Azrael's body still throbbed with poison, each muscle sluggish and heavy, yet his skin betrayed none of it. His crimson oni mask gleamed faintly in the dim room. Black wool overalls clung to him, sleeves rolled, boots worn from the night's escapades. His hair, braided into two thick cornrows, framed his sharp features like backward horns. Liyana and Hans flanked him, eyes vigilant as the faint green glow of healing magic still lingered on his veins.
The manager appeared with his bodyguard, face grim. "He's poisoned. Not fatally, but it's paralyzing him from the inside." He signaled the bodyguard. "Check the crowd see if a healer is available."
Liyana's fists clenched. "No healer? In an arena like that?"
The manager shrugged. "Only winners make it out. Who'd have thought something like this could happen?"
A calm, deliberate voice came from behind. "Or maybe you just didn't want to spend any pounds."
The manager spun, frowning, before recognition softened his features. "Gel. So nice to see you. Come and look at our fighter, Crimson."
Gel removed his gloves and approached. His movements were smooth, controlled, radiating calm. Azrael's eyes flicked to him warily. Gel halted as he was about to touch him. "This is going to cost… a lot?"
The manager nodded, smiling weakly. Gel's hands glowed green, veins spreading across Azrael's skin as he applied the counter-magic. Azrael moaned, muscles twitching, the paralyzing venom slowly retreating.
Minutes later, Gel withdrew, gloves back in place, and turned to leave. "I'll send the cost to your office," he said casually.
The manager exhaled, tension eased slightly. "Go back home. Rest."
Liyana and Hans carried Azrael back to the academy, the journey slow and deliberate. Every step left his body still drowsy, the poison lingering faintly. By the time they arrived, the sun was climbing over the horizon, painting the city in soft gold.
---
In the lecture hall, Azrael settled himself between Liyana and Hans. Hundreds of students filled the room, murmuring among themselves. At the front, the instructor spoke, pointing at a large map as he did.
"Everyone knows the West is divided into the eight dukedoms, each ruled by a Duke. At the center lies the imperial capital, neutral ground under joint leadership. The dukedoms are large, yes, but the capital is even larger and far more prosperous. Beyond this are the outskirts, often called the ninth Dukedom. It's filled with bandits, and scattered villages and has no formal head."
The bell rang, and students filed out haphazardly. Only a few remained. Azrael stayed seated, Liyana at his side, her eyes soft but sharp.
"Az," she said quietly, "why attend class today? You need rest."
Hans nodded in agreement. "Exactly. Night's coming again, you'll have to fight. All our earnings the last two days have been taken to settle the medical bill."
Liyana's glare silenced him. "If you mention that arena again, I swear…"
Azrael only smiled faintly, remaining quiet.
He rose abruptly, and crossed the room to the far side, where Rhea, Rio, Theo, and others sat. Liyana and Hans followed, keeping pace silently. Azrael's presence drew attention: simple black pants, white shirt with folded sleeves, black boots polished to shine. His 2 cornrows framed his face, dark skin and slight red hue around his eyes lended him a quiet, compelling presence.
He stopped before Rhea, hands casually in pockets. Their conversation halted instantly.
"Rhea," he said, calm yet unwavering. "I'd like to speak with you."
Rio sprang up, voice sharp. "Shadeek, you're not welcome here. Leave her alone."
Azrael's expression remained unchanged, a product of countless battles controlling every emotion. He turned back to Rhea, silently, waiting. One of the unknown boys tried to intervene, placing a hand on Azrael's shoulder. Liyana stiffened, but a subtle motion from Azrael made her step back.
The boy's hand pressed lightly, Azrael grabbed it, pulled him close, held unto his neck and with precision slammed him into the desk. "Just because I allowed that clown to speak," he said, calm, "doesn't mean you can."
The classroom tensed. Rio and his friends bristled, ready to attack. Rhea's hand rose, stopping them. She stood, golden hair catching the sunlight, white dress immaculate.
"Fine," she said, her voice measured.
Azrael faced her, expressionless yet serious. "I like you."
Rhea's blue eyes narrowed, a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. "You can't just… like me. We barely even know each other."
Azrael tilted his head, expression calm but sharp. "Not quite. We spent three years together at Brimstone, and four months here at the academy. That's enough to know someone."
Her brow furrowed. "Yes, but we don't even talk. We didn't then and we still don't, it's not the same thing."
Azrael stared at her as one might stare at someone speaking nonsense, genuinely puzzled. Rhea's hands clenched at her sides, helpless against his unflinching gaze.
"You and my brother hate each other," she said, voice rising slightly. "I used a fork to threaten you the first time we met. You… you can't like me!"
Azrael shrugged casually, the gesture almost dismissive. Rhea's mouth fell open, speechless. How could someone be this shameless?
"Fine," she finally spat, exasperated. "I don't like you. Okay?"
Azrael's frown deepened, curiosity piqued. "Why?"
Rhea crossed her arms, eyes blazing. "Well, for starters… you and my brother are enemies. You take people's soul pills by force. And I don't like you."
Azrael paused, thoughtful. Then a faint, almost imperceptible smirk formed on his lips. "Meet me at the weapons hall by midnight today. You'll get to know me. Then you can decide whether or not you like me."
Without waiting for her response, he turned, moving with fluid confidence past Rio and his lackeys. He joined Liyana and Hans, who had been watching from the side, and together they left the classroom.
Rhea stood frozen for a moment, her gaze following him. Her heart raced not from fear or love, but from the impossible audacity of the boy she had so stubbornly dismissed.
Rhea stayed standing long after his figure vanished into the press of students. Before Joining up with her brother and his friends.
Rio stepped closer, voice low but sharp. "What the hell was that all about? What does he want from you?"
"Nothing," she said. "The same nonsense as always."
Rio's mouth set hard, his shoulders taut. "Nothing? I've seen the way that bastard looks at you. And he humiliated one of ours in front of everyone, and now he has the gall to come after you? If he dares again, I'll..." He cut himself short, jaw grinding.
The others murmured in agreement, the air tight with hostility. Rhea only pressed her lips together, gathering her notes with care. She gave no further answer, leaving Rio to stew in his fury as they walked out.
****
Outside, Azrael moved along the stone path with Liyana and Hans at his side. The evening sun slanted low, throwing their shadows across the ground.
Hans broke the quiet first. "So… what's the end game?"
Azrael glanced at him. "End game?"
Hans gave a crooked smile. "Don't act dense. I might not have known you long, but it's clear you don't move without reason. Everything you do feels planned. So what are you really after with Rhea? Don't tell me it's just feelings."
Liyana tilted her head, watching Azrael closely.
Azrael paused mid-step, eyes fixed somewhere past the horizon. His voice, when it came, was even too even.
"…Not all goals are clear at the start. Maybe it is just feelings. But I know this much, Rhea is a path. One way or another, I'll walk it."
Hans frowned, uncertain if the words were meant as strategy or something deeper. Liyana simply exhaled, shaking her head.
"Always speaking in riddles," Hans muttered.
Azrael said nothing more, hands slipping into his pockets as he continued walking.