"Can I leave now…" Ricky's voice echoed in the dim chamber—calm, composed, and utterly unfazed. The air around him shimmered faintly with residual energy, as if the trial itself still trembled in disbelief at what had just occurred. His wings flicked once behind him, casting fractured shadows across the crystalline floor.
The Guardian spirit didn't answer.
She stood frozen in place, eyes wide, as though time had momentarily forgotten her. The disbelief etched on her face contrasted sharply with the cold poise she'd maintained until now. Only when Ricky repeated the question—his voice carrying the weight of certainty rather than arrogance—did she slowly, mechanically nod.
"Y-Yes, master…" Her words barely left her lips, brittle and distant, like the faint crack of thin ice under pressure.
Ricky's antennae twitched slightly. Master?
