It began with silence.
Nocth stood still, the white garden stones cracking slightly beneath his bare feet, his eyes half-lidded, as if the world barely stirred him. Across from him, Dravien Greel twitched — fingers curled into claws, lip jittering like he was chewing something sour and sharp. His iridescent scar-tissue veins pulsed, crawling up his neck like a parasitic bloom.
The courtyard was no longer empty.
Students gathered from nearby halls and garden paths, drawn by the rumor: "The freak challenged the quiet one."
Among them, Imius arrived last, holding a folded parasol he spun idly like a noblewoman at a tea duel.
He scanned the combatants and whispered to the girl beside him, loud enough for others to hear, "Ah, the noble showdown — between a lifeless statue and a walking skin rash. Who will win? The stone? Or the pus?"
Laughter echoed. Dravien's jaw twitched. He turned his eyes toward Imius, growling, "You got a mouth on you…"
Imius offered a theatrical bow. "Thank you! It works better than your face, apparently."
Another ripple of laughter. A background noble fainted into his servant's arms from laughter. Even the instructors raised brows — but did not intervene.
Nocth hadn't moved.
Then—
BOOM.
Dravien lunged like an animal—not elegant, but relentless. His arms lengthened unnaturally mid-leap, elbows snapping backward with cracking sounds, forming jagged armor from his skin. His fist came down like a wrecking hammer—
But it hit air.
Nocth had vanished.
One footstep — not even loud, just precise. He reappeared behind Dravien. Calm. Hands at his side. Watching.
Dravien turned. "FAST—!"
Crack.
Nocth's knee met his side — sharp and fast. It didn't shatter bone, but it bent Dravien's scar-tissue at a bad angle. He screamed as his body auto-healed in real time, hardening, reshaping.
Pain. Panic. Rage. Then… confusion.
Because Nocth was grinning — slightly.
Just a twitch of the lips. A quiver of the cheek. But unmistakable.
"Hey…" Dravien whispered. "Are you… smiling?"
Nocth stepped forward — not fast now, just with purpose. His shadow spilled forward, tall and still.
His heart thundered — not from fear. Not from hate. But from need.
He couldn't explain it.
There was no reason this malformed creature should make his blood sing. But something about Dravien's strange vitality, his unpredictable twitching power, the way his flesh refused to fall — it stirred Nocth.
A whisper inside him. One word:
"More."
"Don't grin at me like that!" Dravien roared, vomiting out a shard of hardened flesh from his throat. He slammed his palms together, and spikes erupted from his arms, forming a double-bladed gauntlet fused to his skin.
Nocth blinked once. The next instant—
Clang!
A swing. A dodge. Another strike. Dravien moved with increasing fury, like a beast cornered. But Nocth danced through the blows with minimal effort. Each parry was not done with strength but angle.
And yet—
Nocth's pupils trembled.
He felt it again. That burning pulse. That ache for impact. The desire to be broken and to break.
A strange smile crept wider on his face.
Imius, watching, tilted his head.
"Oh dear," he muttered. "Our little void boy has discovered joy. The worst kind."
A girl whispered beside him, "What do you mean?"
"Battle joy," Imius said, eyes narrowing. "A drug. That bloom in the blood when you find someone almost worthy."
Dravien slammed his fists down, missing Nocth by inches, cracking the floor. He stood heaving, teeth bared, but he froze when he saw Nocth's face.
Hungry. Focused. Eyes glowing faintly.
"You… you're not human," Dravien hissed. "You're a maniac… battle maniac."
Nocth didn't respond. He didn't need to. The soundless thrum in his body spoke louder. The thrum that said:
"This still isn't enough. Give me more. More of this."