I Don't Need To Log Out

(Let's dance for the 100th chapter!!)

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The grand doors opened once more, and a hush fell over the banquet hall. The air seemed to thrum with anticipation as Zephyrion made his entrance.

Clad in a deep crimson cloak embroidered with gold thread, Zephyrion moved with the authority of a ruler who commanded respect.

His every step echoed in the hall, amplifying the aura of power that radiated from him.

Arlon observed the room carefully as everyone, including the saviors, stood in respect. Even the most hardened faces softened as Zephyrion passed, his piercing gaze scanning the crowd.

"Greetings, esteemed guests," Zephyrion began, his voice rich and commanding. "Today, we celebrate not only a significant victory against our shared enemy but also the strength and unity of Trion."

His words drew nods and murmurs of agreement from the attendees. Arlon noted the subtle shifts in expression among the gathered leaders.

Some were genuinely moved; others wore masks of civility, their eyes betraying thoughts of strategy and self-interest.

Zephyrion continued, "Let us remember that this victory belongs to all of us—Trionians and saviors alike. Together, we face the darkness and push it back. Together, we will forge a brighter future."

Applause rippled through the hall, though Arlon could feel the reluctance in some claps.

Zephyrion took his seat on the elevated platform, signaling the official start of the banquet.

Servants swept in like a choreographed wave, placing dishes on every table with practiced efficiency.

Arlon glanced at his tablemates. June and Maria were engaged in conversation, their expressions polite but guarded. Evan, meanwhile, was marveling at the spread of food.

"This... this is a feast fit for a king," he whispered, wide-eyed.

"You mean it's fit for Lord Zephyrion," Zack corrected with a smirk.

Pierre, ever the practical one, added, "Just don't eat too much, Evan. You don't want to look like you're here for the buffet."

"Speak for yourself," Evan retorted, already eyeing a platter of roasted meat.

Arlon tuned out their banter as a servant approached their table, carrying a sealed envelope. The man bowed slightly and handed it to Arlon the guide.

"A message for you, Sir Arlon," the servant said before retreating.

The copy broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. His eyes scanned the message quickly, his expression remaining neutral.

"What's that about?" Maria asked, noticing his subtle shift in demeanor.

"Just something I need to handle," Arlon replied cryptically, tucking the note into his pocket.

In truth, the message was a summons. A certain group of individuals wanted to speak with him during the banquet—a discussion that likely wouldn't be about celebration.

---

As the banquet progressed, Arlon excused himself from the table. Navigating through the crowd with practiced ease, he made his way toward a secluded corridor indicated in the note.

The atmosphere changed as he entered the private chamber.

Waiting inside were three individuals: a Magus with formal attire, a Beastman with a heavy build, and a woman whose race Arlon couldn't discern but whose sharp gaze hinted at experience.

All of them were wearing half masks, concealing their faces. Enjoy new stories from My Virtual Library Empire

"Sir Arlon," the Magus began, his tone formal. "Thank you for joining us."

Arlon inclined his head slightly. "You requested my presence. How can I assist you?"

Arlon still didn't know who they were, but they obviously weren't people to mess with.

The Beastman crossed his arms, his deep voice rumbling. "We've heard about your actions and your… affiliation with the saviors. We have questions about your intentions."

Arlon's eyes narrowed slightly. This was no mere curiosity. It was a test, probably from the anti-saviors. But he still couldn't be sure.

He could be tested by people who are against the anti-saviors. So, he couldn't answer prematurely.

"Trust is earned, not given," the woman said seeing his hesitation, her voice cool. "We just need to know where your loyalties lie."

Arlon's mind worked quickly. This was no time for false humility or hesitation. He met their gazes steadily.

"My loyalty lies with Trion," he said firmly.

The room fell silent as his words hung in the air. Finally, the Magus nodded slowly.

"Very well," he said. "We'll be watching. Before get back before the dancing session starts."

Arlon wondered why they summoned him for such a short and unnecessary conversation.

They didn't ask anything important.

Do they have some kind of skill to understand if someone is lying? This was a probability, but Arlon hadn't lied, so he was in the clear if that was the situation.

---

Meanwhile, back at the banquet hall...

"I wonder where Sir Arlon went," Maria said, glancing at the empty seat where the real Arlon had been.

"Obviously, he was summoned somewhere important," Lei replied, swirling her glass of sparkling juice. "There are plenty of influential people here. It's normal for someone like him to get hired or drafted by the higher-ups."

"Drafted? He's not an army recruit," Maria retorted.

"Close enough," Pierre chimed in with a grin. "Arlon the guide is probably negotiating his terms of service. Unlike our Arlon over there," he said, nodding toward Arlon, who was silently sipping from a goblet, "who only partially exists in Trion."

The group chuckled at the remark, not knowing Arlon was a full-timer here.

Just then, the copy returned to the table, offering a polite apology for his brief absence.

"I'm sorry for leaving so abruptly. I had to... attend to something," the copy said, sitting back down with perfect composure.

Evan raised an eyebrow. "Attend to something? That sounds suspiciously like secret agent stuff. Are you a spy, Sir Arlon?"

The copy simply gave a small smile. "Perhaps one day you'll find out."

Before Evan could probe further, the orchestra struck its first notes.

The soft melody floated through the air, signaling the start of the dance portion of the evening. All eyes turned toward the saviors' table.

"It's showtime," Zack muttered under his breath.

The saviors were to lead the dance, followed by other influential figures in the hall.

The order of participation was an unspoken hierarchy, with each person's choice of timing subtly signaling their status.

Arlon rose first, extending his hand toward June with a slight bow.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, his tone formal yet genuine.

June blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his uncharacteristically polished demeanor. Then, smiling, she accepted his hand.

"Of course," she replied, rising gracefully from her seat.

The pair moved to the center of the room, drawing the attention of every eye in the hall. Their steps were measured and elegant—a testament to their crash-course dancing lessons.

Following closely behind, the copy of Arlon stood and mirrored the gesture, offering his hand to Maria.

"Would you grant me the honor of this dance?" the copy asked, bowing slightly.

Maria giggled, clearly enjoying the formality. "I would be delighted, Sir Arlon," she said, playing along.

As they joined the first pair, Evan stood abruptly, turning to Carmen. "Your turn, let's go!" he said, grabbing her hand.

Carmen yelped. "Evan, wait! I wasn't—"

Soon, Pierre, Lei, Zack, and Carole followed, taking their place among the saviors on the dance floor.

Just as the attention began to shift toward the high-ranking Maguses, Ejen and the head of the Magus Council who were thought to be second to the saviors, Zephyrion rose from his elevated seat.

The room stilled as he approached Lady Rael, extending his hand.

"Lady Rael," he said with a faint smile. "Would you do me the honor?"

The hall was abuzz with whispers.

Zephyrion's choice to dance before the other heads was a clear political statement—one that even Arlon, from his place on the dance floor, couldn't ignore.

Or maybe, Arlon thought, this wasn't political at all. He didn't know anymore.

Zack leaned toward Evan and whispered, "That's some boss-level power move. Take notes."

Evan, still attempting to keep up with Carmen's improved rhythm, muttered, "Forget notes. I need a teleportation spell to get me out of this."