Before the king stood five figures.
They were not mere students.
They were not spectators.
They were presences that demanded respect.
Two female. Three male.
The one who had taken the floor before King Cain was a man with medium-length hair of an unnatural electric blue, as if he had been touched by a storm. His eyes, grayish in color, lacked any warmth; they watched with a dangerous calm. From his head rose gray, cracked horns, and down his neck stretched dull yellow scales, like tarnished gold. There, between skin and scale, a blue tattoo glimmered faintly: small branching lightning bolts, as though his throat concealed a restrained thunderbolt.
At his side stood two others.
One of them had short white hair and skin black as coal, absorbing light instead of reflecting it. His ears were long and sharp, and his eyes…
His eyes were completely white—no pupils, no irises—just like his eyelashes and eyebrows. He looked like a living statue carved from darkness.
The other…
The other did not have a human face.
His head was a pumpkin, hollowed out from within, burning with a greenish fire that illuminated his eyes and his carved mouth. The flames crackled softly, as if they breathed with him.
On the left stood a young woman with short black hair streaked with blue. Her skin was dark, and from her head sprouted bright blue antennae that moved slightly, sensitive to the surroundings. From her back extended two enormous butterfly wings—black, blue, and red—with patterns as beautiful as they were unsettling. A butterfly was tattooed on her chin, and her eyes, blue with red, always seemed to observe the world from a cruel angle.
The last girl remained almost motionless.
Long white hair fell like a veil, with bangs completely hiding her eyes. Her horns, brown in color, were slightly curled. Her ears were long and soft, and fluffy wool covered parts of her body, reminiscent of a sheep. Her presence contrasted sharply with the violence around her… and yet, something about her was unsettling.
They all shared one thing in common.
A red garment.
The golden logo of a sword embraced by the image of a dragon.
-It's been a long time since I last saw you, young Doran.
( Said the king with a wide, almost cheerful smile )
-Indeed… it has been some time, Your Majesty.
( Doran replied respectfully, bowing )
-So then… you'll be taking care of the young lady?
( Cain asked, tilting his head, genuinely confused )
Doran turned his face slightly. His eyes fell upon Kalista's unconscious body, sprawled on the ground like a broken object. For a second he hesitated… then he smiled, an uneasy, tense smile.
-Yes… after all, she belongs to my house.
( He said with a hint of embarrassment )
-Tch… damn trash. She causes all this mess and dares to lose to a rookie. She should be ashamed and just die.
( Spat the black-and-blue-haired girl, stomping on Kalista's head in rage )
-Come on, come on… don't be so harsh, Aine. She gave everything she had in that fight. She fought with dignity and honor. She can still improve.
( Doran said calmly )
-Come on, Doran, you know that's not true. Trash will always be trash. No matter how hard it tries, it will never change what it is.
( Aine said with absolute contempt )
-I agree with Aine. I told you we shouldn't have accepted this woman into our house. She still can't release her Nirvana and she's already in her third year. It's cruel… but she simply doesn't have enough talent to be in Veldragon.
This time, the one who spoke was the flaming pumpkin figure.
-What… you too, Ichabod?
( Doran said, clearly disappointed )
-See? I'm right. We have to remove her from our house. Today she dragged our name through the mud. Someone like her has no place in Veldragon.
( Aine insisted, furious )
-Don't you think you're being a little cruel to her?
( Doran asked, frowning )
-No. It's simply reality.
( Ichabod replied bluntly )
-Ahhh… we'll talk about this later. We can't argue in front of His Majesty.
( Cain intervened, scratching his head )
Doran turned back toward the king and bowed once more.
-I apologize that you had to witness this, Your Majesty. We will take our leave, with your permission.
( He said, ashamed )
-No, no, don't worry. I like the passion of the young.
( Cain replied, amused )
Doran turned and looked at the dark-skinned young man.
-Zafir… could you take her?
( He asked calmly )
Zafir nodded silently. He lifted Kalista effortlessly and slung her over his shoulder, as if she were a worthless sack.
-Do you think you could check on her later, Baphie?
The sheep-like girl replied in a low, gentle voice.
-Yes… leave it to me.
Doran bowed once more before the king.
-Before we go… may I ask the name of that pink-haired boy?
( He asked with interest )
-Oh my… you're interested in him too? Hahaha.
( Cain replied, excited )
-Yes… something like that.
( Doran said with a nervous laugh )
-You'll see, you'll see… his name is Morgan. I don't know which house he'll choose, but he'll definitely be a great addition.
( Cain said expectantly, almost thrilled )
-Morgan, huh? Well then… if you'll excuse me, I hope we meet again soon, Your Majesty.
( Doran said in a final bow )
The group left the coliseum, taking Kalista with them.
-Ahhh… I think things are going to get very interesting from now on.
( The king murmured, with a strange and terrifying satisfaction )
Cain remained alone in the middle of the coliseum. The euphoria roared around him, but he stayed silent. Beneath his mask, a smile widened.
-I can't wait.
Meanwhile…
Zarathoz burst into Morgan's room, nearly knocking the door down, and gently laid him on the bed. Her hands were soaked in blood.
Luzbel came running the moment Zarathoz stepped aside.
-How is he?
( She asked, her voice breaking )
Zarathoz didn't answer. She only moved aside.
Luzbel approached and her heart clenched. She touched Morgan… and her fingers were stained red.
-Quickly, Zarathoz… we have to take him somewhere. He's in really bad shape. We could lose him… we have to do something!
( She sobbed )
-Hey.
( Zarathoz said sharply )
-Don't just stand there! Help me carry him!
( Luzbel begged, desperate )
-Look.
( Zarathoz insisted )
-Damn it, Zarathoz! Didn't you hear me? Help me to—!
Zarathoz grabbed her roughly and slapped her.
-I told you to look. LOOK AT HIM.
Luzbel, in shock, lowered her gaze.
Morgan's wounds…
were slowly closing.
-Huh… how?
( She whispered, incredulous )
-Sometimes your sick dependence clouds your vision. As you can see, he doesn't need us to take him anywhere. Apparently… he can heal himself.
( Zarathoz said, exhausted )
-&But how?
( Luzbel asked, trembling )
-I don't know. I don't understand anything… but for now, it's better if we leave and let him rest.
( Zarathoz sighed, tired )
-But…
( Luzbel said, worried )
-Leave him. It's what he needs most right now. He'll be fine.
( She said firmly )
Luzbel pressed her lips together, hurt, but accepted it.
Both of them left.
Zarathoz cast one last look at Morgan before closing the door, relieved… yet confused.
The room fell silent.
Then, Morgan's arm slowly fell, almost touching the floor.
From the shadow cast by his hand emerged Xol, the hairless dog with bright blue eyes. He sat beside him and spoke in a deep voice.
-You're a damn idiot.
End of chapter.
Next chapter: You did this.