to appease him.
Beside him, Ayala was enduring a private, internal purgatory. She sat in absolute silence, her entire worldview crumbling beneath the weight of successive, impossible revelations.
First, her covert investigations had confirmed a staggering bloodline secret: Loki was the direct great-grandchild of the mythical Amazon Queen.
Second, his terrifying aptitude for the arcane matched the absolute physical mastery of the proudest Amazon warriors—all while he maintained the lethal close-quarters instincts of an elite Vanguard. Third, in a calculation of pure, unrestricted combat, she no longer possessed the absolute confidence that she could best him. Fourth, her long-standing espionage mission had finally yielded a tangible trace of Tyrfing, the lost, holy relic of her people.
But it was the final realization that truly terrified her. The suffocating pressure building within her chest was not the familiar, cold urge of murderous intent. It was an emotion forbidden to an Amazon instructor: an ancient, pull of profound longing.
Had either Loki or Ayala possessed the memories of their forgotten past lives—of the legendary, god-defying children they had forged together, and the catastrophic entities they had slaughtered side by side—the magnetic pull would have made perfect sense.
Torn violently between her sacred cultural laws, her unwavering loyalty to her Queen, her military mission, and the terrifying fire consuming her heart, Ayala made a desperate, fatalistic choice.
If she challenged him and emerged victorious, she would validate thousands of years of Amazon supremacy, fulfill her mission, and eliminate a perceived existential threat to her kingdom. If she failed and perished, she would be permanently liberated from the agonizing cage of conflicting loyalties, extinguishing the confusing fire in her heart along with her very life.
She knew she possessed, at best, a fifty-fifty chance of survival. But she also knew that once Loki crossed into the Fourth Circle, that window would slam shut forever.
Loki chewed his final bite of ribeye, watching Lana delicately tend to his brother. Lisa was quietly conversing with Vali, who was now pointedly ignoring Loki’s existence, clearly suffocated by a profound sense of magical inadequacy.
Loki raised his glass, draining the last of the amber liquid. The whisky burned pleasantly down his throat, radiating a sudden heat through his chest.
Then, the temperature in the room plummeted.
He had spent the entire hour deliberately ignoring the towering redhead to his left, completely missing the volatile, suffocating Shura Aura condensing around her.
Bang!
An explosive strike rattled the table, shattering a crystal wine glass and instantly silencing the entire dining hall. Every eye in the restaurant snapped toward their table.
Ayala stood at her full, imposing height, staring down at Loki. Her jaw was locked, her knuckles white, her entire posture coiled like a apex predator moments from a lethal pounce.
Then, seamlessly, the chaotic violence of her energy shifted.
A profound, unnatural stillness washed over her features. Her expression became serene, almost peaceful. If Loki’s internal danger instincts weren't screaming at an absolute deafening pitch, he would have found her primal, raw beauty utterly captivating—a ghost echo of a past-life adoration.
It was the manifestation of a Calm Rage.
Ayala pointed a solitary, steady finger at him. With her other hand, she snatched a silver steak knife from the table, dragged the edge ruthlessly across her right palm, and slammed her bleeding hand directly over her heart. The crimson fluid smeared across her uniform, leaving a stark, horrifying handprint.
"Loki, Son of Emma, Grandson of Arngrim, Great-grandson of the Line of..." Ayala’s voice rumbled through the silent hall, intentionally omitting the final maternal name of the Amazon Queen to safeguard the secret. "I challenge you, here and now, to a ritual duel of life or death. Only one of us walks away from the sands. You and I both know the cosmic necessity of this. Do you accept?"
The entire restaurant erupted into low, panicked murmurs at the sight of the bloody palm print—the absolute, legally binding vow of mortal combat native to the Amazon culture. Yet, amidst the rising chaos, Loki remained entirely motionless.
"Have you truly weighed the consequences of this, Teacher Ayala?" Loki asked, his voice deadly quiet. "I will not be entering the arena merely as a Knight bound by chivalry. I will utilize the absolute entirety of my power as a Summoner. You will lose. And you will die."
Ayala did not flinch. A genuine, radiant smile broke across her stern features. "If you dared to hold back against me, I would consider it an insult to my honor. If I fall, I will die knowing my path was true to our blood. I demand to face you at your absolute zenith. Convince me that my execution is wrong!"
A faint rustle of scales sounded beside Loki’s chair. Without drawing a single eye, Shehuang materialized seamlessly in his shadow, her voice a barely audible hiss against his ear. “Accept the terms, Master Loki. Request a private sanctuary, and command my full strength. Do not let sentimentality dull your blade. The woman is exceptionally lethal.”
Loki offered a microscopic nod. His life, and the lives of those bound to his soul, rested on the outcome.
"I will grant you your duel on one absolute condition," Loki declared, locking eyes with the emerald gaze of the Amazon. "We fight in absolute isolation. A privacy clause. No witnesses, no records, and no external interference. Do you agree?"
Ayala’s eyes flared with an intense, burning anticipation, eager to drag the full, monstrous reality of his hidden strength into the light. She threw her head back, unleashing a low, guttural laugh.
"The terms are struck! You truly are a magnificent devil, Loki Sky! Follow me to my private training grounds. The arena is prepared. You need only raise your privacy barriers. Let us begin!"
Ignoring the frantic protests of Vali, the stunned silence of Thorin, and the wide, terrified eyes of Princess Lana, Loki stood up, adjusted his coat, and calmly followed the towering Amazon out into the corridor.
Game, Set, Match.
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