Cameraman Never Dies-Chapter 194: Ah, my good sir, let us settle this dispute with the grace of gentlemen

The sun hung over the City of Wistmere that day like a stubborn celebrity refusing to leave the spotlight. Its rays beamed down with all the enthusiasm of a daytime commercial, and yet, for dragons, it was just another scorcher.

Especially since the Drakonis Cloud Weaver, a ship so flamboyant it practically deserved its own fan club, was docking under the cool, forgiving shade of the mansion's docking station.

Liam and Judge, the resident "latecomers of legend," were the last to disembark, at least as much as they knew.

Their exit was performed with the same unhurried act as a snail in a leisurely race — proving, quite definitively, that rushing is for mere children and, apparently, being young at heart, they did not consider themselves children.

Meanwhile, Amber — whose enthusiasm for family reunions could rival that of a puppy spotting its favorite human — bustled forward with the speed of a caffeinated squirrel.

She practically collided with the gangplank, arms outstretched like a pair of welcome mats, to embrace her two younger brothers the moment they stepped off.

"Oh, how I missed you both!" she declared with the zeal of someone who'd just discovered that hugs are the universal cure for loneliness.

Her embrace was so earnest that Liam and Judge's faces scrunched up in expressions of pure, sibling-despised reluctance — the kind of look that every brother perfects when their overly affectionate sister ambushes them.

Their combined expressions could have easily been mistaken for a silent protest against unrequested hugs, a protest that was as universally understood as the phrase "Not now, please. I am busy acting mature."

Just as the family reunion threatened to burst into full-blown melodrama, a mysterious figure emerged from the mansion's backdrop. A black-haired lady, who carried herself with the poise of a ballet dancer moonlighting as a ninja, made her presence known.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Young Masters," she intoned in a voice as cool as the other side of the pillow, while delicately cradling the handle of her sword as if it were a vintage teacup, and bowing slightly — ah, the Drakonis salute. "I am Nero, your sister Amber's teacher."

The two brothers, despite their internal grumbling about the ridiculousness of being called "young masters" in a setting that was part fantasy epic, offered polite nods.

"I am Judge Drakonis," Judge said,

"I am Liam Drakonis," Liam said at the same time.

Their simultaneous reply introductions were so perfectly synchronized that one could almost imagine them practicing in front of a mirror.

They paused, each giving the other an intense stare that mixed sibling rivalry with a vigor of dramatic air, as if they were about to perform in the intense staring championship finals.

"Did you not know it is not polite to speak when elders are speaking?" Liam chided, his tone was a blend of ire and the dry humor of someone who's read too many etiquette manuals.

"Oh, pardon me, dear brother," Judge retorted with a measured tone, as if he were apologizing for a minor breach of royal protocol. "I had heard that when greeting a person of great strength, it is customary for the stronger one to speak first — what you said belongs in the realm of political debate, not warrior greetings."

"Huh?" Liam straightened up, the kind of action that could cause friction and potentially start a mini-tornado of bad attitudes. "You're using the fact that you once defeated a demon as your trump card? You wanna have a go?"

"Yeah, let's end this and see who's got better guts," Judge growled, the bravado in his voice rivaling that of an action hero in an overly dramatic movie trailer.

"Yeah, let's end this with a spar," Liam shot back, shoving his shoulder in Judge's direction. "I'd like to put you in your place. Remember, arrogance comes with a price — and today, it seems, that price might just be your dignity."

Before Judge could launch into a comeback that would rival a Shakespearean soliloquy, Amber intervened in a flash of maternal instinct.

With a swift, well-aimed fist, she smacked both of their heads. Both her fists were glowing with grey ether that seemed like liquidated flame, wavy but burning.

"That is enough, you two!" she scolded, her voice echoing through the station like the sound of a referee's final whistle at a particularly rowdy boxing match.

Both brothers clutched their now-ethereal heads while mysterious fumes — presumably the residue of their scattered egos — drifted into oblivion.

"What was that for?" Liam demanded, rubbing his forehead as if trying to erase the memory of his impulsive outburst. This time, Judge wisely fell silent, opting for the maturity of a monk meditating in the midst of chaos.

"What's wrong? You both were practically exuding your wills like broken ether catalysts," Amber chastised Liam. "Try to hold it in, would you?"

"But Judge — " Liam began, only to be cut off by Amber's rapid-fire admonishment.

"Don't blame others, Liam — that is childish."

A brief pause followed as Liam's fiery spirit cooled down, though not without a lingering spark of mischief in his eyes. Judge although it was best not to, could not help but chuckle after Liam got scolded.

Seizing the opportunity for a final bit of sibling tomfoolery, Liam grabbed Judge by the collar. In an instant more mysterious than a magician's disappearing act, the two vanished — leaving behind nothing but a faint echo of their impending clash and a very relieved Amber.

As the echo of their disappearance faded, Nero cleared her throat. "I understand what you were trying to do, Amber," she remarked dryly, "but you must refrain from using ether for such trivial matters." Her tone was that of a seasoned teacher scolding unruly students — if those students happened to be two heads of an impending family duel.

"Understood, master," Amber replied dutifully, though her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "But where did you send them?"

Just then, the door to the docking platform swung open with the dramatic flair of a grand entrance. Gereon, affectionately known as the dragon lord(and sometimes Grandpa, depending on the hour), strolled in from the ship.

"I teleported them," he announced with a nonchalant shrug, as if discussing the weather rather than the whereabouts of two feuding siblings. "I sent them to the inner arena. Let them duke it out all they want there. I've also delivered Melina to the arena, so things should remain — well — under wraps."

Nero bowed respectfully. "Patriarch," she said with a nod that screamed both admiration and mild exasperation.

"Grandpa!" Amber cried out, practically leaping into his arms in a hug. "You always make an appearance right on time! Were you waiting for this on the ship?"

Gereon laughed hysterically, "I wasn't waiting for a fight between children, Amber. I had some work to be done." His tone was both teasing and earnest, as if to say, "Yes, I do work hard, but that's just what grandfathers do."

"Yeah, you always have work," Amber pursed her lips, shaking her head in amused disbelief.