Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Oath and the Inferno

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Y/N, grappling with the weight of Sandra's plea, found himself at a crossroads of history and destiny. The memories he had witnessed were not just figments of the past; they were cries for help that resonated through time, seeking him out. The echoes of the knights' oaths bound him to a cause that was both alien and eerily familiar.

"Information," he whispered to himself, a beacon of light in the fog of confusion. To navigate the unknown waters he found himself in, he needed to understand the currents that had led him here.

"Sandra... before I can act, I need to comprehend the full scope of this narrative. Tell me about the knights and the Aeon," Y/N implored, his touch on her shoulder a silent promise of support.

Sandra, her youthful face marred by the gravity of her situation, gathered the shards of her composure. "I'm sorry..." she began, the words a heavy burden on her tongue, "...things have been so dire."

Y/N's silent gaze was an unspoken nudge, urging her to weave the story that lay fragmented before them.

"The knights," she continued, her voice a somber melody, "were the steadfast guardians of Beauty's symbol, champions bound by oath to protect their people. And the lady... she is my mother, the Aeon of Beauty, Idrila."

With a deep breath, Y/N allowed the revelation to sink in, his mind connecting the ethereal dots that Sandra had laid out before him. "So, Idrila, the Aeon of Beauty, is your mother, and the knights are her loyal protectors," he echoed for clarity.

A sparkle of childlike joy flashed across Sandra's face as she nodded, grateful for his understanding.

But Y/N's mind was not yet at peace; another piece of the puzzle beckoned to him. "What became of them?" he asked, his voice a gentle probe into the sensitive history that Sandra held.

The question struck a chord of sorrow, and Sandra's body recoiled as if touched by a winter's chill. Sensing her distress, Y/N enveloped her in an embrace, a sanctuary from the storm of her emotions. Her response was a hug that sought solace, her arms reaching for warmth in the coldness of her reality.

The quiet of the cave was suddenly filled with a proclamation that stirred the air, "All Hail the Queen!" The voice, strong and resonant, drew their attention to its source.

Sandra, her spirits momentarily lifted by the familiar presence, called out, "Igris!"

Emerging from the shadows into the halo of light, the figure of Igris was revealed. His armor, adorned with the intricate designs of red roses, spoke of a chivalry that was timeless. His salute was one of reverence and unwavering loyalty.

"Greetings, I am Igris," he introduced himself, the very image of the knights from Sandra's memory made flesh. "And I have come to aid you in your mission, my liege."

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The confrontation between Jingliu and Mono, a dance of blades and burgeoning might, had escalated rapidly. Jingliu, propelled through the air by Mono's overwhelming force, managed to land deftly on her feet, only to find Mono already upon her, towering like a monolith of power.

Mono's eyes bore into her, "No matter your age, or how recently you've awakened to your power, you remain a child before me," she said, her voice a symphony of strength and grace. With a swing of her immense sword, Mono challenged Jingliu's resolve, each clash a test of wills.

Jingliu, teeth clenched, redirected the trajectory of Mono's blade, countering with a stab aimed with precision. "You are clever, but your experience is a sapling in a forest of ancients," Mono declared, her voice betraying no effort as she deftly sidestepped the attack, landing atop Jingliu's sword, a feather upon ice steel.

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