“W-what the hell are you saying?” I sputtered.

  Kael’s hands clasped neatly behind his back as he stepped forward, posing no instinct to fight me. “After the Blood Moon when you absorbed all of those supernatural existences in your body… It captivated me to say the least. You were merely an Order 9 at the time, and that’s something a Demi-god of my level would have gawked at.

  “Your power isn’t normal, it can’t be contained by conventional means. I helped you because, well, your power was vast for your talent.”

  Kael paused for a beat, smirking as he looked to the crimson moon in the air. “My most relevant theory is that following the Blood Moon, the sheer apocalyptic energy of your pathway was enough to seal the world in some way… causing mass chaos and famine.”

  “That makes no sense! I’m just an Order 8, I’m nothing compared to a demi-god like you!”

  The crimson-haired man laughed out loud, now walking in circles around me. “But what Order 8 wages war against the Gods?”

  At that critical juncture, I remembered what I had told Isaiah Walls in the medical facility. I had stated I hold dominion over my powers and abilities, and that the Angels and Gods of the world will have to stop me from using them in a benevolent manner—constricting the loop of the natural order of things.

  “I-I said I’ll use these powers for good, and nobody can stop me from doing so!”

  “Yet you slaughtered two men because your father showed up again?” Kael cocked his head to the side in an almost playful manner.

  “You provoked me with him!”

  “I opened your eyes to that inevitable weakness within you. Even if you can seal him to the darkest corners of your mind, you will never accept his dormancy within you.”

  Kael’s feet crunched the show as he stepped forward, now standing before me. His crimson-colored eyes flickered dimly in the matching moonlight as he smirked, a singular fang of his protruding from his shiny, unchapped lips.

  “Now that we’ve had all the words said, you can run back to Clifton and spout it to their faces, then we’ll see how nauseating and galling you are to the rest of the people.”

  He leaned in even closer; Kael now stood eye-level with me. The longer I looked into his eyes, the more intense and fiery his gaze seemed to become. His voice dropped to an eerie, mocking whisper.

  “Kael and his charity organization want to use your bodies to conduct a powerful ritual. They don’t want to help you, they want to resurrect an ancient angel from the grave. Heh, the mere thought of those words leaving your spouting mouth is enough to make me cackle.”

  I shoved Kael away, my guard tensing as if the most perilous of threats stood before me. Though, this was a threat standing in front of me. This was a demi-god, someone who’s lived for a millennia, and the son of an ancient angel who could shatter the surface of the world of He wanted to.

  As if sensing the palpable hesitation within my callous movements, Kael chuckled breathlessly and raised his head. “You want to cry to them for help, but you know the entire village is within my palm, correct? You know the odds are all the more in my favor?”

  “They will know, they will know of your damn treachery, and I will ensure with all of my body that you’re either dead, or your emperor has you locked up somewhere.”

  “All of your body?” Kael’s eyes raked me up and down, silently scrutinizing me for my impotence. “That challenge laced within you tells me that—”

  Before Kael could finish his eccentric rant, I had already thrown the first punch directly to his face. Unexpectedly, the demi-god stumbled back. I watched, my body silently tensing like a bowstring as Kael’s brows furrowed a millimeter, a trickle of blood seeping from his parted lips. He spat it out, the dark-red color seeping into the snow.

  ?

  A sudden burst of flames surged from Kael’s palms as he smiled, the type of smile a man would flaunt before deciding when and where to slice his opponent—a clever incision into flesh and bone that would scar and cause a stinging, burning pain, but not enough to restrain movement. Kael wasn’t a dogmatic fighter; he was a Swiss Army Knife, composed with blood-red refinement, a matching exterior, and the power of someone far beyond conventional means.

  ?

  Fighting Kael was going to be terrifying, and I knew that with all of my being. But at this moment, the people of Clifton relied solely on me for their protection and sanctity.

  Stolen story; please report.

  …

  Creak.

  The door was slowly pushed open, allowing Aizawa and Olivia a full-scale view of the room. Though, it wasn’t even half-a-second before Aizawa’s attention bolted to the corner of the room, where he saw Shinso restrained to the wall.

  “What the hell did you do to him?” Aizawa spat, looking back at Monsour.

  “Corrective measures if we’re being refined. We had to ensure he wouldn’t act up, so we had him bolted to the wall in case he attempted anything foolish.”

  “How did you even get him?” Aizawa’s hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to grab the pink-haired vulpur by the throat, but that would most-likely prompt a dangerous reaction from the others around him.

  “We didn’t get him, he was led to my doorstep.” A gruff voice sounded from the corner.

  Aizawa turned his head, catching sight of the black-furred vulpur standing on the corner. He towered over Aizawa, his head almost reaching the ceiling. Olivia’s body habitually tensed as she stepped back, stifling a gasp.

  “His pathway possessed a unique inclination, a tendency and urge that lured him to my doorstep.”

  “H-he was the one who wiped your memory… The Justice pathway naturally lured me to him, hoping to lure him out and bring him to the proper—”

  Before Shinso could finish his sentence, Perola grabbed him by the nape of his neck, the texture and sharpness of her claws enough to pierce the first few infinitesimal layers of his flesh, drawing a few tears of crimson blood down his neck, soiling his shirt and vest.

  “Speak when spoken to, Hitoshi.”

  Without any hesitation, the illusory cloth formed around Aizawa’s neck, his grip already tightening around the meta-physical weapon.

  “Let go of him or I’ll make you.”

  In an instant, Aizawa felt the cold, metallic imprint of a dagger grace the back of his neck, barely permeating his flesh. This wasn’t a move to shed blood, but a cold, calculated warning. Felonious held the knife with a vigorous, stoical practicism.

  “I wouldn’t advise making orders in one's own house. Monsour here can have your reputation in the dumps with a simple conference.”

  Aizawa’s body remained taut, not from the weapon held against his neck, but from Shinso’s current situation. His only thought ran through his mind like a desperate, eagle-eyed mantra—get Shinso the hell out of here, and do it quickly.

  The man chuckled under his breath, an almost snarky smile forming on his face. “I couldn’t care less if you dump me into the slums of this pretty kingdom, but that child—my damn kid—will be handed back to me by the time I’m out of here.”

  Aizawa’s breath silently hitched as the dagger dug a little deeper into his pale flesh—a warning.

  “You’re heavily outnumbered in this situation. This is a small room, filled with beings with the agility of a street cat, and the proficiency of a seasoned assassin.”

  “Luckily for you, I know a lot about cats—I have quite a few where I live!”

  With a sudden move, Aizawa’s body spun around, ducking under at the same time to land a precise kick to Felonious’s lower regions. The white-furred vulpur sputtered, the breath seeped from his lungs as he fell back, clutching his nether regions.

  “Kill him,” Perola commanded.

  Losalzo didn’t waste any time, running over to Aizawa and bringing his fists down into the wooden floor where he just was. Before he could assess his opponents location, several blows had already been issued to his lower back, followed by a knee to the back of the skull.

  Perola leapt up into the air, clutching to the jewel-encrusted chandelier. With a mighty tug, she ripped it from its bolts and sent it down onto Aizawa. The impact sent Aizawa’s head into the wooden floor with a vengeance. The corners of his vision darkened briefly, and the noise around him faded to an obscene, deafening whine that tortured his eardrums.

  Perola’s fingernails shifted to razor-sharp claws, the tips glistening in the dim lighting of the now darkened room. Outside, the crimson moon was the only visible source of light. While Aizawa was incapacitated for the most part, Perola didn’t possess any issues seeing in the dark. She strutted to Shinso, abruptly yanking the back of his hair and hovering her claws inches from his throat.

  Shinso’s expression remained firm, as if set in stone, but he knew deep within his heart that any wrong move and his throat would be split open like lumber. Trickles of sweat beamed down his skin, lubricating his puffy skin where the incisions on the back of his neck had become prominent.

  It stung, forcing him to bite his lip—to sever any weakness that threatened to spill from his lips in any form.

  “If you hurt him… I’ll rip your arms off…” Aizawa’s voice came out raspy as he lifted the chandelier off of his body.

  It landed beside him with a heavy, metallic clang, causing countless jewels to scatter across the wooden floor.

  “Under normal circumstances I would have already slit his throat, but… I have a proposal for you.” Perola’s eyes flickered in the dim lights.

  “We’ve been dispatched by the Katshin Empire to deter this famine that’s suddenly swept over multiple regions. With you—a citizen—by our side, we can humanize the cause, and deter the animosity and hatred towards our kind.”

  Her fingers slowly drifted away from Shinso’s throat, retracting back to regular fingernails. “No one in this room will bring harm to those you love.”

  “Bullshit, you already took Shinso captive,” Aizawa barked.

  “No… I-I willingly joined them…” Shinso breathlessly huffed, looking at Aizawa.

  “They told me… I-Isaac’s alive, and that I’d get to see him if I cooperate with them.”

  “How do they know that?” Aizawa’s expression was filled with both skepticism and slight hope.

  “He’s residing in Clifton, a small village twenty miles from here. If you’re able to help us bring prosperity to this kingdom, we’ll have him running back to you.”

  “I’ll need proof of this.” Aizawa folded his arms.

  Losalzo stepped forward, a small torrent of purple energy expanding from his palm. Within the energy, a face took shape. The face was slightly sunken and gaunt, framed by ink-black hair that cascaded into a ponytail that hung low on his left shoulder.

  “He goes by ‘Silas’ now,” Losalzo explained.

  “Silas…” Olivia repeated the name under her breath, her eyes suddenly widening.