Chapitre 3: Gesture of Affection
As Ambrose entered the Mission Hall, the atmosphere shifted to one of focused determination.
The rich scent of ancient redwood mingled with the faint fragrance of incense, creating an ambiance that resonated with the essence of martial arts and cultivation.
His eyes were immediately drawn to the main lobby, a spacious area adorned with intricate carvings on the walls and a polished marble floor that reflected the warm glow of the hanging lanterns.
The lobby served as a central hub, with disciples bustling about, discussing their training, sharing insights, and honing their skills.
At the left side of the lobby, Ambrose's attention was captured by a sturdy table where a bald sect elder presided.
The elder, his face etched with years of wisdom and experience, was known for his discerning eye and insightful guidance.
It was here that disciples gathered to receive missions, seeking to challenge themselves and contribute to the sect's mission of combating demonic forces.
The sect elder stood tall, emanating an aura of immense power and wisdom.
Despite the absence of hair on his head, his baldness only accentuated his striking presence.
His features were weathered and etched with the lines of a life well-lived, telling tales of battles fought and secrets guarded.
Clad in a plain red robe, the fabric flowed gracefully around him, swaying gently with each step.
The robe, though simple in design, carried an air of significance and authority.
Its vibrant hue caught the eye, demanding attention and respect.
As he moved, the character exuded an undeniable sense of power, an invisible force that seemed to ripple through the air.
The elder's name was Seraphus.
Upon witnessing Ambrose's arrival, the disciples present in the hall instinctively recognized the weight of his presence.
In an instant, their voices hushed, their whispers fading into reverent silence.
It was a response born out of both admiration and fear, an acknowledgment of the extraordinary aura surrounding Ambrose.
Within the sect, the knowledge of Ambrose's power permeated throughout its members, akin to an open secret.
However, it was not solely his abilities that rendered him remarkable, but rather the remarkable lineage he inherited from his mother.
She possessed formidable power that had captivated the attention of everyone within the sect.
Thus, as Ambrose entered the Missions hall for the very first time, the disciples' hushed tones and reverential demeanor were not only a reflection of his potential but also an acknowledgment of the immense legacy carried within his bloodline.
Even the mighty elder Seraphus, known for his wisdom and authority within the sect, could not help but rise from his seat in a display of utmost deference when his gaze fell upon Ambrose.
In a profound act of reverence, Seraphus inclined his head and gracefully bowed before the young newcomer, acknowledging Ambrose's significance and acknowledging the power that emanated from his heritage.
This act carried great symbolic weight, for Seraphus, who had witnessed countless individuals enter the Missions hall over his long tenure, has now bowed in front of Ambrose.
The combination of Ambrose's arrival and the weight of his lineage commanded such respect that even a revered elder like Seraphus felt compelled to pay homage.
As Seraphus straightened himself from his bow, his eyes gleamed with a mixture of admiration and anticipation.
He understood that the emergence of Ambrose signaled a potential shift in the sect's dynamics, a new chapter infused with remarkable possibilities.
With his gesture of respect, Seraphus conveyed his belief in Ambrose's potential and his willingness to support him on his journey.
The profound silence that had enveloped the hall persisted, as the disciples and onlookers observed this remarkable exchange between elder and newcomer.
It was a moment etched in their memories, a testament to the significance and power that Ambrose embodied.
Ambrose's footsteps echoed in the hallowed halls of the Missions sanctuary, a place where shadows danced with ancient secrets.
His every movement carried a weight of resignation, tinged with the knowledge that the circumstances unfolding were a result of his mother's overprotective nature—a legacy that had both shielded and burdened him throughout his life.
With an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, Ambrose approached the table where Elder Seraphus sat, his presence commanding and enigmatic.
The disciples who had been conversing among themselves, their faces etched with a mixture of reverence and trepidation, hastily dispersed like startled specters.
They understood the magnitude of the power Ambrose possessed, a force bestowed upon him by blood, intertwined with ancient forces that stretched beyond mortal comprehension.
"Elder," Ambrose's voice carried a note of humility and respect, his brow furrowing ever so slightly in deference, "this disciple greets you."
His words hung in the air, a fragile thread connecting the present with the weight of the past, where generations of disciples had bowed before the authority and wisdom of the elders.
Elder Seraphus, his gaze as unfathomable as the depths of a murky abyss, regarded Ambrose through eyes that held secrets untold.
"Young Sect Master, how can this old man help you?" Seraphus's voice trembled slightly, his throat constricting as if weighed down by unspoken apprehensions.
He was acutely aware of the reason behind Ambrose's presence in the solemn Missions Hall, a realization that made his mouth dry and his heart skip a beat.
Ambrose, ever mindful of the elder's unease, took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on Seraphus with a mixture of determination and respect.
He understood that the elder possessed knowledge about his background—a background woven with the threads of a mother's unwavering love and overprotection.
Seraphus was aware of the delicate balance that needed to be struck, ensuring both the fulfillment of Ambrose's aspirations and his safety.
"Sect elder," Ambrose's voice resonated with a hint of longing and anticipation, "this disciple seeks to embark on his first demon-hunting mission."
Seraphus's forehead furrowed, lines etching themselves deeper as the weight of responsibility settled upon his weary shoulders.
He knew the immense power that dwelled behind Ambrose, a power inherited from a mother who had sheltered him with unyielding devotion.
Seraphus understood the consequences of granting Ambrose any mission—too easy, and the young disciple's thirst for challenges would remain unquenched; too dangerous, and it could unleash a storm of consequences upon himself and his beloved family.
The elder's mind raced his thoughts a tangled web of strategies and considerations.
The mission he would bestow upon Ambrose had to walk a fine line—an endeavor demanding enough to satisfy the young Sect Master's hunger for growth, yet safe enough to avoid invoking the wrath of a mother's protective fury.
Finally, Seraphus took out a mission, that was relatively safe and equally exciting.
"Young Master, this is the perfect mission for you."
He took out a paper slip and gave it to Ambrose.
"The mission is to go to the Seven Perilous Citiy and extinguish a stray soul that is wreaking havoc there," Seraphus said.
Ambrose accepted the paper slip and looked through it, the slip contained a general map of the Seven Perilours City and some information about the mission.
With a silent nod, Ambrose accepted the paper slip containing his first mission assignment.
As he turned away from the Mission Hall, he couldn't help but feel the weight of his mother's influence and power that loomed over the sect.
Aware of the discomfort it caused others, Ambrose chose not to linger and make the people present even more uneasy.
Leaving the grand hall behind, he stepped out into the vibrant surroundings of the sect, his mind filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
Ambrose understood the privilege and responsibility bestowed upon him as the son of the esteemed sect master, but he was determined to prove himself on his own merits.
"Fluffy, let's go," Ambrose called out to his loyal companion, approaching the magnificent creature to mountset setting off on their journey.
But just as he was about to do so, an eerie transformation occurred in the sky above.
The once serene atmosphere turned ominous as the heavens themselves seemed to be tainted with a deep shade of crimson red.
A chill ran down the spines of the disciples who had gathered outside the Mission Hall, their senses heightened by an unexplained foreboding.
Startled by the sudden change, Ambrose halted in his tracks, his eyes widening with a mix of apprehension and shame, he knew what this meant.
As the tension thickened, Seraphus, and other elders emerged from the Mission Hall.
His voice resounded with urgency as he called upon everyone to bow down in reverence.
"Sect Master is coming! Prepare yourselves, disciples, for the arrival of our esteemed leader," Seraphus proclaimed, his words carrying a mix of awe and respect.
As Seraphus's words echoed through the air, the disciples outside the Missions Hall swiftly obeyed, bowing their heads in reverence and anticipation.
This was a rare occasion, a momentous event where they would finally catch a glimpse of the Sect Master, the embodiment of power and authority within their sect.
But their eager anticipation quickly transformed into confusion and disbelief.
Instead of the Sect Master's arrival, an unexpected twist of fate unfolded before their eyes.
The once ominous crimson sky seemed to swirl and converge into a whirling tornado of red hues, spiraling with an otherworldly force.
Before anyone could react, the tempestuous vortex descended upon Ambrose and his faithful companion, Fluffy.
The disciples watched in awe and horror as the swirling vortex snatched them up, lifting them off the ground and into its chaotic embrace.
Gasps of astonishment filled the air, mingling with cries of alarm and confusion.
The disciples were left stunned and bewildered, their expectations shattered as their Sect Master's arrival took an unforeseen turn.
In an instant, Ambrose and Fluffy were enveloped by the crimson cyclone, disappearing from the disciples' sight.
The vortex's ferocious power carried them away, leaving behind only a lingering sense of uncertainty and apprehension.
Only Seraphus and a select few elders knew the true significance of the Sect Master's arrival and her intention to take Ambrose away without revealing herself to others.
The Sect Master, being Ambrose's overprotective mother, had decided to personally handle the matter at hand.
Using her formidable mystical powers, the Sect Master swiftly grasped Ambrose and disappeared from sight, leaving Seraphus and the bewildered disciples behind.
Seraphus couldn't help but release a weary sigh, his heart heavy with concern.
As an elder and someone intimately familiar with the Sect Master's temperament, Seraphus understood the potential consequences of his decision regarding Ambrose's mission.
The Sect Master's protective nature often led to her wrath when she deemed Ambrose to be in harm's way or facing unnecessary risks.
Seraphus prayed fervently that the mission he had chosen for Ambrose wouldn't incur her anger, for it could very well be the end of him.
However, deep down, Seraphus knew that the Sect Master's actions were guided by love and a desire to ensure Ambrose's safety.
Despite the potential repercussions, he trusted in her judgment and her mystical abilities.
The Sect Master possessed wisdom and power that far surpassed his own, and she undoubtedly had reasons for her actions.
As Fluffy and Ambrose materialized in the grand hall, their surroundings took on an ominous and foreboding atmosphere.
The hall itself was constructed with red-colored stones, giving it an eerie and hellish ambiance.
The architecture exuded a sense of power and darkness, with intricate designs that seemed to embody the essence of the underworld.
Dominating the center of the hall was a grand throne, crafted entirely from bones.
Its sheer size and imposing presence commanded attention, symbolizing authority and dominance.
The bones that composed the throne were intricately arranged, forming an intricate pattern that spoke of ancient rituals and arcane practices.
Perched upon the bone throne was the Sect Master herself, a woman of breathtaking allure and undeniable power.
Clad in a resplendent black gown that cascaded around her like liquid darkness, she exuded an air of regality and command.
The luxurious fabric hugged her curvaceous form, accentuating her every contour.
Her long, obsidian-black hair mirrored Ambrose's own, adding to the mystique of their connection.
However, it was her golden eyes that truly captivated him.
They held an otherworldly radiance, shimmering with wisdom and an intensity that seemed to penetrate deep into Ambrose's soul.
In those golden orbs, he sensed both a profound understanding and an unfathomable depth of emotion.
As Ambrose stood before the Sect Master, he couldn't help but be in awe of her presence.
It was as if time itself held its breath, acknowledging her authority and influence. Yet, beneath the veneer of power, he detected a hint of concern and tenderness, a mother's love concealed behind the mask of a formidable leader.
"Mother," Ambrose murmured, his voice filled with reverence and respect.
He gracefully lowered himself to one knee, bowing before the Sect Master, his eyes fixed on the ground.
Fluffy, sensing the solemnity of the moment, took a few steps back and followed suit, offering a respectful bow in front of the esteemed leader.
The Sect Master remained seated upon her bone throne, her expression unreadable.
She regarded her son and his loyal companion with a mixture of pride and concern, her golden eyes shimmering with a complex array of emotions.
Silence enveloped the grand hall, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as the Sect Master shifted in her seat.
Her voice, when it finally emerged, held a regal tone tinged with a hint of tenderness.
"Rise, Ambrose," she commanded her words resonating through the chamber.
With measured grace, Ambrose and Fluffy stood, their gazes meeting the Sect Master's piercing eyes once more.
"Show me the mission that Seraphus has given you." She said in a gentle tone.
Ambrose's grip tightened around the mission slip, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension as he mustered the courage to confront his mother.
He turned to face her, her gaze fixated upon him with a possessive intensity.
"Mother," his voice trembled slightly, a delicate balance between fear and determination, "it wasn't Seraphus's fault. This mission... it's something I desire. And you, in the past, made a promise that when I turned eighteen, you would grant me the chance to go on a demon hunting mission."
His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken tensions and the weight of their twisted bond.
Ambrose could feel his mother's possessive love for him, a love that bordered on obsession, entwined with a dark undercurrent of control.
Yet, he hoped that his plea would pierce through the veil of her obsession and remind her of the promises she had made.
A flicker of recognition danced across her eyes, and her smile widened ever so slightly.
It was a smile both captivating and chilling, a smile that held a glimmer of understanding.
She nodded, acknowledging his words, and in that moment, Ambrose's heart swayed between relief and trepidation.
With a flick of his hand, Ambrose summoned his magical prowess, and the mission slip vanished from his grasp, only to materialize in the outstretched palm of the sect leader.
She took hold of the slip, her eyes gleaming with a possessive hunger as she scanned the contents.
Ambrose watched, his breath caught in his throat, as she considered the mission's nature and implications.
He knew that her decision would be driven not only by his desire but also by her need to protect and possess him, to ensure that no harm befell their bond.
After absorbing the contents of the slip, a twisted satisfaction twisted her lips into a sinister smile.
The mission, deemed relatively safe by her standards, allowed her to release her hold on Ambrose, if only for a short while.
Her possessive gaze shifted towards her son, admiration and obsession intermingling within her darkened eyes.
As her eyes swept across the grand hall, a realization struck her, no one else remained within its expanse except for Ambrose and Fluffy, his loyal feline companion.
A sense of secrecy shrouded the empty space, amplifying the intensity of their peculiar connection.
A wicked grin spread across her face, and her voice, dripping with a mix of affection and demand, broke the silence. "I shall grant you this opportunity, my dear Ambrose," she whispered, her tone laced with a dangerous tenderness. "But know this, I have one condition."
Ambrose's heart raced, uncertainty mingling with the elation of his impending freedom.
He regarded his mother, her presence both alluring and suffocating, unsure of what she would ask of him in return.
A twisted glimmer danced in her eyes as she continued, her voice a velvet-laden command. "Before you embark on this mission, my dear Ambrose, you shall grant me a gesture of affection. A simple embrace, a kiss."
The demand hung heavy in the air, mingling with the tension that wrapped around them like a suffocating veil.
It was a request that merged love with obsession, warmth with manipulation, a stark reminder of the twisted dynamic that governed their relationship.
Ambrose's mind whirled, torn between his desire for freedom and the weight of his mother's demanding affection.
He knew that the embrace she sought was more than a simple gesture, was a symbol of surrender, an affirmation of their codependent bond.
With a mixture of resignation and determination, he stepped forward, his arms opening wide.
"Very well, Mother," he murmured, his voice a blend of submission and defiance.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone