Elem stared at the floor, resting on his hands and knees. He could hear Ferran’s footsteps approach him. A part of him considered crawling away but his rational side knew that his pained body wouldn’t budge anyways.

While trying to fight the Seraphim, he had overextended his Essence. He’d been emotional and reckless when he called his Kappa, something his father had always warned him for.

“I understand your hatred and I feel your pain,” Ferran said as knelt besides Elem. “I don’t expect you to feel any different towards me.”

His eyes had returned back to their natural blue, no longer blackened from linking with his Void Summon. Elem grunted. Whether the man’s eyes were blue or black, he was a demon nonetheless.

“Your father wronged me, but I don’t believe that made him an evil man,” Ferran continued. “I had to settle the score nonetheless. I couldn’t move on with my own destiny without restoring the balance he had upended. One day you will understand.”

Elem glared at the man with watery eyes. Ferran’s words were strangely sympathetic and Elem hated it. The man either pitied him or was trying to humiliate him even further. At the end of the day, Ferran was a killer and Elem didn’t need kind words from a ruthless killer.

“A classic tournament is the purest form of battle. In the face of death nothing else matters and only then one can truly give themselves to the match. You either soar or you crash. Because that is the true goal of every Summoner: to become one with your Summons. To let everything else fade and have your Summons become extensions of your own soul.”

Elem glanced at the spot he’d seen his father die. Nothing remained of Ardan. The Seraphim was truly a graceful Summon; even when it utterly annihilated a man, it did so without shedding a drop of blood.

“Your father was pure until the very end, and now he is fully one with his Summons,” Ferran said solemnly before patting Elem on the back. “He is where he belongs.”

Done with Elem, the victorious challenger stood up and faced the silent audience.

“Referee can you confirm that under official Association directives, the winner of a Classic Match instantly inherents the Summoning school of the defeated Master along with all its assets?“

“That is correct,” Tarjun nodded without looking up.

“Very well then I shall be the next Master of the Sekuheim School,” Ferran raised his arms as he made the announcement. “I understand that this might be difficult for some of you but our world is ever-changing. Today you have the chance to embrace this new era or leave this school without any retaliation. Those who decide stay; I promise that I will shape you into powerful Summoners.”

Elem heard some light commotion. Some of the disciples got up and left the great hall but not nearly enough of them. From the corner of his eye, he noticed how Aja emerged from the crowd and approached him. Seconds later, she and Tarjun hoisted him up, each carrying an arm on their shoulders.

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“Let’s get you out of there.” Elem heard his friend say as he looked back into the crowd. He gasped as his eyes fell on Bertrand who had remained seated among the other traitors.

Elem squeezed his fists. He and Bertrand hadn’t always seen eye to eye but Elem had always considered him a friend. How could Bertrand spit on his father’s legacy and betray him like this?

Wanting to break the traitor’s face, Elem tried to escape free Aja and Tarjun’s grasp but he was too weak to do even that. He struggled for a few seconds after which his head grew light and his vision blurry.

“You bastard!” he growled finally, before losing his consciousness.

______________________________

Elem fluttered his eyes as he woke with a headache. From the motor’s buzzing and the streetlights flashing through the window he could determine that he was sprawled on the back seat of a car. He was being brought somewhere, but where?

“He’s going to be fine. It's just Essence exhaustion. In a few hours, he should be good to walk again,” Tarjun spoke calmly, his eyes fixed on the road.

“But will he be healthy enough to fly?” Aja replied. “They won’t let him board if he looks anything close to what he does now.”

Fly?! Elem stiffened. What was going on? What were they talking about?

“I told you, he’ll recover rapidly. I am sure he’ll be conscious by the time we arrive at the airship.”

“Wh… What… is,” Elem stammered. He had to find out what was going on.

“Look who's back to the land of the living!” Aja poked her head from the passenger's seat. She looked incredibly relieved.

“Drink this,” she added, pushing a mysterious bottle against Elem’s mouth. The liquid sent a burning sensation down his throat and Elem struggled not to cough as he drank it.

“Give him some water too. That stuff is strong,” Tarjun said as he parked his vehicle on the side of the road. He got out and lit a cigarette. The road was empty and quiet, save for the sound of the evening wind blowing through the Lightningrod valley.

“Don’t worry Elem. We’ve come up with a plan- or rather Tarjun told me about your father’s plan,” Aja said quietly. “Can you try to sit up straight?”

Elem could. He pushed himself into a sitting position and kicked his legs through the open car door. It was a beautiful night. The skies were clear and the stars shone bright like a collection of celestial gems.

“So what’s happening?” he finally managed.

Tarjun took a moment to think, inhaling his cigarette. It was a strange sight, Elem had never seen the man smoke before.

“Your father was prepared for a situation like this,” the former instructor then said. “Ferran may have said there would be no retaliations against you here but we shouldn’t take any chances. Master Ardan saved money for you, in case you had to travel the world by yourself. He even instructed me to buy you an airship ticket as soon as something would happen to him; your flight to Alabaster City leaves tonight.”

Tarjun disappeared to the rear side of the car and pulled something from its trunk.

“Your bag is already packed,” he said, tossing a black backpack on Elem’s lap.

Elem gazed at Tarjun with a dumbfounded look. Traveling around the world? So he was fleeing? Elem scratched his chin. He’d always dreamed of embarking on an adventure but not under these circumstances.

“He means our bags,” Aja said, putting her hand on Elem’s shoulder. “There is no way you’re going without me.”